#Listen the childhood friends to lovers kills

[theresawtf]

❀᭢᜴꤬ jakey poo

summary: only after jake had left for a three year australian program for college, he had come back as the intimidating bad boy everyone wants, but when it came to relationships he can never settle for anyone but you. he didnt know it but he always treated you differently than the other random girls he would hook up with. but the only thing keeping you guys apart was the fact that you were jungwoo’s younger sister…

pairing: stoner jake x artmajor reader

warning(s)- SMUT (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), (sorta kinda proof read), childhood friends to lovers, brothers best friend troupe, jake is slut coded, reader doesn't give af, mentions of drugs, use of drugs (its stoner jake wtf were you expecting?), facesitting, reader&jake almost gets caught by jungwoo, p in v, unprotected sex (WEAR A FUCKING CONDOM PLEASE), JAKE IS A SLUUUUTT!! thats about it 🥸 angst if you squint with a happy ending

featuring- jungwoo as readers brother, sakura from le sserafim.

song suggestions: burnin’ for you by blue oyster cult, circles by ptv, please please please let me get what i want by deftones (the cover), dramamine by modest mouse

word count: 6k+

after a long three lonely years, your brother and his best friend are finally returning, you could remember all the precious memories that you and the boys always hanging out, but one thing you would never forget was jungwoo’s words before introducing you to jake.

“your not allowed to date any of my friends ever, so dont even think about it.” it’s seems like he knew exactly what would happen because as soon as you saw the tall nerdy boy next to your brother you practically had hearts in your eyes every time you saw him at your house, in the yard, at the table for breakfast. anywhere your brother was— so was jake.

as you and jake grew up he had always treated you differently than most people, he’d always pick tiny flowers for you and let you put them in his hair or he would stall jungwoo from leaving you at school if you had extra circular activities so he could walk you home. he always made sure you were okay if jungwoo was being mean and would always help you cheer up. he didnt realize it till he left that he always had some feelings towards you but he would never say them out loud. as for jake also heard familiar words from jungwoo..

“listen if you ever try dating my sister or anything of that sort, i’ll actually kill you bro” of course jake didn’t take those feeling to heart until he saw you on a facetime call with jungwoo while they were both in australia for an exchange program. he saw how mature and confident you got, not to mention the fact that you’d never judge him even if jungwoo was literally talking shit about him to you, you never said anything bad about him. he knew his behavior wasnt the best once he left high school and started college somewhere far away from his home town, of course people change but how did you not?? he was completely infatuated with the fact that you were just the same as he remembered, you had become one if his genuine best friends.

it was the night before he was supposed to see you since he’s come home, of course he wanted to visit his family and layla but there was a tugging at his heart where he knew he needed to see you, or even just to speak to you. who knows maybe you would actually hate him once you finally saw him after all these years but he couldn’t imagine you being any different then how you always have been. he gathered his gift for you from australia, he got a simple necklace with a j engraved on the back, he knew what it looked like but he also knew you. you knew that he wasnt allowed to date you and you werent allowed to date your brothers friends but things can always change and with that he went and grabbed paper to roll you a fresh joint, if he could some how convince jungwoo that youve changed all on your own he wouldnt mind the thought of jake being closer to you in anyway possible.

now in reality jake didnt take into consideration that maybe youve been trying to push your feelings of him away, he was your childhood crush there was always going to be some lingering feelings but you knew deep down if he wanted to try something with you he would. he simply could not have any feelings whatsoever but you knew if you didnt tell him now, you wouldnt be able to get these feelings out for good. and if you release them they wouldnt have to both you for your first year at college. what you didnt know was that jake had enrolled into the same college which was the same one you were going to. and for one of your final projects for your portfolio you had written letters to all of those whom you felt strong feelings towards and leave it at what you feel in that moment, not thinking of the future just that moment. the feelings for that person show show how you feel about them if you think about it in the present.

that being said you knew there was several people you could write to but you knew there was truly one person that you didnt quite know exactly how you feel about them and that was jake so for your gift you prepared your letter assignment, after prepping the final copy and wrapping up the other goodies you had gotten for jungwoo and jake and set them out for when they arrive.

❀᭢᜴꤬⠀

“hey kid” jungwoo said while going in for a hug, it had been too long since you’d seen him. it seems like they were still the same annoying smelly boys you remembered from middle school, for them being gone for three years we always manage to get along with each other. while your parents caught up with jungwoo, you manage to catch jake looking you up and down. he was seeing how much you’ve grown since he left, he always knew you had a crush on him but part of him knew he wouldn’t know how to define these feelings he had for you.

“nice seeing you y/n, you get shorter or something?” he said messing up your hair just the tiniest bit. he knew it made you mad but of course it was jake, how could you get mad at him. you finally got him back, but to focus on your assignments you wanted to detach any lingering feelings you could have from the past.

they had talked to your parents for a bit before going up to bed to catch up on sleep, you couldnt hide the fact that you were a bit bummed out but you knew that jet lag can be gnarly, you left it to them. if anything it gave you more time to finish your portfolio assignments.

❀᭢᜴꤬⠀

you had been preparing for bed since you’d been putting the work in for your preparation for classes, even though you had the whole summer to prepare you wanted to make sure it was perfect and still have time for your friends. breaking you from your thoughts you heard a knock, it shocked you because jungwoo never bothered with knocking. you went to open the door but you turned and saw the outline of jake in your window, it was a little to convenient for him to get to your room so easily. it also didnt help that jungwoos room was down the hall and the roof connected so it was always a secret place for the both of you. it doesn’t phase you anymore but also why did everything pick up the same after he came back, the privilege of being able to connect with him the same way as children you can as adults as well. it makes things so much harder to push everything out, especially your feelings for him.

“aren’t you cold out here? what are you doing out here??” you began questioning him before he could say anything. he once again checked you out without jungwoo’s protective eyes watching.

“just come join me, i have a present for you. grab a blanket for me if your so worried about me.” he had said while smirking motioning for you to come sit outside for a bit; try to catch up as much as you guys could before jungwoo assumedly wakes up.

“fine bossy.” you quickly grabbed a blanket and your presents to the boys but only leaving jungwoos close to your window so you wouldnt forget about it. you sat next to him giving a bit of space but once you stilled he had scoot closer to you and covered the both of you. but to you it was just for the warmth, but to him he just wanted to be as close as he could to you; he missed you more than you could imagine.

there was nothing that could prepare you for what was coming next but now that you were here with him you feel like you get the closure you had been searching for with him.

“here i got you this, open it” jake handed you a drawstring bag and what seemed to be a JOINT. being new to the fact that they are stoner and have developed a reputation for smoking back in aussie now its just so natural for them to pull this type of behavior and it be normal for them, its still unfamiliar to you for them to be doing such things. but despite being surprised with the joint you began to pull the bag apart while watching the strings sink back into the baggie, the bag had been way heavier than you had anticipated, it was a necklace that had a beautiful design and on the back there was a j engraved on the back.

“jake i can't accept this, how much was it i can pay you back after i get paid.” you tried to reason with him but he shook his head and laughed thinking the reaction was just so you and absolutely adored the way you looked.

“very funny, but i'm pretty sure that's not how gifts work, unless you use that on all of your brothers friends. no wonder you have so much nice shit.” he teased you causing you to lightly hit his arm. you had admired the necklace for a second before responding. he knew you didn’t know many of jungwoos friends the way you know him and of course he liked it that way, in all honesty he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“jake seriously, thank you so much i really do love it. its beautiful.” you smiled at him and he reached towards the necklace to put on you. “here let me help darling.” he said quickly as if he was hiding what he was saying from himself and you. you almost didnt catch it, it was so fast. jake’s hands graze your neck and move your hair for you you barley even had to turn that how close you guys were together. he finished and let his hand linger on your neck before glancing from your eyes to your lips back to your eyes.

you weren’t oblivious to what jake was wanting but you didn’t know to what extent, you’ve always had a crush on him but if you did anything with him there was always the strong possibility that jake wouldn’t reciprocate any of the feelings. and thats something you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to risk that and yet here you were mere centimeters away from your brothers best friend, something in jake had him shake back into reality and tuck your hair behind your ear. you couldn’t say you were disappointed because that would mean you wanted something more even thought jungwoo would never allow it.

“so pretty girl did you want to try smoking if not its okay, its up to you pretty.” he pulled out a lighter and held it the same hand with the joint. waiting for your response, he never pushed you to do something you didn’t want, jungwoo would constantly tease you for being scared of things but once jake heard about it he would explain everything logically so you wouldn’t have to worry. there were so many things that you could say made you fall for him but there was never a way to exactly pinpoint that moment but that was in the past, your not that little girl anymore. you nodded “sure it couldn’t hurt.” you said with a smile as you snuggled into the blanket due to the wind picking up.

jake began to light the joint with ease even with the wind, the lighter illuminated his features while he scoot impossibly closer to you and put his arm around you to keep you warm. he went and took a couple of hits before handing it to you, you inspect the joint before hesitating to take a hit. “just suck it lightly or else you’ll start coughing.” he explained while you nodded and begin to take a hit, and immediately after you had a coughing fit which made jake giggle but he rubbed your back as you recovered, god how was he so hot just taking care of you while you both smoke.

you couldnt even begin to guess whats going on with jake but you knew he was fighting with himself on the inside, but to jakes understanding it was you. nothing else really matter to him, school was always easy for him, girls were always easy to get and he was set for life in terms of funds for his smoking (issue) but none of that filled that part of him that he desperately was trying to find once he left for college. now that he’s back home there is nothing but overfill, you mights not have known it but he could never point it out to jungwoo, but you know what jungwoo isnt here. you were both legal adults with lives of your own, jungwoo will have to deal with the decision jake is about to make. with the drugs in both your systems it had you both talking about anything and everything.

“doll listen-“ “jake you can not keep up these nicknames someone can hear you, you know that the walls are thinner than paper unfortunately..” you began to ramble as he takes your cheek into his palm, his thumb caressing your cheek slowly, he gains your attention and continues.

“you know i used to really like you growing up right?” he keeps his hand on you slowly beginning to moving them in between your neck and jawline, just from that you get tingles all over and you take a hit successfully without coughing. you shook your head turning towards him to get some more clarification passing the joint to him but he declines.

“i've liked you since the first day i met you. then jungwoo told me if i ever dated you, he would actually chop my nuts off…” he trails off while you giggle at him, there was something so he was searching for in his head, to which he grabbed the joint from you and put it out on the roof.

“i also never had the courage to actually tell you before but-“ you cut him off before he could say anything else by crashing your lips on his, he felt like he was starved practically devouring your lips with his own. the taste of you was enough to send him to cloud 9 for a permanent vacation. it took everything in him to not to press forward right here on the roof top letting the whole neighborhood who you truly belonged to let alone the your family finding out that there was anything going on between you guys in the first place.

jake pulled away from the kiss but before he fully pulled away he places a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips and one more gently on your lips, it was sweet not harsh and fast as the other but more passion in the one kiss small kiss than he has during this confession.

“jake if you read the letter you’ll understand how i feel about you- how ive always felt about you” you say pulling yourself away from his grasp putting some distance between each other, not wanting to confuse each other any further.

“i think you should read it before we continue any of this” you gesture your hands towards the both of you. once again jake had that pretty boy smile nodding his head letting you think you have any control of this because he wants you that badly. and in all honesty jake would wait forever for you to let him have his way with you. but only if you wanted it back in return, and little did you know he already knew.

“go inside pretty girl, its getting cold and i have someones letter to reread.” he assisted you to your window and said his goodnights to you as you closed the window and made sure it was locked. you had no idea about this effect you had on him, and he was going to let anyone or anything get in the way of you guys.

you began to head to bed trying to process all of the things that happened in the short span of the day. you were glad that your brother was home but what you didn’t expect was his best friend to confess he’s been in love with you since even before you’ve had a crush on him.

oh god you were never finishing this project if this was the outcome for confessing your more heartfelt feelings you couldn’t imagine how the rest of the school year would go and its only the middle of summer break…

❀᭢᜴꤬⠀

if anything this summer has been a breeze up until its jake being less and less secretive about this little thing you guys have going on. you’ll be out hanging out with jungwoo as normal jake will tag along too, but this time he’s leaving lingering touches on your waist and slipping out sweet nicknames in front of jungwoo, practically telling him that something was up between you two. but also its been more than easy to hide it from him as well, ever since jungwoo reconnected with sakura he’s been head over heels with this women, finding more and more ways to sneak into her sorority house without the other members getting mad (how can they be mad if they dont know?)

while only means that the house is more than likely empty and with jungwoo gone your parents felt more comfortable if jake would stay in the guest bedroom at the house while you were home alone, which actually turned into you waking with jakes head in between your legs.

he wouldn’t let any of this disturb you from your work though, he was always willing to leave you be while you have to work hard to finish all your projects. but from time to time he would start reciting certain sentences from your letter to get you all stirred up. he loved knowing everything about you and he wanted to learn everything else, anything he possibly could learn about you.

he found himself yearning to be around you while you were finishing your final project, wanting to keep you near him as much as possible. he’s never found himself attached to anyone like this before, there has never been a girl he’s hooked up with that has had him in such much pure infatuation before he really doesn’t know what he wants other than to make sure youre happy and taken care of. of course he was smart he had all a’s and he rarely needed help for assignments but he couldn’t quite figure out what spell it is that you had put on him in order to be this in love with him.

the sun just began to peak out from the windows and your parents always were out the door super late at night till the early morning so they can be there for you during the day. which mean jake was heading into your room to join you for the morning, meaning he was ready to start your morning right.

“babyyy its cold cmere” you began to whine as jakes warm hand began to wrap around you till you were warm enough for him to start scooting down towards your hips leaving firm wet kisses all the way down just before the hem of your underwear, fiddling with it waiting for you to urge him to continue further. not wanting to waste anymore time you lifted your hips to where his palms is placed over your entrance earning a respective moan from your mouth. he quickly leaned up and kissed your lips as he pushes your underwear down to your ankles before heading down to pleasure you in any way he can, these early mornings were practice for him, learning everything that you liked, it was always for your own pleasure never his own. why would he care when he can fuck you as much as he wanted all night long, just as long as jungwoo never finds out.

jake begins to rub your thighs as he hooks his hands around your thighs to keep them spread as wide as he can get you, he places open mouth kisses all along your where your thighs and hole meet. he changes from kitten licks to longs strides against your clit just barely working you up, he added a couple of fingers in to the mix to keep you going, but he couldn’t get enough of your taste at this point he felt like there was so much he wanted and all of it was you, he wanted to be entirely suffocated into you. his hands begin to grip your hips trying to keep them down as he pushes his face further into your hole to where his soft nose was bumping against your clit, but to your surprise it wasn’t doing it for you, something needed to be different no matter how much you grind into his face, it wasn’t enough.

“mhmf ja-ake please i-“ jake begins to lift his head his lips leave a pop from your wetness, he tries to read your body and what it wants. “want more baby, m’ want to top please.” was all you could manage to get out, how could you when his hands kept on your clit as he spit into your hole wanting more access to finger you even more before flipping you so you could finish your high.

“okay baby just a little bit more for me okay- mmf you taste to fucking good.” he says lifting his head up and down not getting enough from eating you out, he cant wait to see whats its like to eat you out entirely. he pulls away from you entirely and begins to strip you entirely and you do the same for him, not wanting the moment to stop, he starts to lay down and pull you down towards him and you kinda just hover over his lips, you can feel his breath as he blows against your wetness causing you to stifle a moan before he speaks.

“baby you gotta sit down baby, i cant taste you at all.” he tries to lick any part of your hole but nothing gets touched. “mmh but-“ he already knew you were always so shy about things like this being so intimidating, he was always there to give a little a little push. he wouldn’t mind suffocating by your pussy, he wrapped his hands around your thighs and pulled you all the way down so there was no room for breathing, all he wanted was you and now he was naked on the bed eating you out as the sun came up, what more can this man want. the answer wasn’t so simple but as long as you were with him, he wouldn’t care what would happen to him.

just as you were about to finish you heard a door slam and from the sounds of it, it was jungwoo and sakura. but you didn’t want to risk anything happening, jungwoo would kill us if he found us wether sakura was there or not. but for fucks sakes the one time jungwoo magically decides to come home is when you were pussy deep on jakes face and you weren’t stoping any time soon, you grab on to jakes hair and continue to roll your hips as jakes tongue continues to prod at your clenching hole.

“hmf fuck jake please more please m’ almost there.” the thought of you getting caught was no where in sight, you couldn’t care any longer if anyone could hear anything pertaining you or jake. at this point there is nothing else you cared about all you could think about the way his mouth was moving on you right now. you were in heaven every ache in your body was washing way, the grip jake had on your hips was like he wanted to be permanently attached to your other set of lips. your hips begin to stutter and your orgasm spasms all over jakes face as he tries to lick up all he can before it spreads down to your sheets. you finally manage to tear away from jakes lips to finally let him breathe before doing anything further.

“mh baby are you okay?” you wiped up jakes face as he continued to catch his breath. his chest rises and lowers as you sat down on his waist not noticing the rock hard cock that kept tapping your ass. “did you hear the door too?” was all he managed to let out before sitting up slightly, putting his weight on this elbows behind him and admiring you sitting pretty on him.

“yea, it sounded like jungwoo and possibly sakura..” you began to pause not knowing how to word what you wanted to say but the words came out anyways “..but i couldn’t care who hears us at this point, im done hiding this.” you start lifting your hips to line up with his twitching cock, jake released a sigh as you continue to slide down his thickness, letting your plum ass sink all the way down taking him in perfectly. you guys could hear foot steps around the house as you kept going raising your hips and dropping them hard trying to get some noises out of jake, he would never let you get caught but he was really losing this little game you decided to play. but jake was not one for games, except when it came to you. while you go to raise your hips once more he lift his hips into yours as soon as you sank down and you couldn’t help but to let out a vocal moan “mmf-fuck jake”

as soon as the words left your mouth, you stilled your hips and your eyes widened, and there he was with that stupid smile as he flipped the two of you as he continued to ram his hips into you as he kissed your lips making sure to shut you up, he didn’t care if jungwoo walked into the room at least then the relationship wasn’t a secret— then he could truly fuck you whenever he wanted.

“baby you better watch your words or else we will have an audience soon.” he leaned in licking your ear going down kiss you once more on the lips. his thrust became sloppier as time went on and your walls began to flutter, you both with more than ready to release when you heard a knock on your door that didn’t stop jake from keeping his pace while he signaled you to answer the door.

“f-fucking go away” was all you could think of as you continue to chase your high.

“jeez” you could hear sakura on the other side of the door, followed by the closing of the door across the hall— that being jungwoo’s room meant he was more than likely going to put two and two together. there was more of a possibility of you both getting caught if sakura tells him.

with jake never stopping you both began to unravel and jake collapses on you and begins to kiss your face and all over your neck down your shoulders to your tummy and hips, wanting you to relax as best as you can not letting you over work yourself.

“dont worry about them alright. they’ll never figure it out.” jake began to say as you shake your head.

“are you crazy, who else would hear skin slapping and moaning YOUR name and not assume we were having sex, let alone whatever this is between us” you gesture to the two of you, not wanting jungwoo to break up whatever you had with jake, because as much as you wanted to have faith in your relationship with jake, you knew he was always going to think its a game.

“oh doll its fine, you act like he hasn’t done stupid shit at your age too, i mean us being together shouldn’t bother him anymore.” you couldn’t just let jake keep getting away with this anymore than you guys already have, if he wasn’t going to finally make things official then why bother in the first place. you were breaking this off before it could crush your heart anymore than it already did.

“well if you think us is also stupid then we should stop this now, im not doing this any more— i just cant jake.” you began to sit up and put clothes on leaving jake on the bed naked looking a little confused. but before he said anything he gathered his thoughts not wanting you to over think this any longer.

he sat up, tugging you towards him before speaking, his full attention on you as you sat with him. “baby i didn’t mean it like that, i want you more than anything i’ve wanted in a while..” he paused before continuing.

“.. and from now on im not letting anything or anyone get in the way of having you by my side, not even jungwoo.” that last part came out more like a promise.

he reached for your hands pulling them close to his hands placing kisses along your knuckles. “will you be my girlfriend? i can’t imagine my life without you baby, please don’t think i don’t want to be with you. i would do anything for us to stay together, even if jungwoo wants to beat my ass.”

you chuckled at him and nodded, feeling like this has been something some magical wish that has been finally granted, you reached out and wrapped your arms around jakes neck and kisses him as he began to lay back down with your lips on his. he can finally die a happy man with his dream girl.

“alright baby, lets clean you up and go see what those two want, yeah?” jake insisted as he began kissing you and walking into the bathroom, the only possible think you had over your brother was your own bathroom (that and his best friend is wrapped around your finger)

❀᭢᜴꤬⠀

after your close encounter with sakura and jungwoo you insisted jake leave only for him to chase you out of your room to go hang out with jungwoo, the whole way down there was a pit building in your stomach, what if jungwoo knew what sakura had potentially heard, that meant anything you could have had with jake would be gone, but nonetheless you had to face him some how after this.

with jake leading the way, you hung back slowly trailing behind, but before you could process anything you could smell a familiar scent— you found jake taking a lit blunt from jungwoo, as jungwoo was exhaling he locked eyes with you can nearly choked on the smoke.

“i swear if you tell mom-“ jake was quick to cut jungwoo off at your defence.

“you act like we weren’t doing the same shit at her age, she’s fine” he said passing the blunt to offer to you, but you shake your head about to speak.

“mom can barely recognize the fact that you bring sakura over practically every night, why would i start snitching now?” you explained while sakura shrugged in agreement offering you the blunt before passing it in the circle again— to which you accepted taking in the smoke a tiny bit before almost coughing. which had jungwoo wide eye looking at you and sakura, shaking his head before you could pass the blunt to jake as he left lingering touches on your hand as you pulled away, as jungwoo and sakura began making small talk with you and jake, but in all honesty it seemed like nothing was wrong which made you feel ten times better.

“so are you two together?” sakuras words could silence a room faster than your thoughts could keep up with. immediately you shake your head and jake looked at you for a split second and nods. jungwoo immediately turns to jake then to you and starts putting two and two together before handing the blunt to you, expecting a response to what jake means.”

“ive had a crush on y/n since middle school to be honest…” jake turn towards you before continuing. “...but she wont admit it till she knows it okay with her brother.” thats it, you AND jake were done for— there was no way that jungwoo; the brother who as always protected you for any reason you needed, he was always going to be there for you, but would he really be okay with the fact that you have been messing around with his best friend.

“jungwoo has more shit to deal with rather than who his sister and friends are dating..” sakura turned to jungwoo reading his already upset facial expression, “its that right baby?” she questioned him, making sure you get an immediate answer. she already liked the two of you together, if she could get you two together than you guys wouldn’t have to hide it anymore to which jake was eternally grateful for.

“not that i want to control your life but.. at least i know you are safe with this little shit.” jungwoo left it at that as he put the blunt out, as he wrapped his hands around sakura’s waist and began to walk inside shutting the sliding glass door afterwards.

you turn to jake smacking his arm before he could say anything, “what the hell was that?? how did you get him to just let us be??” you began to question him, thoughts running a million miles an hour but jake takes your cheek into his hand caressing it ever so gently, as if he could loose you at any moment. but now he really had nothing to worry about.

“i didn’t know anything, but i know i was more nervous than you were; i thought jungwoo was gonna kill me just with his glare.” he explained pulling you in closer. “but i needed to tell him, i didnt want anything keeping me from my girl.”

for the first time it feels like you could finally be free with your feelings, not wondering what jungwoo was thinking. you began to wrapping your arms around your boyfriends neck pulling him impossibly closer.

“oh jakey poo your so dumb” pulling him into a hug as he rubbed the small of your back with one hand then going to mess up your hair with the other.

“oh now it’s jakey poo.” he points out as you roll your eyes and pull him into a kiss before guiding you inside.

masterlist

tag list- @jakeshotpocket @soobinsnumber1

#theresawtf thoughts #enhypen fic #theresawtf drabbles #sim jaeyun #jake sim #jake enhypen #jake fic #jake smut #enhypen smut

[fic-heaven]

Enemies to lovers with König and witty reader? I don't know if you also write about him so imma leave this here

Answering two anons at the same time lmao

Say my name

(König x witty! Reader)

🐥 The first time König appeared on my drafts was when I was making my last Reyes x Reader fic and um... I kind of wanted to keep doing lmao so here it is. Sorry for my broken English-

Angst/ SOCIAL ANXIETY/ slight nsfw/ open ending (if you guys want a part two and this short gets some attention)

⚠️ I still picture König as Lee Pace ⚠️

.

They say you transfered from SpecGru to KorTac because you simply wanted a change of airs. But it couldn't be that simple. Why were you so simple?

As antisocial as he seemed to be, König was well aware that a bond between teammates was needed in order to sync and function properly during missions. He wasn't the best at striking up conversations and never intended to improve on this aspect either, often trying to figure people out from the distance, he only approached them if he had questions about their character. Horangi once said it was weird but König frankly didn't care about what was socially accepted or not, he just made the effort to know his team because it was expected of him, and as great as it would be to have friends, he struggled socializing and had given up trying ages ago. König was paid to kill, not to make friends. And as far as his interactions went with his teammates, the only one who gets his game and could be considered his friend is Horangi. But you?

He had tried to investigate you, even going as far as using his position as colonel to gather as much information from your background to understand you without having to make any awkward approach. But nothing he found explained why you changed factions or why you behaved the way you did. You had a normal childhood, went to a good school, graduated being top of your class... Jesus you had a rabbit called Mr. Whiskers, even the deepest info given was borely normal. No trace of trauma or any mental disorder.

König begun studying you like a biologist would to a newfound species and got more and more invested and frustrated the more information he gathered, because he simply couldn't excuse your... Well, your everything.

He approaches you one time during morning drills, looks you up and down as you stretched, ignores the flirty comment you shot his way, because what the fuck is your problem? You don't know him. Then König proceeded to mouth the first thing he ever said to you, one of the main questions he had on his head as to why you would behave so strangely. And it goes like this: "Do you have any mental illness, hm?"

"I might have, yeah."

And you said it so casually. Do you, though? Are you being sarcastic or... God he hates you. Why can't he figure you out!? Why do you smile at him so much? Why do you flirt so much with him? Do you flirt with the others the way you do with him?

That new question made him observe your body language around others and listen carefully to any interaction you had and found nothing but your enchanting witty self. Of course you teased other members, but never so bluntly like the way you flirt with him. The colonel felt weirdly relieved at this. Maybe he liked the attention given? Scratch that, or course not!

One time after a tiring mission in Barcelona, Spain, König approached you with a bottle of water, you thanked him with a wink and he watched you swallow the whole thing before he proceeded to ask you the second question that plagued his mind: "Do you perhaps hide some secret trauma that permanently changed your behaviour, using sarcasm, smirks and jokes to protect your scared inner child in order to not get hurt again?"

"Hmmm... The day I found out my mother was Santa Claus I went bananas, but I wouldn't say it scarred me for life. Do ya want an M&M, colonel?"

He fucking hates you. He hates you. König aggressively snatched a handful of M&M's and stormed away. That night he swore he could hear your laugh echoing inside his head. Why couldn't you leave his fucking mind? What was it with you? Were you doing it on purpose?

_____

You were definitely doing it on purpose.

You have to be patient with König. But he was so hilarious and scary, it thrilled you to watch the two meter tall behemoth of a man walk near you and sneak watchful, calculated glances your way when he thought you weren't looking. If someone dared to ask, you'd easily answer with the honesty everyone knew you posses: You'd fuck König without a thought.

He's so feral in battle, so demanding and intimidating on the comms. His ridiculous voice made him all the more adorable contrasting with his appearance. Oh fuck that. Even his appearance was ridiculous, he looked like the red guy from that creepy show called "Don't hug me, I'm scared" or one of those executioners from the Shrek movie. But he was HOT, with that slutty waist accentuated by his bulky back, those long slender arms that could lift anything on his way, you saw him lift a fucking car a few inches so an injured woman could scape, and as she cried of relief you could feel your pussy crying as well at the sight. And oh his hands... The way he used them, so elegantly but rough, they'd make a beautiful necklace. His voice, as unfitting as it sounded coming from this KorTac monster, made you itch to hear more, his accent was so attractive that it quickly made you addicted to sound of it and your brain pondered on how he'd sound while doing other things. Lucky you, when the stars aligned and you two coincided in the gym you made sure to be close enough to hear the quiet grunts and sighs from the colonel as he trained, to your surprise he never moved away as if he knew what you were doing and thought nothing much of it. Safe to say, you'd gladly eat whatever interaction König graced you with with a speck of salt.

Though, when you begun paying attention to the details (because it was hard to guess his thoughts without seeing his face) You noticed a few things about the colonel that indicated he had a severe case of social anxiety. The way he self isolated, how he forced himself to interact with people resulting in very awkward conversations that led to him coming up as rude to what he got frustrated and scaped the scene, how he loved his job because you were convinced that he thought he was only good at killing. That made you wonder if he had other hobbies... It's funny to imagine a tall, muscly guy like him baking or making origamis.

______

Today you saw the ultimate signal that your big crush wasn't a people's person.

You two were on a meeting with some other KorTac members. König was peeling an apple and had finished it rather quickly as all of you spoke, but he spent ten minutes with the remnants of the fruit slowly browning and drying on his hand, so you decided to test your theory by walking to the near trash can to throw a random paper you crumbled quickly, after a few seconds König abruptly stood up to throw the dried fruit remnant, the tall Austrian glanced your way before he sat again and kept to himself. Okay, so judging by this and how stiff he looks, König doesn't know exactly what to do with his body around people, he needed an excuse to stand up and throw the finished apple so he waited for anyone to use the trash can to go after, BUT he waited a few seconds to stand so he wouldn't look like he was waiting. Must be stressful to be on his shoes. Interesting, but maybe you were overthinking too much, so you decided to do a final test that would definitely tell you if what you thought was right. You didn't want to come to this unless it was really necessary... You'll probably have to apologize later.

You directed all the attention to König by asking a number of things, (obviously work related) that caught the attention of everyone in the room taking the poor colonel by surprise, his cristal blue eyes widened for a minute before he composed himself answering everything you asked with a professional tone until you spotted the tremble on his hands, poor König noticed your attention drift to his hands so he slid them under the table. That's how you knew it. He couldn't handle being the center of attention for prolonged amounts of time. Your poor baby...

You gave him a sympathetic look that again took him by surprise, but by that time König had called the meeting over, gathered his things and walked out before you could approach him.

Damn you and your stupid beautiful voice and worried eyes trying to comfort him discreetly.

Gloved hands fidgeted with the bracelet on his wrist. König remembers the little girl who gifted him said thing. The day him and his team rescued her and some other orphans from a building about to explode, the worried colonel spent a few minutes comforting the little girl until she pulled the orange bracelet from her small SpongeBob backpack, he chuckled at the gesture and had never taken it off since. They even shared some letters from time to time, he held a piece of little Astrid in the form of a cute bracelet and she held a piece of him in the form of sweet spoken letters.

König saw her kind eyes in yours and it squeezed his heart so much he felt suffocated. Why would a teasing little vixen like you have such kind, gorgeous eyes? It was weirdly comforting that someone would look at him so softly like he wasn't a monster for once after so long.

His heart begun beating faster, his head was so full of questions about you it infuriated him. Long legs carried the colonel to the gym absentmindedly, like his body craved to ease some tension, but at the last minute he turned to the left corridor further from the gym, went to the right and finally approached the shooting range's door.

"Scheibe..." König cursed lowly, he could have very well bursted the door out of it's hinges, his gloved hand (still a bit shaky) took his favorite riffle from the top right corner of the shelf while he shot a backward kick to push the metallic door closed. He spent fourteen minutes shooting targets while mauling at your last interaction, rage swirled his insides and yet he couldn't fully hate you for asking questions, after all it was work-related, and the last soft gaze you gave him spoke volumes that you didn't want to advert all the attention to him out of malice. König was reloading his sniper rifle when he heard a gentle thud indicating someone had entered the room.

"You'd make an amazing sniper." You spoke softly trying not to startle him.

"You come to mock me? Laugh all you like. I'm well aware I'm too huge to be a sniper." He spoke in resentment over his shoulder before redirecting his focused gaze to the target ahead.

"I always say size doesn't matter! As long as you know how to handle your weapon, you'll make any girl blush."

Your dark humour takes König by surprise and he misses the dummy's head, he tries to hold back the chuckle that threatened to spill from his hidden lips. Luckily the shirt he wore as a mask shielded his face enough to make it look like he was holding in a cough or a sneeze but you weren't stupid. When he turns to face you placing the riffle to the near table he gets startled by how close you are, the smirk accompanying your lips as you weaseled close to his very sacred personal space made him curse lowly in his mother's tongue. The tall Austrian stepped back and you rose your hands in mocking defeat.

"Alright, I get it, personal space. Jus' wanted to hear ya laugh..."

"I didn't." He hisses.

"Didn't ya? I thought I heard it, must have been the wind."

Your sarcasm often infuriated König who never seemed to get a good grip on his English, so it was hard for him to detect when you were being serious or just pulling his leg. His hands flex on his sides, tiny waist move side to side as he balances his weight before he crosses his arms and leans his back to the wall. König raises a brow when your smirk morphed into a sincere apologetic smile as you admired his stance six feet apart from him.

"I'm sorry for what happened back there." You said honestly, he sucked in a breath. "Didn't want t' put ya on the spot."

The Colonel's cerulean eyes widen in surprise before directing his gaze to your tank top blinking rapidly. It was easier to listen if he wasn't looking directly at your eyes. "König..." Your voice was honey making shivers run up his spine and his skin erupt in goosebumps, his hands trembled even when he fisted them on his crossed stance. "Why don't we start again? Call me paranoid, but I feel like there's tension between us and not the type I'd like."

König wasn't shy, he wasn't, but that last line of yours made him feel like it, and it wasn't an ugly feeling? But it was a little uncomfortable, foreign, it squeezed his heart in a suffocating way, his hands were clammy, he felt weirdly light like if it wasn't for his tapping foot on the floor he'd float away. König understood what you were saying and it comforted him that you were on the same page, the weird unsteadiness between the two of you becoming rather unbearable and a constant topic on both your minds, it was relieving that you thought the same way. Suddenly the ugly anger he had for you quieted down.

The colonel lifted his hand your way offering you a handshake you took with mirth.

"I'm colonel König. Y-you are...?"

"Goddamn. Ain't your parents bit' egotistical? Namin' their baby boy 'king' in their native language." You say with a snicker shaking his hand. He takes it back abruptly but you don't flinch. "I'm Sargeant (c/n). My name is (y/n) (l/n). Is König the name written on your birth certificate or were you called somethin' else?" You press.

König is taken aback by this. When was the last time someone had asked the colonel his name?

"I am..." It tasted foreign on his tongue, like he had forgotten the sound of it, the taste of his own name on his tongue. "My name is Andreas Dobler. That's... That's my name." His name wasn't König, he remembers the man he left behind all those years back, the man under the dark cloak. Before things went to shit, before becoming colonel König.

"Andreas. What a curious name, never heard of it-"

"Say my name again." König interrupts. His voice weak but demanding and desperate. He loved it. He loved the sound of his name on your lips. It was strange, sweet... Arousing, even.

You blinked angling your head up to take a better look at his half-lid eyes. This time König didn't look away, your eyes met and suddenly the ugly tension from before was morphing into another type of tension, your heart beats faster in sync with his. You didn't know you were getting closer until König placed a hand on your waist and then the other, not pushing, not pulling, he simply laid them there and it came so naturally, your playful smile wavered slightly as your hands landed on his shoulders, he shivers. You tilted your head to the side and he was so lost in you, your aroma, your eyes, your lips, your touch, he didn't realize he was returning the head tilt.

Your lips parted, pink tongue darting to hydrate your dry lips until your pearls were visible from the gap, and his eyes catch every movement your mouth makes when you whisper "Andreas."

"Again."

"Andreas-"

"Again..."

"...Andreas..." Your hands slowly move to his chest, his breath hitches. His name has never sounded so sensual whispered by anyone's mouth. You were... You...

"You..." He isn't sure what to say. You are not sure either, suddenly your wit has abandoned you it seems. "You intrigue me." He decides to huff out, accent heavily pronounced.

There's a thousand thoughts swirling on König's mind, he has shared his name but it suddenly didn't feel enough, he wanted to show you who he was, his past, his thoughts, his hopes and dreams, even his face. How can a simple woman like you make König feel so much? Because you were no simple woman. That's why when he felt your small hands slide up his chest to the hem of the shirt that composed his mask, König didn't tense up, in fact, his shoulders relaxed embracing the touch of your fingers gently feeling his neck under the cloth, his stubble, his chin, his high cheeks... Gloved hands grab your wrists.

You stop, still looking up at him noticing the heaving of his chest and how lost in awe his gaze seemed.

"Not yet?"

"I-i... Do not..." Mind. He didn't want to refuse your touch but at the same time it was so overwhelming.

You give a small nod, König lets go of your wrists and you take this opportunity to nuzzle his cheeks, he gasps landing his hands on your waist once more, squeezing the flesh over your tank top. The feeling of your fingers on his face was so foreign it felt like you were touching a piece of his soul.

"Don't you worry, darling..." König lets out a small whimper at this. "I'm rushing things ain' I? We were just getting on the first name basis and I had to screw it all..." You wanted to sound apologetic, you promise, but it was so hard when your colonel was practically purring at the feeling of your soft hands scratching his stubble.

König was putty on your hands, he has never felt this way. His cheeks burn in embarrassment, he tries to move back but remembers he's already against the wall, and you, a small thing like you have him cornered like a honey badger hunting a lion. His lip wobbles and he tilts his head to the side as he feels your hands massage and explore his neck and jaw in long, gentle motions.

"Shy lil' thing... Aren't you pretty hiding under there? Maybe you are too beautiful to allow anyone the pleasure of a simple look. Like a sweet Ferrero Roche firmly wrapped and ready to be eaten." You whisper, voice raspy before you chuckle when his Adam's apple bobs with a swallow. Your body is now pressed compleatly against his, your dear colonel's hands tremble on your sides as he fists your tank top. He's nervous, he's shy, but you know he is enjoying this judging by the way his teary, half-lid eyes blink slowly every time you feel a new inch of skin.

"...Sag bitte mehr, ich flehe dich an..." (Say more please, I beg you.) König moans out, his german accent so strong masking how weak he was feeling at the moment.

He loved your voice, your touch... Your everything. The colonel ran his fingers on your lower back encouraging to continue, meanwhile he very slowly tilted his head higher allowing you more space on his neck to massage and scratch. You chuckle darkly feeling his member poking at your belly, your body instantly pressing harder against his cornered torso.

"You like the sound of my voice, colonel?" You humm, he makes a small noise. "Andreas...?"

His shoulders shake with the force of his shiver, nails digging deliciously on your lower back, you chuckle delighted at the sight tilting his chin to the other side to feel his nape, his ear and some locks of hair. "ich begehre dich..." The Austrian groans, his member now fully erect twitched delighted by the delicious pressure of your torso against it and your soft ministrations to his neck.

Both your radios churr alive until a voice breaks the static, a random operator checking on the comms. König almost knocks you over with how fast he straightened his back and the way his strong grip held you back, his chest heaving fast, eyes wide and vulnerable. You take the opportunity to grab him by the hem of the shirt he uses as a mask.

"Wait-..."

König freezes when he feels cold air hit the heated skin from his neck. You had lifted a portion of the cloth revealing the part you were previously massaging, caressing and scratching. His head moves up to the side trying to hide from your touch, his hands shoot backwards planting on the wall as if a force had taken them from the previous grip he had on you.

"I hope you can forgive me colonel... Can't help it..."

There's a long gash on his neck, a very old scar that seemed to be product of a knife fight or even a bullet, it's crocked and it goes up probably to his right ear. You lean close on tiptoes because he couldn't crouch due to how shocked he still felt, and you planted your wet lips on the surface of the sensitive scar. König's throat rumbles with a groan, his powerful hands finally make the move to take you, to cage your body impossible closer to his. A hard roll of his hips make him gasp in relief and you loudly huff when he handles you to where he was previously caged, his hands soon making small effort to lift you up, both legs wrapped around his waist and he THRUSTS. You are still kissing, licking and nibbling his neck, your hands exploring the long bulky surface of his back, König moans delighted at one particular bite until-

"Shit."

König turned his head back so fast you are sure his neck is rotatory, two pairs of eyes look in shock at Horangi who is standing there holding the rifle König had previously left before all of this happened. Your colonel was frozen in embarrassment his shaking hands still held you up and his boner was no longer stabbing you, the thing died at the speed of light.

"Jesus Christ. You gonna keep staring or you wanna join us, tiger?"

König snaps his head back at you comically fast, icy eyes glare in surprise, horror and astonishment.

"As fun as that sounds I'll leave you two to your games... 'sides, I don't think you'll be able to handle König alone, imagine the two of us. We'd ruin you." The Korean's response made you laugh enchanted with his wit, he walked out the door in quick strides leaving you two alone once more.

König huffs glaring at the wall behind you. The sudden unwelcome presence of his friend seemed to had robbed the magic from the moment. Your Colonel's body shagged slowly lowering your body, and the moment your heels touched the ground his head leaned down falling to the crock of your neck, the feeling of the warm cloth of his mask made you humm. He kissed your clavicle over his mask and you ran your hands to his shoulders until König slowly retrieved.

He took two steps back, with a very noticeable defeated look.

"Hey. We can keep going whenever yer up to. Don't look at me like that, sweet thing." Your voice carried a playfulness that comforted him from the sudden feeling of defeat.

König couldn't meet your eyes, his voice was shaky "I'm just not like this-..."

"Andreas-"

"DON'T -...!" He barked, startling you both.

It was too much, too sudden, too weird, too suffocating. He liked it at first but... König couldn't put into words what he was feeling right now. He hated that the moment was cut short, he hated that he felt like it was his fault and he hated the way you are looking at him with so much concern like when you two were at the meeting.

"Verzeihen Sie mir." He muttered giving you a final short glance before he rushed out of the place leaving the door open and your startled self still leaning on the wall.

You recognized those words even if you didn't know much of German.

"Forgive me." You translated in a whisper.

Will you?

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #witty reader #konig x reader #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader angst

[tmylmip]

I haven't given a shit about SNK for over 10 years now but nothing will change my mind that Eren and Armin are the doomed from the start endgame 😤

#Eremin #Snk #Eren Yeager #Armin Arlert #Listen the childhood friends to lovers kills #But even moreso when you've seen from the beginning they're doomed from the start 🤧

[jjunieworld]

from the start ⊹៹🎐༉‧₊˚

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, bestfriends to lovers, first love!soobin, mutual (unknown) pining, a drop of angst (i can’t help myself)

synopsis: you never really understood the saying “you’ll always remember your first love,” but that was before you fell in love with your bestfriend soobin. now all of it makes sense. you notice everything about him, from his dimpled smile to the way he could go on and on about the things he loves. and that just makes you fall for him more. cupid has shot an arrow through your heart and you can’t take keeping your feelings for him inside anymore.

word count: 3.1k┊v-day event masterlist┊masterlist

a/n: based off from the start by laufey and part two of my v-day event! you already know i had to write for the first love!soobin agenda, it’s just too good! hoped you got the movie reference i threw in there ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა enjoy! ♡

if you were being honest, you weren’t listening to a single thing that soobin was saying to you. you had your head in your hand that was resting on the table, a lazy smile grazed your lips. the drinks and food the both of you got at your local café had been long abandoned. staring at him intently, his words went through one ear and out the other.

instead, you were more focused on the way he was speaking. arms flailing around as he explained to you whatever it was that he was talking about, his face shifting from expression to expression. the way he would look at you occasionally with slightly wide eyes that shined brightly, the corners of his lips always tilted upwards. god, you were so in love with him. just watching him talk made you fall deeper and deeper.

“y/n… are you listening?”

your ears perked up at the sound of your name. there was a slight awkwardness hanging in the air as soobin awaited your answer. soobin looked at you with those slightly wide eyes, still shining. there was a sheepish smile on his face, making you look at his dimpled cheeks. “of course i’m listening!” you replied. “keep talking!” soobin laughed shyly before continuing.

this time you focused on what he was saying. “—and, i don’t know, i just feel like she would really like it! do you think a locket is too much? would you like a locket in this situation?” you held down the urge to roll your eyes at the mention of your best friend’s crush. it killed you inside knowing that he didn’t feel the same way about you.

“a locket is cute! i’d like it if someone got me a locket! would wear it everyday even,” you pushed out, a practiced fake smile appearing on your face. soobin’s smile widened and you felt your heart leap at the sight. “really?” he asked. “it’s not too much?” you shook your head, your smile becoming ever so slightly less fake. the way he was staring at you like you held all the answers in the universe, you couldn’t take it anymore. why did he have to look at you like that?

you thought of confessing your feelings for him right then and there, even if you knew it would end in disaster. you could practically feel cupid’s arrow in your heart. if only soobin did too. the scenario rang in your head, the crushing, unrequited heartbreak, the end of the two of you being best friends. you could never do it, not that you would anyway. ever since you admitted that you were in love with soobin, you were a giggling mess around him, cheeks always heated. quietness hanging between the two of you that you so desperately wish he’d fill. tell you how much he liked you too.

when you first heard the saying “you always remember your first love,” you didn’t really understand it. but then again, you were never in love before. not until now. not until the feelings for your childhood best friend hit you full force. not until soobin. though you knew you would never be together, that didn’t stop you from melting everytime he smiled at you. laughed at one of your lame jokes. sat close to you, head on top of yours as you watched a movie together. a burning pain shot through your heart.

“should i get it in gold or silver?” soobin asked, oblivious to your inner turmoil. you shrugged a little, “depends on her, really. just pay attention to the kind of jewelry she wears.” he nodded, deep in thought, as his eyes trailed along the rings on your fingers. “everyone’s different,” you added. “perfect! thank you, y/n! i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you laid your hands onto the table, trying not to let the hurt show through your smile.

everytime you asked who this mystery girl was, soobin would always divert the question to something else. it was bad enough that he was clearly in love with someone else, but it was even worse that he wouldn’t even tell you who this someone else was. you were his best friend, for crying out loud!

soobin would go on and on about this girl, tell you how perfect she was, how she was his dream girl. “she’s everything i’ve ever wanted,” he had told you once. you thought he was thinking a little too far ahead. it’s only been about two months since he’s been telling you about her, at least openly, asking for your input on various gifts or conversation topics.

you were brought back to reality with soobin sighing dreamily. his head was in his hands, tilted to the side, and his body was leaned onto the table. “y/n, she’s so perfect. you don’t understand—“

blah blah blah, you thought. you lifted your eyebrows, nodding along at his words. you couldn’t take hearing any more of it. the idea of confessing your feelings became more and more tempting. even if it did ruin your friendship forever, at least you wouldn’t have to hear him daydream about some other girl.

“binnie, i’m sorry to cut you off, but i gotta go…” you trailed off, lying through your teeth. soobin’s smile faltered slightly as he glanced at his phone. “o-oh, okay!” you both stood to your feet. soobin handed you your bag of food and your drink, which you took from him with a smile. he pulled you into a tight hug, his hands resting at the small of your back, as he said, “don’t forget about our movie tonight.”

soobin pulled away, but still held you in his arms. “wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, causing him to smile. the two of you were so close, faces inches away from each other, that your heart started to beat rapidly. he let go of you and you felt empty without his warm embrace. soobin’s eyebrows raised suddenly, his face falling into a serious expression. “and you’re sure the locket isn’t too much?”

you just smiled, “if it were me, i would love it.” you exchanged your goodbyes and you speed walked to your car. you didn’t even know why he bothered with these gifts. the last two gifts he gave this mystery girl, she didn’t even end up liking.

“she didn’t really like them,” soobin had told you, the two of you were walking down the streetlight illuminated sidewalk. the cold winter air pierced through your thin jacket. he handed the gift to you, it was still in its elaborately decorated box. you opened it, a shocked smile on your face at its contents. it was a pair of knitted mittens that he clearly had gotten handmade. you remembered him telling you about it a few weeks ago. “but when i asked you, you said you’d really like them. so why let them go to waste!” soobin added.

that’s usually how his gift giving to this mystery girl went. it made you really dislike whoever she was. all these well thought out gifts from soobin and she couldn’t even have the common courtesy to accept them? it made your blood boil.

you looked to your hands that were resting on your steering wheel. those same knitted handmade mittens soobin had gifted you a month ago covered them. sighing at them, you pulled them off and threw them onto your passenger seat as you drove home.

laying on your bed, you looked through your window at the setting sun. the hues of dark blue and burnt wisps of orange perfectly visualizing how you felt. the moon shined brightly against the darkening backdrop, illuminating you.

“what should i do?” you asked the moon. the moon didn’t give a response. instead, she shined brighter as the world got darker. you sighed and sat up, it was almost time to meet soobin as his place for your movie night. “should i just tell him tonight, after the movie? face the terrifying unrequited instead of letting my love for him drive me insane?”

again, there was no response from the moon. you stood and walked to the window, staring up at the moon from the open blinds. “either way, damage will be done. you’re right, moon.”

tonight, you were gonna confess your feelings. you were gonna spend the whole movie taking in as much of your best friend before you ultimately lose him. you began getting ready, laughing wryly. “i sound like a lunatic,” you muttered to yourself.

just as you had finished getting ready, making sure to keep your outfit casual, you had gotten a text from soobin asking when you were coming. you shot him a quick text back, telling him you were on your way, as you raced to put your jacket on. you made sure to wear the gifts he had given you that this mystery girl didn’t want; the handmade mittens, a charm bracelet, and a pair of cute but simple earrings.

soobin had flung his door open, a wide smile lighting up his features. he ushered you in, to where he already had everything set up. a big bowl of popcorn sat on the living room table. the movie that the two of you were gonna watch, flipped, was ready to play on the tv.

“wow, you already have everything ready!” you commented as you took a seat on the couch. soobin sat down directly next to you, so close that your arms were pressed together. he gave you a shy smile, a chuckle on his lips, “i take our movie nights seriously!”

at some point in the movie, you had cuddled up into his side, your head resting on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around you as you stared at the screen. it was hard to focus on the movie with soobin playing with the charm bracelet he had gifted you absentmindedly. you shifted slightly, trying to focus your thoughts on the movie.

it was proving more and more increasingly difficult as the movie drew nearer and nearer to the end. the only relief you got was when soobin had paused the movie to make more popcorn.

the two of you had gotten slightly distracted. you were trying to see who could catch the piece of popcorn in their mouth first and you were both failing horrible. the sound of your giggles filled the room as the piece of popcorn somehow bounced off your nose and landed in your mouth. you raised your arms in the air as you cheered, laughing happily. “i can’t believe i got that!”

“you must’ve cheated somehow!” soobin pouted lightly. the two of you were facing each other, popcorn bowl between you. you took a couple pieces of popcorn from the bowl and ate them smugly, “no… i’m just that good!” soobin laughed and it was so infectious that it made you join in as well.

“how could she sit there and laugh and look so beautiful?”

you doubled over onto his chest, briefly forgetting about the movie and almost spilling the bowl of popcorn between the two of you. you and soobin’s laughs filled the room, seemingly laughing at nothing at this point. laughing because the other was laughing. you wished it could be like this forever.

soobin glowed in the silver light of the tv screen, and you had to refrain yourself from staring openly at him. you snuck looks at him when he was distracted, looking down to get more popcorn or throwing his head back slightly to laugh. it wasn’t enough.

once the movie ended and you had helped soobin clean up is when you really felt like your heart was gonna escape your chest from how hard it was pounding against the cage of your ribs. this was it. this was your time to confess.

you took in your best friend's appearance for what would probably be the last time, taking in every last detail. the way he stood so tall that he towered over you. the way he walked around the room making sure not to knock things over. the way his dimples appeared when he talked or smiled and how said smile was always directed at you. you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself for what you were about to say next.

“hey, binnie?” you called out to him. he turned from where he stood next to the tv, messing with the buttons on the side of it. he had turned the lights on so you both were no longer in the dark. a small smile spread across his mouth, “yeah?” you took another deep breath, you had to get this off your chest. it was now or never. now or watch him obsess over someone else for the rest of your life.

“i love you,” you said. soobin turned to you fully from where you sat curled into the side of the couch, remote control hanging from his fingertips limply. his features softened and he looked at you fondly, “i love you too, y/nie.” you smiled slightly but shook your head. “no, i mean—i love you, love you,” you tried to clarify, looking away as your cheeks heated.

out the corner of your eye you saw him move towards you and felt the couch cushion dip next to you. his hand entered your vision as it cupped your cheek, guiding your face to look at his. soobin had a big smile on his face. your brows furrowed, “why are you smiling? i’m being serious, soobin!”

soobin just laughed a little, causing your confusion to deepen. did he really think you were joking? your eyes widened when instead of the rejection you were expecting, soobin instead softly joined his lips together with yours. “you idiot,” he finally replied against your lips, deepening the kiss as he pulled you closer to him.

after he pulled away, you were left breathless and even more confused. soobin looked at you with so much love in his eyes it had taken you aback. it was as if the veil between the two of you had been lifted. “i love you, love you, too,” soobin smiled.

“b-but, what—the mystery girl you’ve been talking about, what about her? didn’t you say she was your dream girl? your soulmate?” you stammered.

soobin chuckled as he got up from the couch. he walked back over to the tv and reached behind it, grabbing a small, nicely decorated box. soobin walked back over to the couch and sat down next to you again. he held the box out to you, “you beat me to the confession.”

you were in such shock all you could do was take the box numbly. when you opened it, you let out a gasp. there laid the locket soobin had been going on and on about earlier today, it’s intricately designed heart tugging on your emotions. you looked up to him, a bright smile on your face.

“there was no other girl,” soobin spoke, “only you. i guess i kinda messed up with my whole approach. i didn’t mean for it to seem like there was someone else, i was only trying to gauge your reactions to see if you liked me back…” you lightly shoved him, mouth still open in shock. “so you’re saying your dream girl, your soulmate, was me?” you asked. you desperately needed the clarification, to hear it come out of his own mouth in his own words.

soobin laughed, his features brightening with his smile, “yes, it was you! i have loved you from the start!”

you gently sat the locket box on the table and practically threw yourself onto his lap, attacking his lips with kisses. soobin laughed throughout the whole thing, holding your waist. “you idiot,” you started as you pulled back. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“why didn’t you?” he countered, then grimaced slightly as he remembered his mistake. “nevermind,” soobin added, making you laugh. “i didn’t want things to change between us for the worse. i didn’t want to lose my best friend.”

you kissed him again, “you could never lose me.” you grabbed the locket box and took the necklace out of it. soobin gently took from your hands and motioned for you to turn around, which you did. he clasped the locket onto your neck and you looked down at it as you turned back to him. it matched your charm bracelet and earrings perfectly.

“open it,” soobin said lightly. inside, on each side, was a picture of you and a picture of him. “when you close it, we kiss!” he exclaimed, demonstrating for you. you giggled and pressed your lips to his. “thank you, binnie, i love it. i love you.”

you and soobin had been dating for almost a year when he presented you with one of his many gifts over the span of your relationship. the two of you were at the park where you had met as kids, taking in the lush scenery and cool air.

“you have to stop giving me so many gifts,” you muttered as he showed you the box. your words got caught in your throat when you opened it to find a ring inside. the ring matched all of the other jewelry he had gotten you. you looked at soobin with eyes so wide they were gonna pop out of your head. “this isn’t the real thing,” soobin stated. “that moment will be a lot more special. but take this as my promise to love you forever.”

soobin slipped the ring onto your left hand ring finger and pressed a kiss against it. tears brimmed in your eyes as you pulled him into a tight hug. when you pulled away, the tears had fallen and were trailing down your cheeks. soobin cupped your face and wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs, then kissed you passionately.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. “i love you so much, soobin,” you said against his lips with a warm smile. you rested your forehead against his. “i love you more,” soobin replied.

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[norrizzandpia]

Hurt Me Once (OP81)

Summary: In which they just miss the childhood best friends to lovers trope.

Warnings: ANGSTTTT im so sorry ong this one’s REALLY rough so have fun!!!!

Note: i have a feeling i already know the answer but lmk if you want a part 2 lol

UPDATE: i made part 2

I’m sure it was nothing, but you never used to bring somebody else along. Used to be our thing, going to a movie then we’d wander home.

“We still on for tonight?” Y/n asked Oscar, the boy sitting on the couch as he furiously tapped away at his phone.

He threw a quick glance her way, nodding in a disregarded manner, “Yeah,”

Her response was hesitant. She knew he wasn’t listening to her, he hadn’t been for a considerable amount of time.

“Oscar,��� She smiled, her voice slightly pleading.

With another useless glance, he asked, “Yes?”

“Are you hearing me?” She tried, fake smile struggling to stay put.

He nodded, annoyed, “Yes, I did. We’re still on for tonight at 8 PM. We’ll meet at the movie theater down at the corner. Do you need me to be any more specific?” He snapped, phone being tossed aggressively down onto the coffee table in front of him as his fiery eyes finally met hers.

She physically took a step back, surprised by his shift in demeanor, “No, it’s fine. I’ll see you.”

He didn’t respond as she turned on her heels and made a quick move for the door, mumbling some excuse about needing to go the grocery store.

They both knew she had gone the day before.

—

She could see her breath leaving her mouth as she walked toward the neon signs. London winters were always her favorite. With beautiful, straight-white snow, she felt a certain type of comfort when she could gaze out any window from anywhere in the city and be met with a picturesque view.

However, for once this season, her view was quite the opposite. As her feet brought her closer to the entrance of the theater, her eyes were able to make out Oscar, the man she was supposed to be meeting and the man she loved, standing next to a random woman she had never seen before.

Her stomach dropped when she heard the way he said her name and the way he laughed at her jokes, something he hadn’t done with Y/n in a long time.

It was as if she was invisible by the way she stood awkwardly beside them, “Hey,” She had to say in order to gain either one of their attention.

The woman was pulled from her ogling state, but Oscar stayed, longingly staring at someone Y/n had never met.

Her brown eyes bore into Y/n’s as she gave a tight-lipped smile, “Are you Y/n?”

Nodding slowly, Y/n’s eyes darted to Oscar’s, wishing for him to acknowledge her, “Yeah. I’m sorry if this is rude, but who are you?”

“This is Lily, Y/n.” Oscar mumbled, finally gracing his best friend with some sort of recognition.

Her mouth fell open in faux realization, “Oh, nice to meet you.”

The girl, Lily as she now knew, nodded before Oscar was ushering the two women in and pulling out their tickets.

“Were you going to tell me someone else was joining us?” Y/n asked a little later when Lily had gone to secure their seats in the old theater and the two best friends had agreed to gather snacks.

As he pulled out his wallet in preparation, almost as if he couldn’t wait to not be alone with her, Oscar shook his head in disbelief, “Didn’t know I needed to. Was this just supposed to be us?”

“It always has been.” She shot back, a little too pointededly to go unnoticed by Oscar.

His eyes whipped around to meet hers, “So? We never made a pact or anything that it always had to be. I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal, but apparently it is.” His annoyance only grew seemingly, making Y/n feel like she was never really wanted in the first place.

Nodding slowly, she pushed the disappointment down, “No, it’s okay. It’s fine. I get it.”

The words practically died in her throat as she didn’t want to know the answer, but she forced them out anyway, “Do you like her?”

“Why do you think I brought her?”

And just like that, Y/n’s spirit was killed.

—

All these little landmines, all these little things that one can read two ways. Like when you take every call outside, seems that I’ve forgotten how to read your face, but I know you too well to get it wrong. If you have to hurt me, hurt me once. If you have to end it, get it done. You have all these choices, I have none. You’re all that I have to lose. Couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to. I’ve decided on you.

“I thought that maybe we could do something soon. Just you and me, you know? I feel like we haven’t gotten to hangout just us lately.” She tried, finally getting up the nerve to bring it all to his attention.

“What do you mean?” He asked, mouth full with the leftovers from last night. A celebratory dinner she had made for him in order to commemorate his sprint race win, but had been squashed as she set the dish out when he called and told her he was going out with Lily instead.

She shrugged, “I just mean that I feel like we haven’t hung out without Lily lately and, as much as I love her,” She forced out, “I- I mean, Osc, I miss yo-”

“Hold on one second. I have to take this.” He rushed out, bringing a hand up as to stop Y/n in the middle of her heartfelt sentence.

“Lily!” He exclaimed as he left the room and went out onto the patio, a certain kind of excitement she hadn’t heard in a long time.

She watched, observed if you will, as his smile widened and his gestures got incredibly theatric. While, a year ago, Y/n would’ve been certain that those traits meant he was overjoyed by the moment taking place, but, now, it was almost as if she didn’t know him. Sure, she could be pretty confident that he was happy with talking to Lily, but there was a specific, deep feeling of uncertainty. A large hole in the middle of her stomach as she looked at the man she had grown to love years ago and felt conflicted. There was adoration and longing, but there was also an overwhelming sense of disappointment and loneliness. Disappointment because she didn’t know who this was, the Oscar who was her best friend and the Oscar she was so scarily in love with just wasn’t fully there anymore. Loneliness because, throughout it all, he had been there for her, but, as she sat on a stool with the empty one staring back at her, Y/n’s mind came to the understanding that this was how it would end.

All those times she would worry about Oscar and her growing apart were in vain as she realized that the way they would lose each other was because he lost interest in her.

The worst part, the most painful piece of the puzzle, was that there was nothing she could do. The day when he woke up and realized he had so many better people in his company than some random girl from his math class in boarding school was approaching.

The bowl of pasta sitting beside her, a symbol of the unrequited love, she hoped the day would come soon.

As hurtful as it was, she couldn’t sit by and watch as her best friend gradually found a replacement, a person who could better give him all the things she couldn’t.

—

If you keep it going then one by one the memories will start to blur. You’ll ruin the good ones, but I guess my photo album’s none of your concern. Don’t humor me with kindness. There’s nothing kind about a hundred small betrayals. If you love me at all, you’ll kill it now.

Y/n and Oscar had always been in love with each other. Everybody knew it. It was that cliche kind of story. Their moms were best friends, so, in turn, they were. Countless amounts of scrapbooks and photo albums of the two together with their mothers’ handwriting at the bottom saying how they’ll show this photo at their wedding. It was destined from the start, or so everyone thought.

“Your what?” His mother asked the night he had introduced Lily as his girlfriend.

Oscar smiled, slightly confused by the taken aback faces of his parents and siblings, “My girlfriend, mom.”

“Oh,” She resigned, her form falling back in her chair.

His father, Chris, slowly nodded, “Nice to meet you, Lily.”

The two shook hands, an awkward moment as his mother stayed frozen in her chair with the only girl on her mind being the one she had adored from the start, Y/n.

Silence mulled over for a moment before Nicole was getting out of seat and pulling herself together, hugging Lily and giving her son the traditional knowing look, although, this time, it was completely fake.

She didn’t understand what the boy was doing. She didn’t know anything at this point. She was confused and already heartbroken for the y/e/c eyed girl whom she knew was struggling.

“Wasn’t Y/n supposed to come tonight?” It hit her that her son’s best friend was planned to be with them, a seat for her at the table with serving sizes accommodated to fit the number of people coming for their dinner, her included.

Oscar’s face broke out into panic, “Oh my god, Y/n!”

Nicole’s eyes darkened as she watched it dawn on the couple they had forgotten to pick up the poor girl.

“Oscar,” She said sternly, giving him a knowing look and, this time, making sure everybody knew it was real.

Her arms went to her hips as she looked at her son in disappointment, “Do not tell me that you forgot to pick her up.”

His eyes searched for forgiveness, “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Really. I-”

She put her hand up, silencing his rambles as she grabbed her keys and made her way to the door, “I’ve got it.”

—

Pulling up to her house, the woman clocked the way all the lights were out. No porch light or window light on as the house seemed to be eerily empty. Her feet took her up the stairs by 2’s as she hurried to assess the state of the girl, already knowing it couldn’t be good.

Knocking on the door, she heard nothing, so she knocked again. She continued this cycle until the foyer light finally came on and the door was opening, “Oscar, it’s okay. I underst- Mrs. Piastri?”

The woman, finally being faced with the fact that she didn’t quite know what to say, looked at Y/n as if the whole world had shattered around them.

“I’m sorry about him.” She started, thinking they could ease into the topic, but that proved to be the wrong decision as Y/n’s tears started.

Trying desperately to hold them back, keep them at bay somehow, she responded, “It’s okay.”

It was small and quiet, completely defeated, something Nicole felt unraged by knowing this was all at the hands of her own child.

The girl’s head hung low, the tissue in her hand coming up to her face to dab at the tears beginning to fall.

“Oh, honey,” Nicole whispered, rushing to the girl’s aid as she wrapped her up in a hug that brought Y/n back to her childhood when she would get hurt playing with Oscar and Nicole would be there to patch her up everytime.

While this is a bigger wound, Y/n knew Nicole would still stay. She always had and she always would. That was how they worked. Y/n would call her “Mrs. Piastri” like she had just met her and Nicole would be in her back corner, ready to pick her back up again when she failed to do it herself.

Closing the door behind them, Nicole winced at the sight of Y/n’s purse and jean jacket sitting on the bench beside the door, like she had been waiting for Oscar when he was never even going to come.

“I’m happy for him.” Y/n said, tears contradicting the statement in the worst way.

“You don’t have to be.” Nicole whispered, her hands cradling the girl’s head to her chest.

Pulling back, Y/n tried, “But, I am. I’m happy he found somebody. Am I happy that person isn’t me? Of course not!” She laughed dryily, “But, when did we ever really think he would love me back?”

Nicole scoffed, “Your whole lives! Your mom and I knew ever since you two were toddlers and Oscar forced me to buy flowers on Valentine’s Day, so he could properly ask you to be his valentine that he was always going to love you, whether you did or not.”

Y/n left her embrace, arms flailing about as she walked further into the house, “Well, that’s not true though! He doesn’t. Maybe he did before, but, now? No way. I mean, for God’s sake! He literally forgot about me!”

Nicole followed her, “I know, but, Y/n, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

Y/n turned around, a bewildered look on her face, “Are you crazy?! Of course it does! He’s dating someone. He’s happy with someone. Happy without me. I don’t do it for him anymore, so he’s forgotten about it all. I don’t mean the same things to him as I used to.”

Nicole sighed, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, “Y/n, I don’t know what he’s doing, but I do know that he loves you. Always has. The way he feels about you isn’t forgettable. It won’t ever be.”

“Don’t do that.” She said as she plopped down onto the kitchen stool, the look of defeat returning.

Nicole shook her head, “Do what?”

“Indulge it. It’s already hard knowing he loves somebody else. I can’t take the idea that I once had him, that he once loved me, and I was too stupid to see it.” She said quietly.

The mother nodded, “So, is that it for you then? Are you done trying with him?”

Y/n lifted her head, meeting the gaze of her second mother, “Do I really have a choice? He’s already made up his mind.”

—

Slipping back into the house, Nicole felt disgusted as she heard the sounds of laughter from around the table. As Y/n broke down from being abandoned by the one steady person in her life, her son joked and enjoyed his life as if he wasn’t destroying someone else in expense.

Her movements were heard as the chatter died down and Chris’s voice boomed from the other room, “Honey? Is that you? Y/n with you?”

Her lone presence answered the second question when she waltzed in and no one trailed behind her.

“Was she not there?” Oscar inquired, Lily cozied up beside him.

Nicole couldn’t even look at her son as she quietly said, “No, she was.”

An uncomfortable silence accompanied the table at the insinuation, something that went straight over Lily’s head because of her lack of knowledge when it came to the situation.

“Oh, she just didn’t want to come anymore?” Oscar jabbed, unknowingly testing his mother.

Her gaze darted to her husband, “No, Oscar, she didn’t want to come.”

The use of his first name in such a hostile tone shut him up, giving Lily a confused look as he sat back.

Clearing his throat, Chris tried to mask the uneasiness, “So, what were you saying about that Silverstone?”

—

His steps took him into the kitchen after he had come home from dropping Lily back off at her house after dinner. He knew his mom was in there, the sound of dishes aggressively clanking around clued him in. She seemed in her own head, so he came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder, “Are you okay?”

She turned around and met him with such a disheartened look that Oscar’s heart dropped, “What are you doing?” She asked, completely distraught.

“I don’t understand,” He gave, his arms folding in front of his chest as he leaned back against the counter.

“You told me 2 months ago you were so in love with Y/n, so why are you with Lily?” Her hands resided on her hips as she tried to put together her son’s sequence of errors.

He groaned, “Mom, I told you not to bring that conversation up. When we talked about that, I was drunk. You know this. None of what I said was true. I wasn’t in the right mind after you had poured me too much wine at that family dinner.”

“None of what you said was true or none of what you said you wanted to be true?” She challenged, disregarding his other arguments.

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t want people thinking I love Y/n.”

“Why?!” She exclaimed, fed up with the way he was toying with her innocence.

He tilted his head, “Why?! Because if it got to her that I loved her, it would ruin the friendship we have. How can you not understand that?”

She let out a breath, “I do understand that, Osc, but you’re pushing her away just the same right now.”

Confusion flicked in his eyes as he mulled over her words for a split second, “No.”

She nodded, “Why do you think she didn’t want to come to dinner? Why do you think she stopped making an effort? Why do you think she’s stopped talking to this family? God, Oscar, why do you think she’s stopped trying to hangout with you and only you, without Lily?”

Her words struck a cord in his chest, an opening that caught him up with all his stupid mistakes, as she continued, “Forgetting to pick her up was the last straw, Osc. I sat with her for almost an hour as she cried about losing her best friend. She can’t do this with you anymore. You’ve torn her apart.”

He sat there, mouth agape, as the reality set in. He had been the worst person to her for too long and she had just taken it without a word. He had thrown her away because someone else had come along and distracted him from the pain of not being loved back only to find out that the distraction had set in motion his worst fear.

Finally, his body returned to the moment and he reached for his keys, muttering an apology to his mother as he ran out the door.

Getting in his car and speeding off, he hoped he hadn’t killed them yet.

—

If you have to hurt me, hurt me once. If you have to end it, get it done. You have all these choices, I have none. You’re all that I have to lose, couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to. I’ve decided on you. I’ve decided on you. And if I’m disappointed it’s cause you’re not the person I knew. If I had it my way I’d be kinder than you.

For the second time that night, pounding was heard on her front door. Groaning, Y/n looked in the mirror, wiping away at her tears and trying to make herself look presentable before reaching for the door handle.

“Mrs. Piastri, I think I just need to be alon-” She started, but drew blank when Oscar’s face stared back at her.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” His eyes pleaded with her to let him in, not literally, but figuratively.

Yet, she wasn’t ready for that as she began to shut the door, however her attempts failed when his foot wedged in the doorway.

“Just hear me out?” He begged, looking into her red eyes.

Sighing quietly, she let him in.

The two traveled to her couch, sitting on opposite sides so formally it could pass as a business agreement.

Transactional, emotionless.

He took a deep breath, buying time to try and figure out a way to explain away his mistakes, “I’ve neglected you and I’ve neglected our friendship. There’s no excuse for what I’ve done, how I’ve treated you. I’ve completely forgotten about you and how much you mean to me. I’m so sorry, Y/n. I don’t know how to make this up to you.”

Her dead stare made him fearful there was no coming back as she said, “Is that all you have to say?”

He nodded, “Yes,”

“Okay,” She got up and walked back to the door, “Then, there’s nothing more to say.”

He cocked his head, “What? No way, Y/n. That can’t just be it.”

“But, it is, Oscar. I can’t keep doing this with you. I won’t keep doing this with you.” She said, hand gripping the door knob as if it would ground her.

He shook his head, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

She groaned as tears began to spill from her eyes and the fighting in her head went on, “I can’t keep loving you and having it backfire in my face.”

His world went quiet at her confession. Years of missed opportunities and mixed signals slapping him in the face as he watched her break down, something that told him this had been waying on her for the longest time.

“I need this to be over. I don’t want to look at you, be with you, anymore. I can’t wait my whole life for you to just wake up one day and say that you love me like I love you. It hurts too much, it’s unnecessary pain that I’m putting myself through for someone who doesn’t even care anymore! I don’t even know why you’re here right now! You’ve forgotten about me, leave it that way. Please, just leave me alone. I’ve put myself out there for so long, put myself in a vulnerable position at such a young age. I never even got a chance to know a life that didn’t revolve around you. I have no one else except for you, my family, your family, and your friends. I was stripped of a typical childhood because I was so obsessed with making you love me and look at where we are! I’ve got no one!”

“I’m not leaving you! That’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do!” He got up from the couch, stalking toward her.

She fired back, “That’s the problem! I need you to leave! I need to be able to exist without you! This has been years in the making, Oscar. I need to be independent. I need to be fine with being alone. With you in my life, I can’t do that. If you’re still a factor, I’ll never be able to move on. I have to fall out of love with you, Osc. And if you love me in the way you always have said you do, you’ll understand and you’ll let me go. I thought that you would get caught up in Lily enough to do it without thinking, but you’re here and you’re fighting, and it’s not wanted.”

As he stood in front of her, their tears synced, finding the same rhythm of leaving the eyes and falling down each cheek onto the floor. Oscar couldn’t believe what was unfolding in front of him. He knew this was his fault. If he had told her earlier how he felt she wouldn’t have gotten this idea and they wouldn’t be here, loosening the tight grip they had on the other.

His hand reached up to her arm, “But, I love you.”

His words seemed like they physically hurt her as she closed her eyes and shrugged his hand off, “You have a girlfriend, Oscar.”

“But, I love you.” He repeated more assertively.

Her eyes opened and they peered into his soul, “That doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late for that.”

Her small hands pushed him toward the door she had somehow opened during their argument. He tried to fight them, push against them, but his body wouldn’t budge as he stumbled outside. Her arm braced on the door as she said, “Don’t say anything else. It’ll make things worse. Just go back to Lily and forget about us.”

With that, she slammed the door on his face, the sound of the lock turning haunted him. A cold reminder that there was no persuading her.

She was going to fall out of love with him whilst he laid awake in bed at night continuously, traitorously falling in love with the idea of her and what they could’ve been.

I decided on you.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #mclaren #mclaren formula 1 #nicole piastri #oscar piasstri #oscar pastry #f1 scenario #f1 grid x reader #f1 #f1 x female reader #f1 2023 #Spotify

[rikigai]

so american ༻¨*:·.

[GUTS series]

pairing: non-idol!ni-ki x fem!reader genre(s): childhood friends to lovers, fluff content/warning: cursing, kissing, skinship, reader is called cutie & pretty, small caps intended, mentions of food.

word count: 2.0k

author's note: hii! welcome to my first work under the GUTS series. i'd recommend listening to the song while reading this hihi. please look forward to future releases! (this is not proofread)

drivin on the right-side road, he says i'm pretty wearin his clothes

you and riki were taking a drive down malibu beach and it had just been the 3rd day of riki's visit to california. his hand was rested on the steering wheel as he gazed upon the sunset with you by his side, snuggled into his black graphic tee which seemed to be a little over 3 sizes too big for you. "cutie" riki said under his breath as he glanced over the sight of you staring at the horizon by the sea. "what was that?" you said with a smile plastered on your face, looking him in the eye. "CUTIE, i said cutie" riki repeated with a tint of bright red on his cheeks. "who's a cutie??" you questioned, knowing he meant you. all you wanted really was for him to say it to your face.

and he's got hands that make hell seem cold

"YOU ARE. okay leave me alonee" responded riki as he poked you on your tickle spot right by your waist. the both of you giggled and laughed.

feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem i wish i wrote

you carefully watched over riki as he made swift turns along the way, driving at just the right pace, and checking the mirrors every once in a while. you didn't really know what had gotten into you. it's not like this was the first time you've seen someone drive, right? it was simply just you and riki killing time together on the road along malibu.

-

looking back at it, riki was always someone you'd love bonding with. ever since you two were in elementary school, you two were inseparable. at every school event, community gathering or function, you'd play around and talk, talk, talk. riki's parents even gave you the nickname "thing 1" and "thing 2" because of how close you two were.

going to elementary school in japan was a memory you cherished. being woken up by the irritating sound of your alarm, sliding into your school uniform, kissing your parents goodbye before heading over to the campus were things you missed when you moved halfway across the world to study uni in the states. but you knew it wasn't any of those things you missed the most, it was riki.

you two made a deal that every year, either one of you would fly all the way to each other. and this year, it was riki's turn to visit you, 10,144 kilometers away.

-

"hey its getting late, do you wanna head back home?" riki asked. you nodded "うん" (un = yes). he takes the next left turn to go back to your apartment. on the way there, you see a flickering sign on top of a truck that read 'ice cream'. "can we stop over for ice cream, pleaaaseee??" you asked riki as the car drove closer to it. "alright kiddo" "WHAT." "I'M KIDDING PLEASE DON'T KILL ME" the two of you bickered as riki pulled over right in front of the ice cream truck.

“good evening, maam, sir! what would you like to get tonight?” asked one of the staff as you and riki approached the counter. “i’ll get two scoops of vanilla aaand she’ll have two scoops of chocolate with a mix-in of cookie dough.” riki replied. you smiled and looked up at riki, snuggling into him as he wrapped his warm arms around you. the night fell and the air started to cool down and you started feeling chilly. “cone or cup?” the staff asked, scooping the chosen ice cream flavors. “cone, please” said riki. they placed riki’s plain vanilla ice cream onto his cone and handed it to him. likewise, they gave you yours but they mixed in the bits of cookie dough beforehand. “we’ll pay by card” riki said, pulling his wallet out of his baggy chrome hearts jeans that hung low around his waist. “no, wait. riki i’ll pay” you said watching him as he took his card out of his wallet. he put his card near the card reader, ignoring what you said. “riki i said i’ll payyy” you repeat, quickly reaching for your card that was slid into the magnetic wallet on the back of your phone. “here take my card” you told the staff. “no y/n, let me pay” riki said. “no, i swear this one’s on me” you insisted, playfully pushing riki away from the card reader. “L/N Y/N I SAID I’LL PAYYY” said riki as he pushed you aside while you took a lick of your ice cream, shoving the scoop onto your nose. he laughed at the sight as he tapped his card, paying for the both of you. the two of you walked back to the car that was parked near. buckled in, riki started the car, looking at the rear-view mirror and at you before heading back onto the road. he caught himself staring at you as you fastened your seatbelt, putting your feet onto his dashboard while you ate your ice cream. "hey, you got some on your-" riki said as he wiped the ice cream off your nose. "笑, とてもきれい" (hehe, totemo kirei = hehe, so pretty). "thank you" you said as you felt your cheeks heating up.

the car drive home was silent, but you both knew you simply enjoyed each others presence. the radio played the week's top songs and you hummed along to them. "why do you always get vanilla? don't you wanna try anything else? you can try mine" you said, placing your cone before riki's mouth while he drove. he ate some ice cream and took a bite out of your cone. "i think i'll stick to my vanilla" riki said. "hey! are you saying my order doesn't taste good- wait, how'd you even know this was my order earlier at the truck?.." you stopped in your tracks. "秘密" (himitsu = secret) he responded with a chuckle and a smirk. "i may or may not have seen your insta stories" he added. "かわいいね" (kawai ne = how cute) you said and hummed in response.

when he laughs at all my jokes

you reach the parking lot of your apartment complex. riki parked the car as the two of you step out. the moment riki had stepped out, he hit his head on the roof of the car. “what was that sound?” you asked after hearing the loud thud riki made. raising his head, riki rubbed the spot on his head that he had hit. “HAHA BIG FOOT HIT HIS HEAD ON THE CAR” you called out, laughing at riki while you hit his shoulder playfully. “SHUT THE FUCK UP MISS FIVE FOOT SEVEN” riki responded, giving you a nudge to push you off of him. he laughs at the joke you made. he couldn’t lie, it was funny, maybe to him.

there was always a height comparison between the two of you ever since you were little. riki was obviously tall, growing up to be around 6'1. you were relatively tall too, constantly being the same height as riki, not until you stopped growing at around eighth grade.

"can't even reach me LMAO" riki said. you looked him in the eye, grabbing him by the hair. "LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK MAN" he responded as you tugged his hair. you giggled at how offended riki looked.

you unlocked the door to your apartment and went in. you went straight to your bed, plopping onto it. riki quickly followed and tucked in right beside you. he looked around your room, as if he hadn't been sleeping in it for the past two nights. he stared at pictures of yourself you'd hung up on your wall, right by your desk, the pictures you had stuck onto your vanity of you and riki, along with your families. he adored the sight. he felt at home being around the person he knew would bring comfort in a world where things may never go his way, but one thing did go his way, and it was finding you.

time passed as you two stared at the ceiling. you laid on top of riki's chest, hearing his heart beat while you two talked. you found solace in spending time with him, even if you knew it would only last a week or two. talking about how life went for the both of you, how different life was without each other, it brought you to the realization of how much you’ve outgrown your old self, the y/n who’s lived in japan her whole life, the y/n you used to be before being punched by the reality you had to face once you moved to the states, away from everyone you’ve ever known. yet somehow riki still knew who you were deep inside. he unlocked a part of you you never knew still existed.

and he says i’m so american. oh god it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much

“do you know how much i’ve missed you, riki?” you ask him, tightening your arms around his torso, positioning your body closer to him. “judging by the way you’re cuddling me, yes” he said as he chuckled. “i miss living in japan. i miss going to school in those cute lil uniforms and 祖母の家に焼きそばを食べに行ったのが懐かしい (sobo noie ni yakisoba o tabe ni itta no ga natsukashi = i miss going to grandma’s house to eat yakisoba)” you told riki before he cut you off. “DID YOU REALLY JUST USE JAPANESE AND ENGLISH IN THE SAME SENTENCE?? that’s literally so american of you, y/n. HAHSJAHHS” riki exclaimed in shock, laughing at you. he’s never heard you speak both languages in one sentence, considering the fact that you wouldn’t even need to be doing so in the first place. “oh my days, shut the fuck up, riki. it’s not that deep, i swear” you said with a pout on your face as you began to sulk after riki teased you for the third billionth time just today. you genuinely thought it was funny though, hearing both japanese and english come out of your mouth at once. you rolled out of bed and sat down. “NO NO NO i’m sorry, i’m sorry 戻ってきて” (modotte kite = come back) he said when he saw you sulking. he dragged you onto the bed, making you lie down. he trapped you with his long limbs, clinging onto you and hugging you. you both giggled and laughed. riki had his arms around you as you tickled him, trying to get him off of you.

the two of you were eventually worn off and tired from all the tickling and laughing. you stopped at a position wherein your face was just beside his, looking at him as he tried catching his breath from whatever happened earlier. riki planted a kiss on your soft, bright pink lips before kissing your forehead too. he flipped through his natural black hair, revealing the undercut that laid below his grown hair then plopped back onto his pillow. his eyes shut close, falling asleep beside you. “good night, big foot” you said, caressing his cheek. “hey, i heard that” riki said, eyes closed with a smile. “shhh i thought you were asleep” you replied. “good night, cutie” he drifted off into sleep as you watched him carefully, thinking of how much he actually meant to you. life was just better with him. maybe it wasn’t uni, or the lifestyle here, or being away from japan that made life a lot harder. maybe it was riki’s absence that made everything a challenge for you to overcome alone.

i apologize if it’s a little too much, just a little too soon, but if the conversation were ever to come up, i don’t wanna assume this stuff

but ain’t it love?

you laid there as the silence of your bedroom got louder, with only riki’s breathing finding its way to your ears. soon, you decided to drift off too, snuggled into the comforting warmth of his body next to you, with thoughts of him wandering in that head of yours. he took over your brain and maybe, just maybe, your heart as well.

i think i’m in love.

#Spotify #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen au #olivia rodrigo #enhypen ni ki #enhypen niki #enhypen riki #niki x reader #enhypen x reader #nishimura riki #niki fluff #enhypen jungwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen scenarios #engene #enhypen fanfiction #rikigai #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part two (m).

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 32.0k

themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, talks of sexual misconduct (cruises incidents), mentions of death, a lot of sexual/suicidal jokes and general foul language, a lot of business talk, phone sex & a handjob, degradation, roman’s implied demisexuality, reader's got a tooth motif bcs all the other roy sibs have their own motifs, a lot of morally grey shit

series masterlist. main masterlist.

The Roy’s summer home in the Hamptons was nothing short of grand. That was always the bare minimum for the family, after all. Though you had been preoccupied with work, having a lot piled up because of your time off for Shiv’s wedding—you had dropped quite a few important meetings to come at Logan’s behest. He called for you, and for all his children, to come to the Hamptons and discuss his plans to sell the company.

You stepped into the home, hands buried within your pockets. Immediately, you were hit by an overwhelmingly foul stench. It smelled an awful lot like rotten meat and, strangely, the piss-sodden alleyways in New York. Your face twisted into a grimace as you strode in, finding Kendall wandering aimlessly downstairs.

“Hey, uh, hi,” he said, awkwardly reaching for a hug when you stuck your arm out for a handshake. The both of you gingerly stepped away from each other.

“What’s that smell?” you asked, knowing full and well that Roman and Shiv were still quite angry with him for basically stabbing them in the back.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I think they’re trying to figure that out,” he replied, waving his hands around to gesture to the milling workers. “You, uhm, you’ll get used to it. Listen, Y/N, I know you and Rome are close, so I just wanted to ask if you could… talk to him. For me.”

Arching a brow, you tilted your head. “You can’t talk to him yourself?”

“He’s not… he’s being difficult right now.”

“Understandably so.”

There was a melancholic look to his eyes. “I know. Can you just tell him I’m sorry? I want… I want us to be okay.”

Pursing your lips, you gave him a firm nod. “Okay, yeah, sure. No promises that it’d change anything, though. You know where he is?”

“By the beach. With Shiv.”

With a hum of farewell, you started backing off, making your way to the sandy shores not too far from the house. You spotted their figures in the distance, bundled in dark coats and long scarves. When they spotted you approaching, the both of them waved.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted, smiling brightly.

“Hey, fuck-face,” said Roman, giving you a quick hug, before stepping back to allow Shiv to do the same. “We were all waiting for you.”

“Sorry I’m late—work has been kicking my ass lately.” 

Snorting, Roman quipped, “You know you can take a couple days to relax, right? I’m literally your boss.”

“I’m a general manager, Rome. If I stop, that’s a large chunk of Waystar down. I’m trying to keep the company from sinking further into the depths of hell,” you said lightly, crossing your arms. “But it seems like Logan wants to sell it away. What’s our viewpoint?”

The both of them struggled for words.

“If the selling isn’t actually real… like some kind of fucked-up loyalty test, we were just talking about how dad’s going to kill Kendall,” said Shiv, looking none too upset about the prospect. “How that would mean it could be Rome who takes up the mantle.”

That made sense. Connor was not an option, not in Logan’s eyes. He was barely a son to the man, much less the heir to his legacy.

“It could,” you said, careful. “It could also mean you, though.”

 Both you and Roman stared Shiv down. 

Finally, she caved and shook her head with a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Yes, it could be me.”

Sensing that the two of them were on the verge of another catfight, you quickly intercepted, “I bumped into Kendall in the house just now. He wanted me to, uhm, tell you that he’s sorry.”

Roman’s features twisted. “Well, tell him he can stick his apologies up his ass.”

“I’m not a fucking messenger! Tell him that yourself.”

Rolling her eyes, Shiv jerked her head back to the house. “We should probably get back inside. Dad’s gonna be here any minute by now.”

It was on your trek back that the three of you bumped into Kendall, who was wearing sunglasses even though the sky wasn’t all that visible through the gloomy clouds. Both Shiv and Roman didn’t hesitate to duke out their frustrations on him, asking why he changed his mind on the takeover so quickly. 

“You do realize how fucked you’re going to be once you’re no longer of any use to him, right?” asked Roman to his older brother. “He’s got you eating fuckin’ humiliation gumbo on TV, and then what? Nothing.”

Snickering, Shiv added in, “Dad’s gonna play a merry tune on you and then throw you out the fucking window. You know that, right?”

“He’s like a sex robot for dad to fuck,” said Rome.

“He’s like a beaten dog.”

“He’s both of those things—and also a piece of shit.”

To your surprise, Kendall stood by and took all the insults his siblings lobbied at him, expression permanently fixed into one of unadulterated misery. A part of you felt bad for him, but another part of you knew he’d brought this upon himself.

Shiv stepped closer to him, each one of her words saturated in venom. “He’s a fucking narcissist who repeatedly puts his self-interest above everything else, and then tries to justify it with half-assed appeals of the rigors of the fucking market.”

“You’re a fucking prick,” Roman finally tacked on after Shiv’s mini-monologue. He glanced over at you. “Y/N, you wanna throw a punch?”

“What were you thinking, Kendall?” you quietly asked. “In what world did you see yourself winning against your father? And even if you did win, it’d be at the cost of your siblings. Would you kill them for your own personal gain? And not to mention that you relapsed and you’re not getting the help you need. You didn’t even thank Roman and I for picking you up from that addict’s shithole. We got you out of there because we were worried for you. We care about you. And you threw that right back in his face.”

Your words lingered heavily between the four of you. 

When Kendall remained as silent as a statue, Roman let out a loud groan, rolling his eyes to the side. “Come on! Fight back, you fuck-bag.”

“Guys, I just… I…” Kendall paused to look off into the waters. “I can’t get into it.”

“Oh, you can’t get into it? Shucks,” Roman mocked. “Fuck you. Come on, man. Treat us! Why did you actually back out?”

Shame flooded his features. He completely disregarded Roman’s question by telling his little sister, “I’m sorry, Shiv. About the wedding.”

There were tears in her eyes. Her father had made her cry after ruining family therapy, and now her older brother was making her cry after ruining her wedding. 

“How dare you apologize to me?” she asked, a sharp edge to her tone. With that, she rotated on her heel and strode off. 

You and Roman followed after her, your arm linked with his.

“You look like shit, by the way,” Roman murmured to his brother as he brushed past him.

By the time you got back to the house, you caught sight of the cooks dumping the expensive food they’d been preparing and laboring over for hours straight into the trash. When you wondered aloud what was going on, one of them quietly answered that they’d found the source of the smell—a dead raccoon covered in maggots, rotting in the chimney. Logan demanded all the food be removed because it’d been sitting around in the stench, calling for pizza to be ordered instead. 

When lunch rolled around, you sat between Roman and Kendall, feeling incredibly tense. The atmosphere between the siblings had yet to clear, and you weren’t quite sure if it ever would. The chatter died away when Logan cleared his throat sharply to quell the commotion and greet the family.

He began with a blunt address of the bear hug situation, which you noticed made Kendall’s foot tap against the floor in agitation.

“I guess the question is… do we really want this fight?” he asked. “Or is now the moment to cash in and fuck off out of the casino?”

Silence. He was met with dead silence.

“If we do fight, I need to tell the board who I want to take over,” said Logan. “So, please—I want you to speak freely.”

His words made Shiv tip her head back and scoff-laugh. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law?”

“Come on! We’re pals here. Let’s fuckin’ have it out!” gruffed Logan as he surveyed the table.

As if to purposefully push her father’s buttons, Shiv crossed her arms and pointedly kept her mouth shut. 

Tentative, Kendall spoke, “I think you should fight, but, uh… you’re the one who built it all. The man, the myth, the legend.”

In a condescending tone, Roman crooned, “Aw. That’s adorable. You’re always lookin’ out for Pops, aren’t you?”

“But is he saying Dad should stay on because that’s what Sandy and Stewy would want?” asked Connor with a frown, ever the conspiracist. “How do we know he’s not a double agent?”

“Nice to see you, too, Con,” mumbled Kendall.

Shaking his head, the older brother said, “Hey, Ken, I’m just saying what others are thinking.”

“It’s possible,” Shiv added, narrowing her eyes.

“Should we frisk him for a wire? Burn him? See if he’s a witch?” joked Roman, scratching at the back of his head.

Interrupting the banter, Logan said, “He’s taken his medicine.”

“Taken his medicine?” Shiv parroted in an affronted manner. “Is that it? Dad—you beat Roman with a fucking slipper in Gustav until he cried for ordering lobster, remember? And Kendall tries to kill you and he’s only five minutes out in the cold?”

You remembered that day. When you’d casually told Roman that you preferred lobster over crab. How he tried to order it for you instead of what was already on the table, and how an already ticked-off Logan was tipped over the edge and lost his shit, taking his frustrations out on Roman. The memory of the actual beating itself was hazy—all you could recall were thuds and muffled whimpers, fearful tears on your cheeks. The purple bruises on his face didn’t fade away for a long while. He would try to joke about it, but you never found it funny. You had apologized over and over again, until Roman told you to shut up and forget about it, nonchalantly adding that he wanted the lobster, too. That it wasn’t just for you.

But it was. It was all yours, had Roman been successful in acquiring the crustacean for you. You didn’t need to know that, though.

Trying his best to shrug off Shiv’s words, Roman tilted his head to the side and quipped, “Well, it’s not polite to order the most expensive item on the menu when you’re not paying, Siobhan.”

Logan could dump a billion dollars into an incinerator and that would barely even make a dent on how much wealth he was hoarding, you wanted to say. You kept your mouth firmly shut, biting down on your tongue.

As per typical Logan fashion, he brushed off the call-out of his abuse to his son. “We’re not doing memory lane here. Come on, spit it out. What do you all think? Stick or sell?”

“Well, I think you’re in the prime of your life,” chimed Tom. “I think another decade is just what the doctor ordered.”

From beside you, Roman’s knee nudged into yours as he began miming choking on a dick. You smiled, almost laughing out loud, but caught yourself before you did. 

“I, uhm, I think selling seems cool…” began Willa.

“Hey, Dad, Willa thinks selling seems cool!” snorted Roman, which made Willa fall uncomfortably silent.

With a disapproving stare, Connor bit out, “Asshole.”

“You,” said Logan. It took you a moment to realize that he was staring directly at you. Heat prickled at the back of your neck. “What do you think?”

You sat up straighter in your chair. “You’ll be rich enough to live a thousand lives if you sell. You’ll still be rich enough to do so if you stay in the game. The only difference is, you lose your legacy if you go with the former.”

Scrutinizing you, Logan dipped his head and took a sip of champagne. “Mmh, wise words, sure. Not your opinion, though. Not what I asked for. Those are just facts we all fuckin’ know. Bah—don’t waste my time. Fucking useless. Leeching off of me while your parents are parading in a nameless exotic country, drinking their brains into toxic liquid that leaks out of their ears.”

Shame curled within your stomach, and a blistering flush spidered through your skin. You could feel all eyes on you, including Roman’s. You were no stranger to Logan’s verbal abuse, but it’d been a long time since he brought up your parents' and their neglectful nature. The wounds were reopened, and stung much worse than you remembered.

Drumming her fingers against the table, Shiv said, “Dad, I think it’s possible that you’ve somewhat chilled the atmosphere of free-flowing debate here.”

“You know, Kodak was trading at about a hundred dollars a share back in ‘97. Yesterday, you could pick it up for about three bucks. That could be us. If we cash out, we could walk away with ten billion.” Logan glanced at his youngest son, noticing how he’d shuffled his chair closer to you. “Roman. What do you think?”

Swallowing, Roman shrugged. “I dunno, Dad. I fuckin’ love money, but I’m really scared of you, so…” He made a high-pitched noise, barely passable as a laugh. “Yeah, uhm, honestly—I’m not sure I’m willing to give my strategic advice in a public forum when I could just be a, uh, a player in any future moves.”

There was obvious exasperation in Logan’s eyes. Disappointments, the lot of you were in his eyes. Without another word, Logan stood up and began to hobble out of the dining room, pizza left untouched. 

“Uhm, Dad?” Roman called out after him, confused. 

He didn’t respond.

Roman patted your back twice before getting up as well, following after his father. Shiv was hot on his heels.

One by one, Logan had told them through the door he had closed behind him. He wanted his kids to come in one by one, alone, so that he could have their unfiltered opinion.

Roman went in first, but not before squeezing your hand, and slipping through. When he emerged only ten minutes later, his face was despondent. But his lips were twitching upwards, and you could immediately tell that he was just faking it.

“He’s dying,” he joked with faux anguish. “Riddled with cancer.”

The way Shiv’s brows kinked told him that she didn’t find it all that funny. “Rome.”

“What? It’s a joke. It’s funny. Dad’s got cancer. What’s not funny about that?” You patted his back and nudged him over to the couches, where Connor and Willa were sitting.

The eldest son rolled his eyes. “Sick puppy,” he called Roman.

“No, but seriously, he asked me to run the company.” Dead silence. “I’m kidding. Or am I?”

It was then that Logan called for Shiv to go in. You took Roman’s arm, leading him off into another room, where it was quieter.

“Hope you’re not planning on molesting me back here,” Roman languidly commented, but didn’t fight off your grip. “Nobody would believe me after what I said about Dad—I’d be like the boy who cried wolf.”

“Rome,” you said, partially exasperated, partially somber. “What did he say back there?”

The man across from you scratched at the back of his head. “Honestly? Nothing.”

“Hm?”

“I mean—I explained to him that it’d be smart to sell some shit, keep some shit. Financialize the company. I don’t know. Couldn’t really gauge his reaction—then he just said okay and told me I could go.” Your friend rested his hands on his hips. “Do you think that was smart? Do you, uhm, think he thinks that was stupid?”

It took you another moment to shake your head tentatively. “I think you did the best you could, given the ultimatum. Besides—you wouldn’t really want to run this shitshow, would you?”

He stepped back in an affronted manner. “What do you mean? You don’t think I can do it?”

“It’s not a matter of whether or not you can do it, Ro. It’s about if you want to or not. And I know you wouldn’t. It’s not… it’s not you. You’ve always said the company was like a cage for you.”

The way Roman squared his shoulders told you that he was growing defensive. “Yeah, well, it’s like a fuckin’—a good fuckin’ golden cage. An amazing cage. A cage where I can roll around and throw shit at people. I’d like to stay here for the rest of my life.”

“Do you? Really?”

“What, is this some kind of reverse psychology bullshit Dad put you up to? Just—” He stepped back when you reached out for him. “Fuck off.”

With a huff, you shook your head. “Roman, you need to pull your head out of your fucking ass and realize that I’m the only friend you have. If you can’t trust me, you’re fucked.”

There was a tense beat of silence between you.

Then, he narrowed his eyes on you. “If you stab my back, I’m going to kill you, then throw myself off the highest building I can find. It’ll be like a Shakespearean tragedy.”

“Okay, Rome.”

“I’ll put your head on a spike. Keep it as decoration.”

Slowly, he let you wrap your arms around him. “Okay, Romeo.”

“I’ll pluck your teeth out and wear them around my neck like a string of pearls.”

“Love you, too, Ro,” you said, hugging him tight.

“Yeah, whatever, fuck-face.” He buried his nose into your neck, inhaling sharply. “I knew you were going to molest me.”

The family reconvened later that night, where Logan announced that he decided he was going to keep the company, claiming his ambitions to be the last man standing. Then, he pronounced Roman and Kendall as co-chief operating officers, much to everyone’s dismay.

“We need to stick tight—tighter than ever now,” Logan defended when Roman began to protest. 

“But he—no. No, I’m sorry. Excuse me? He… he tried to help your oldest enemy to take over and now he’s getting a fucking promotion? Is that what’s happening?” Rome asked from beside you, arms crossed over his chest. 

The old man nodded. “That’s my decision.”

“Well, it’s bullshit,” Roman declared.

Quiet settled over the group. 

Like a dog being kicked, Roman withered away beneath his father’s contemptuous stare. You put a hand on his shoulder. 

“And you’re going to name a successor?” Connor asked.

“After some consideration, I think we just need a name to flag privately to big investors for now. I mean, it could be anyone. I’m not going anywhere. Could be a stuffed fuckin’ shirt. Could be Y/N, for all I know.”

Did he just compare you to a stuffed shirt—?

“Gerri,” said Logan. “It could be Gerri. We might as well say it’s Gerri.”

With a quirked brow, Shiv said, “Congratulations.”

Her godmother tilted her head and shifted in her seat. “Wow. Okay. Thank you.”

“It won’t be Gerri,” Logan rudely clarified. “But Gerri’s fine. Just so we’re clear.”

She was an expert at hiding her disdain, clearing her throat slightly. “No, yeah, I think we’re very clear.”

With that, Logan dismissed himself, calling for Kendall to follow after him. His number one boy.

It was clear that Roman was still upset. He pulled away from you to go sulk about to his sister.

That night, when the moon shone brighter in the Roy’s summer home than it ever did in the city, and you were buried under a thick blanket, you felt the mattress dip beneath another person’s weight. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Roman.

“Shut up,” he gruffed when you smiled ever so slightly, even though you hadn’t said anything.

You hummed pleasantly when he curled his arms around your form like a koala would a tree. The two of you fell asleep that way, breathing each other in and dreaming of necklaces made of teeth.

The acquisition to take on PGM was a bad fucking idea. One of the worst you’ve heard, in fact. When Logan brought it up to you and a few other managers during a meeting, you didn’t hesitate to go bee-lining for Roman’s office, demanding him to tell you every single detail.

“So, you think this is, like, not good?” he asked, voice high-pitched and unstable. Just earlier today, he’d been telling his dad and Shiv what a great idea this was.

“No, Roman. It’s not fucking good. I’m sorry, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want the most trustworthy news source in America right now to be adopted into a fuckin’... fascist, right-wing, conservative dick jerking fest!” You drummed your fingers against his table. “Ro, this can’t happen. It could very well tank Waystar, and news media outlets in general. Reliability goes down, money goes down, our rivals go up. The political climate couldn’t handle such a change like this—”

Pulling at his face, Roman shook his head. “Fuckin’ political climate. Everything’s about the political climate these days. Fuck!”

“Roman, I’m being serious,” you said, brows furrowing. 

He sucked in a deep breath. “Fuck. Ugh—fuck! You are… you’re so…” He made an unintelligible noise while shaking his fists at you, nose wrinkling. “You’re right. God. I hate saying that. Feels like I just took a bite out of a rock. But even if you are, I can’t just stab dad in the back like that.”

Shoulders loosening, you nodded in understanding. “What’re you gonna do?”

“Tabitha is friends with Naomi Pierce. I’ll ask her to get me in touch,” Roman said, lips pursed to the side. It didn’t go past your notice that his stance on the Pierce situation was still left ambiguous. 

Your eyebrows raised a fraction. “Tabitha? You guys still going steady?”

“Uh-huh. Yup. Never better,” he replied, a tad too quickly.

“Really?” you asked. To none of his surprise, you read him like an open book. “You must really like her.”

“Mhm.”

“But not like-like her?”

Roman clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth in distaste. “What are you, nine?”

“You didn’t say yes,” you said in a sing-song voice. Then, you sobered up to seriously tell him, “Oh, Ro, she’s a great catch, sure, but if you don’t have romantic feelings for her, then don’t string her along like that.”

Rolling his eyes to the side, Roman tried his best to sidestep the topic. “It’s none of your beeswax, you prick. Anyways—you’re coming to Hungary, right? Corporate retreat and all that jazz.”

You didn’t feel like the conversation about Tabitha was quite over, but you let it slide for now. “Yes, Roman. Not really looking forward to it, now that I have to deal with an entire acquisition worth billions hovering over me.”

“Just relax for now—it’s not concrete, even if dad says it is.” Roman stood up from his desk to go pour himself a drink. “I’ll save you a spot on the plane. Next to me, if I’m feeling nice. Next to Greg if I want to be entertained by watching you kill yourself in front of him.”

“Thanks, Romeo,” you dryly said.

“You’re welcome. Okay, you can go away now. I wanna jerk off in front of the window without you watching this time. If you stay, I’ll fuck you against it, and that’d be my one-way ticket to a stern finger-wagging by HR.”

With a snort, you got up from your chair, heading for the door. You couldn’t help the way your cheeks burst aflame at his words, even though you knew it was just light-hearted banter. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, you fuckin’ slut.”

“Bitch,” he shot back, just as you stepped foot out of his office. 

“Whore!” you yelled over your shoulder, loud enough to have a few employees turn their head curiously. 

Roman watched you go through the glass windows, shaking his head with fond amusement.

The estate in Hungary was surrounded by forests and clean air—a stark contrast to New York. You were walking alongside Roman down to the hunting grounds, hands shoved into the pockets of your jacket. The rifle slung across his shoulder kept bumping into you, and you would push him away with a mild grin each time it did. He wasn’t very good at walking straight, eventually colliding into you mere minutes later.

The amicable atmosphere was effectively killed when Kendall approached the two of you, solemn-faced as ever. 

“Hey, guys,” he greeted in a monotone voice. “Listen, I have a question.”

Both of you stared at him, waiting for him to go on.

After an awfully lengthy pause he continued, “So, uh, did you guys get a call from that biographer?”

Right. You’d been in the middle of discussing with Tom how he’d landed a top position at ATN when your phone began to ring. You politely excused yourself to take the call, surprised to hear a woman claiming to write an unauthorized biography on your godfather—and she wanted you as a source. Though you had many opinions on a man, you knew that voicing them would be nothing but trouble for you.

Roman rolled his eyes. “I mean, yeah, obviously. I’m the interesting one, after all.”

When you laughed, Roman grinned along with you. 

“I got a call, too,” you admitted. “Did you?”

Tilting his head into a nod, Kendall mumbled, “Yeah. I did.”

“Well? Are you thinking of talking to her?” asked Roman.

“I don’t know,” Kendall said. “Maybe. You guys?”

“No… but if you’re going to talk to her, then I guess I have to talk to her, too. Just to correct your bullshit,” Roman responded.

Two seconds of silence before you huffed out a sigh. “It's a messy business that I don’t want to involve myself in. If Logan finds out, which I’m sure he will, I’m not going to let myself be killed because of it.”

The two started talking about Pierce. Both of them sounded so awfully fake about the entire ordeal that you wanted to bash their heads together and force them not to speak through a brown nosing filter. Their conversation came to a halt when Roman’s phone began to ring, and he stepped away to answer privately, much to Kendall’s chagrin.

“Hey, Kendall,” you broached, rocking your weight back and forth on your heels. “If you talk to that writer, Logan won’t be as forgiving to you this time. He’ll slit your throat in front of everyone to see.”

The man who you onced looked up to as an older brother stared at you with a dead expression. “I know,” was all he said. 

Once Roman came ambling back, Kendall began to interrogate him about the call. Defensive, Roman lied—you knew he was. He had an obvious tell: the way his nose would twitch and his left eye went all squinty. The older brother told him he was full of shit.

Before they could break out in another argument, a Hungarian hunter came up to the three of you, claiming that the truck was ready to take them out into the wilderness. 

“Let’s go murder a terrified mammal,” quipped Roman, taking your hand and leading you away from Kendall.

The hunting party returned to the estate with four boars. You took no part in the killings, having stayed in the truck to speak to Gerri on the phone. Apparently, she had very strong doubts about adopting PGM, and wanted to know if you felt the same. You were Logan’s family, she had said, and he listened to family more than his own general counsel. 

You told her you would if you could, but Logan was adamant on taking on PGM. No amount of needless peddling would sway his mind. 

Hours later, when the sky was dark and the table was laid out with all sorts of fruits and glasses of spiced wines, everybody was seated for dinner. You sat between Roman and Gerri, speaking to both of them in hushed whispers about nothing quite important.

The amicable atmosphere was shattered when Logan stood up to address everybody. 

“Someone has spoken to Michelle Pantsil.” The biographer. 

Both you and Roman glanced at each other, knowing that it was neither of you. Was it possibly Kendall? Had he been lying to the both of you again? Or had it been someone else? Tom? Greg? Gerri? Frank?

“We’ve got rats on this ship,” continued your godfather, rounding behind people’s chairs in a menacing, domineering manner. “And Pierce—who’s got my back, hm? Who’s really behind me? Anyone wanna own up? Hm? Anyone want to rat out a rat?”

Ah. So it seemed Pierce knew of Logan’s moves now. You didn’t dare chance a glance at Roman, knowing it was him who had told Naomi.

Logan began to sharply question a few people at the table, demanding to know if they had anything they wanted to say to him. It shocked you even further when he barked out an order for everyone to put their phones on the table—both company and private.

“Is that really necessary?” asked Gerri. “I’m not even sure if that’s legal to demand people to—”

“Yeah, well, we’re getting down to brass fucking tacks,” spat Logan, eyeing everybody darkly. You did as he said, placing both of your devices onto the table—you had nothing to hide. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Roman slipping his phone beneath his leg.

When he caught your gaze, his head dipped forward a bit and his eyebrows pulled together. Shut up, his eyes seemed to tell you. Even without verbalizing it, he still somehow managed to be rude to you.

You narrowed them back at him, wordlessly telling him not to worry.

“Karl, do you like the Pierce deal?” Logan queried.

“I do. Yes, I do. Yes, yeah.”

With a dry chuckle, Logan shook his head. “Bullshit. Boar on the floor.”

The two men began their back and forth—Logan commanding Karl to stand in the corner whilst the former sputtered out indignant protests. It was embarrassing and humiliating, and he was going to do it all anyway.

“Tom.”

“Me? Uh, Pierce?”

“Yes,” said an exasperated Logan.

Clearing his throat, Tom hesitantly said, “Well, there’s a lot of factors, but uhm, yes. Personally, I like it. I do.”

“Boar on the fucking floor, over there,” gruffed your godfather, pointing over to where Karl stood. 

With no protest, Tom pushed away from the table and slunk off. 

“Gerri! Stand up! Tell me about Pierce.” 

Her gaze stayed on her untouched plate as she got onto her feet. “Well, to be perfectly honest with you… I’ve, uhm, I’ve had a few doubts.”

“Honesty,” Logan finally said. “You see, everybody? Do you see? Honesty. Greg, stand up! Did you get any orders from my brother? The fucking Conscience of the Prairies?”

Everybody watched as Greg stammered out a near incoherent response. He was sent off to stand next to Tom and Karl, as well. This seemed to be Roman’s breaking point, because he burst into a fit of giggles.

“Roman!” barked his father. 

This brought him back to sobriety. “I like it, Dad, for real—”

“Stand the fuck up!”

With a bitter murmur beneath his breath, Roman got up to his feet. With discreet motions, you silently swiped the phone from his chair and placed it beneath your leg so it wouldn’t be seen by his father. 

Desperate to divert the attention away from him, Roman said, “Kendall took a call from the biographer.”

Logan rested his hands upon Kendall’s shoulders, which made Roman bristle even harder. His older brother droned out, “We all got a call, Rome. Y/N, too.”

“Okay, yes, but you—you seemed like you actually wanted to talk to her.”

“To smoke you out for Dad.”

Roman’s nose wrinkled. “What? Fuck you! Why’d you get to smoke me out? I was smokin’ you out!”

As you watched Logan’s fingers curl into Kendall’s shirt, you couldn’t help but think of him as a meat puppet of sorts. So damaged and broken and directionless, ready to heed every single one of his father’s words. 

“Why don’t you tell us about your mystery call?” 

“Oh, the phone call?” Roman propped a hand on his hip, risking a glance at you. Then, he violently began to scratch at the back of his head. “Yeah, sure, it was Frank. He meant to call you, he wants to know if the plan to overthrow Dad is still happening. ”

Finally pulling away from Kendall, Logan’s voice rang out across the room like a slap to the face. “Someone spiked Pierce. Which one of you boars did it?”

He yelled for the three men in the corner to get down on their knees, claiming it was a game. Your godfather, now more of a monster than a man, called for everyone to get up and cheer, “Boar on the floor!” as Tom, Greg, and Karl scrambled about to eat a sausage that was tossed to them in order to prove their loyalty. He demanded they oink and squeal like real piggies would.

It was cruel and animalistic. And Roman was filming with his personal phone, a sadistic smile on his face. 

You would’ve berated him for it, if not for Kendall cornering you against the wall when everybody else was distracted by the Boar on the Floor spectacle. 

“I know you took Roman’s phone. I saw you,” he said, eyes flickering down to your pockets, where you had hidden away the mobile.

“Fuck off, Kendall,” you responded with a daggered edge. “You touch me, and I’ll bite your fucking head off.”

“I thought you were smarter than this,” he told you. “Defending my brother—do you know how many times he’s fucked you over? How many times he’ll keep fucking you over?”

Curling your upper lip in contempt, you spat out, “Get the fuck away from me, Kendall. What’s wrong with you?”

Suddenly, his hand shot out to grab Roman’s company phone from your pocket, prompting you to shove at him, trying to grab the phone back. The commotion caught the attention of everyone else, Roman included. 

He was quick to step forward, pulling you away from his brother so he could try to yank the device away himself. 

“What the fuck? Give me my fucking phone back, asshole!”

“What are you hiding? What’s the code?”

“Are you fucking serious? My code is, uhm, fuck you—”

The two of them began to tussle, arguing indistinctly as they pulled at each other’s hair and limbs. You stepped back, burying your face in your hands in utter exhaustion. 

When Kendall locked Roman in a chokehold, Roman finally keyed in his PIN, shoving his older brother away with a labored breath. 

“Okay, you got it! You fuckin’ happy? There’s nothing in there. Now give it back—give me my fucking phone!” When he began advancing on his brother again, Colin stepped in to keep him at bay. “What, are you going to touch me, too? Grab my fucking balls—I will drop you, you cocksucker!”

Finally, Kendall opened up Roman’s call history, not at all to see Naomi Pierce at the very top. He didn’t hesitate to tell his father.

“Dad, it was Roman. Roman talked to Pierce.”

Panic weaving through his tone, Roman shook his head. “Dad—I didn’t… I didn’t betray you.”

“Then what’s this call from today?” asked Kendall, holding up the phone. “Why are you talking to her?”

For a moment, Roman’s eyes flickered over to you. “Come on, man. I wasn’t trying to fuck the deal. I was trying to land the deal. I was trying to help—I thought it would be a… a nice surprise.”

His words struck you across the face like a slap. Roman had told you that you were right—that acquiring PGM was a terrible idea. You’d thought he was on your side. And now—it seemed like he was doing it all for his father’s favor. The best of both worlds, blew right up in his face.

“Roman,” began Logan, “you’re a moron.”

Crackling silence.

Kendall cleared his throat. “Boar on the floor?”

Having enough of him, you snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Kendall.”

“Y/N was helping him,” said Kendall. “Tried hiding his phone from the table.”

Logan swung his heated, intense gaze onto you. It took all you had within you not to flinch away. 

“I didn’t know what Roman was doing. I just didn’t want to get him in trouble.”

Your godfather shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “How sweet,” he spat. “The two of you are perfect for each other. Fucking morons!”

“Dad,” said Roman, voice warbling. “I am not a moron. She isn’t, either. Y/N, tell him—tell him why you thought PGM was a bad idea.”

Everybody’s eyes were on you. Suddenly, your throat went dry, and all words flew out of your vocabulary. You shook your head, a defeated sigh falling from your lips. Roman’s shoulders drooped with the weight of shame and loss.

“How much is a gallon of milk?” Logan suddenly asked his youngest son, advancing on him until he withered beneath his father’s glare. 

“What?”

“How much is a gallon of fucking milk?”

Confused beyond his mind, Roman said, “I don’t know. I mean, who the fuck knows, Dad? Literally nobody knows! Who gives a shit?”

“Greg! How much is a gallon of milk?”

The lanky man stammered out, “Uh, I mean, like, regular milk, or—?”

Burying his face into his hands, not unlike you had done earlier, Logan sighed out, “I am surrounded by snakes and fucking morons! You’re a bunch of silk-stocking fucks! Who backs me on Pierce, huh? Who?”

When he was met by silence, Kendall answered in everyone’s stead.

“None of them do, Dad. They’re all against it. Karl’s lying, Tom’s lying, Gerri’s playing both sides, Y/N is very clearly against what you’re doing.”

Hot shame curled within your gut. Though you were steadfast in your beliefs against taking PGM, disappointing your father figure was never a pleasant sensation, no matter how terrible he was.

“Uncle Logan, I’m sorry—” you began, but he was quick to shut you down.

“Don’t go sucking my dick now, girl. It’s too fucking late. You’re lucky your brainless parents are major shareholders, or I would’ve fired you a dozen times by now. Do you know that? How fucking worthless you are?”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, training your gaze onto the ground. 

“Here’s the news,” Logan said, addressing the entire group now. “We are going after it. And what’s more… I will win.”

With that, he stormed off, disappearing somewhere in the vast house. 

“Hey,” Roman tried to speak to you, but you maneuvered away, disappearing up some stairs, where your room was waiting for you.

It took a lot of indecisive thought, but you left the door unlocked.

To none of your surprise, Roman came crawling into your room when everybody was asleep. He slipped into the empty spot beside you, slurring out a litany of nonsensical apologies mixed in with how much of an asshole Kendall was.

“You’re drunk,” you whispered, pushing his face away. You hadn’t the heart to be angry at him. Not this late at night. Not when he was just as upset as you were about what had transpired during dinner. “Go to sleep, Rome.”

“Give me a kiss g’night. And tell me you forgive me.”

“Ro—”

“Just—just fucking do it! Don’t ask me stupid questions.”

Shifting in the bed, you leaned forward to press light kisses to both his fluttering eyelids. “We’re good, Romeo. I don’t know. I’m mad at you, but not as much as I’m mad at Kendall and your dad. I’m your only friend, remember? I love you, asshole.”

“Yeah. Shut up.” His hands curled over your waist and pulled you close. “Say that again.”

There was a laugh in your voice. “What? That I’m your only friend?”

He prodded your side with a stiff finger. “The fuckin’... the love thing.”

A part of you contemplated telling him to fuck off. But the wide, warbling brown of his irises told you that he was desperate to hear it. Desperate for any crumb of affection he was offered. “Mhm. I love you, Ro. I do. Now go to sleep.”

He lazily blinked at you, as if he was a cat. “Don’t be mad if I puke all over you.”

“I won’t be mad.”

“I’d be mad if you puked all over me. Why wouldn’t you be mad at me?”

“Go to sleep, Rome.”

“Night. You smell good, you know? Like if a unicorn had sex with a bouquet of flowers.” Without warning, he sank his teeth into your neck, and you had to physically pry his teeth from your skin to keep him from using you like a chew toy.

Muffling a yawn, you murmured, “Go to sleep before I euthanize you.”

It took him another hour to finally drift off, but when he did, the two of you slept better than you had in months.

Roman was terribly hungover the next morning. Headaches and droopy lids, barely registering your voice telling him to get up. When he finally rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he noticed that you were already dressed for the day, having gotten ready while he was passed out. 

“Everyone’s waiting for you, Ro,” you gently told him, brushing his hair out of his face and then taking his hands to tug him off the bed. “Go wash up. Come on, stinker.”

He let you push him around, handing him the toothbrush and a cup of water to drink once he was done washing up. You turned to give him some privacy to change, but his fingers just couldn’t seem to button his buttons right.

“These fuckin’ things—like they’re made of soap or something—”

With a light sigh, you rotated back around. “Come here, you big baby.” You straightened out his collar before slipping the buttons through their respective holes with ease. 

“Dad’s killing me. He’s cutting my fucking balls off.”

You watched him with a sympathetic gaze. “He won’t do that. He doesn’t see you as a threat.”

“That’s not the compliment you think it is.”

“I wasn’t trying to compliment you.”

Roman watched as you fastened together the last button for him, but you didn’t step away, staying close by him.

“If I was capable of any sudden movement, I would totally pounce on you right now. I like your shirt—is that a new shirt?”

“I’ve had it for four years,” you deadpanned.

“Hm. Old shirt. You should throw it out.” To his relief, you smiled at him.

Patting his cheek once, you asked, “Are you okay? How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know. I’m fucking terrible. But I should be asking you the same. Dad took a beating on the both of us.”

Memories of last night made your nose wrinkle in distaste. 

“I think everyone was just… caught up in the heat of the moment. I don’t think your dad meant everything he said.” He did, you knew he did.

Shaking his head, Roman slunk away to go put on his shoes. “He thinks I’m a moron. The worst of his seed, or whatever the fuck. How am I supposed to get him to take me seriously? Grow a mustache and read the Journal? I’ll fucking do it.”

“Don’t grow a mustache. You’ll look like you came straight out of a shitty European porno.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Ignoring him, you sat down beside the disorderly man, pulling on your own dress shoes and knotting together the laces, before helping him tie his, because his fingers suddenly decided not to work this morning. “Gerri told me I should convince you to go to management training. Because, you know—tada. Your only friend is one of the company’s head managers. Lucky you.”

“What, she and Dad want you to be my teacher? Sounds like a sexual fantasy to me.”

“It probably won’t be me. Might be a lower-level manager. But I’d come to visit! Get you in the spirit of things.”

Roman snorted. “Ugh. I don’t want to go back to classes. I’ll kill myself.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Let’s at least have some breakfast first.”

A week later, Roman was enrolled into the management training program, much to Gerri’s relief. She’d thanked you for convincing him, and you told her that it barely took any effort at all. Really, he just wanted to become better in his Dad’s eyes.

You were swamped with work as usual, occasionally checking your phone to see a long strings of texts from Roman, complaining and whining about the torture they were putting him through (they made him watch a video about ethical conduct in a workplace). 

When Roman called you the first time, you declined because you were in a meeting. You declined the second time as well, because you really had to concentrate on filling out important documents. By the time your phone rang again, you were in between tasks, and picked up with a grouchy, “What, Roman?”

“Yowza, who put that stick up your ass?” his voice came through. His high pitched laughter followed. “It’s fucking hell here. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Sorry,” you replied, pinching your brows. “It’s been terrible up here, too. I’ve got a lot of shit on my plate. This acquisition really isn’t helping.”

“Are you coming?” he asked.

Blinking, you shifted the phone in your palm. “Coming where? To your training?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Mmh, I’m sorry, Ro. I really would, but I’m just up to my head with work. But I’m proud of you! Really, I am.”

“Oh, you are? Fuck you,” he snapped.

You took no offense to his bitterness. “Fuck you back. This is good, what you’re doing, Romeo.”

“Yeah, I know—I’m gonna grow up to be a real little boy and learn the price of an egg, and do… phone sex with my girlfriend like a normo.”

Laughing, you knocked your head back with a grin. “Y’know, phone sex is more kinky than anything. If you wanna be normal, you look her in the eyes during missionary sex and tell her you love her.”

“Pfft. Yeah, right. Do people actually do that? That sounds disgusting.”

“Yes, people actually do that. Have you ever considered that you’re the disgusting one?”

“Don’t be mean, this is my first day of training, you bitch.”

From his tone, you could tell he was smiling, too.

“Seems like you’ve been complaining to me more than actually paying attention.”

“I can’t help it. The videos are too fucking long. It’s like trying to teach Beethoven how to play hot cross buns on the piano.”

You laughed, and Roman felt a certain warmth pool in his chest.

“You can do it, Ro. I believe in you.”

“Thanks, mommy,” he teasingly replied. 

Your phone began to buzz with another call. “Ah—sorry, Rome, I gotta go. See you later, okay?”

Before he could say his grumpy goodbyes, you’d already hung up. To your surprise, your screen displayed the called ID of your godfather. Your palms suddenly grew clammy.

When you answered, his voice was soft and amicable—a stark contrast to what it was like in Hungary.

“Hello, dear. Hope you’re well.”

The rest of the call went surprisingly fine. Logan wanted you to go over to his office to run through some analytics and, apparently, he wanted to apologize to you in person. Mend the broken bridges, he had said. You weren’t entirely sure if there was another game he was playing at, but you couldn’t say no to him. He was your top boss, after all.

Just as you slipped through the glass doors with a hesitant smile, a loud bang sounded from somewhere on the floor. You flinched, eyes widening. 

A gunshot.

Terror wrapped its dark hands around you when security guards quickly took you by the arm, guiding you around bends and corners, before finally leading you into a panic room. Logan came in behind you, looking mildly distraught.

“Are you okay?” you asked, helping him sit down and giving him a loose hug. 

“Fine, fine. Where’s Siobhan? Kendall?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

When you felt down your pants for your phone, you let out a frustrated sigh when you couldn’t find it anywhere on you. You must’ve dropped it during all the commotion to get to the safe room. You settled into a seat across from Logan, watching the news on the television, your leg bouncing up and down with agitation. 

A few minutes later, Shiv showed up, embracing her dad with a chaste kiss. She gave you a hug as well, cheek pressing against yours. 

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“No, I don’t. Where’s Tom?”

She pulled away to call her husband, and you slumped back into your chair. 

Down on ground level, Roman was still in his training class, watching his partner begin to present his idea for a new ride, when a man burst through the doors, calling out Mr. Roy!

Well, there goes his chance to pretend to be a normo.

“Just in case you get a news alert on your phone, there’s been an incident at ATN.”

Roman’s brows quirked downwards. “Is my dad okay?”

“It’s been suggested that it could be a concerted attack against the family. Do you want us to take you to a more secure location?”

“Yeah, of course I want that—get me the fuck out of here!” The guard began ushering him out of the class, down the hall to a more ‘secure’ space, which was clearly just an inventory room. “So, uh, does an attack against the family include, like, godchildren, too? Or just, uh, direct blood-related shit?”

“I don’t know yet, sir. All we know so far is that there was a gunshot in the building.”

Panic began to settle in Roman’s chest. He fished out his phone from his pants and called you. No answer.

He texted you, over and over again.

Hey Fuckface You heard about this shooting bullshit? I thought they only went for schools nowadays. Answer me Bitch Right fucking now Can you pick up? Hello  Helloooooooooo 🖕 Hahaha funny joke! Now fucking pick up

It didn’t quite occur to Roman that he should probably call his siblings just yet. He was far too caught up with the idea of you lying on the ground somewhere, bleeding out to death. Certainly not a pleasant thought.

He called you again, and nearly threw his phone across the inventory—safe room when you didn’t pick up.

What the fuck Please answer me it’s not funny anymore If you’re dead I’ll kill you I’m being serious Hello? Please answer You can’t be dead it’s literally not possible

He called a third time, and there was no response. Growing increasingly worried, Roman finally called his twin sister, who responded after the second ring.

“Hey, Rome. You okay?”

“Yeah, whatever. Is Y/N okay?” he hurriedly asked, itching at the back of his neck.

“She’s fine. Here with me in the safe room. I’m fine too, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

“Fuck off, just put me on the phone with her!” 

A second later, your voice came through, and Roman nearly melted onto the floor in relief.

“Hello? Rome? Are you okay?”

“You fucking bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you were fucking dead! Why didn’t you answer any of my texts?”

If not for the situation at hand, you would’ve laughed at how worked up he sounded. “I lost my phone when the gunshot sounded out. Sorry, Ro. It happened so quickly. They’re saying it was a suicide. But I’m not really sure—Gerri’s filling me in.”

“So you’re, like, okay? Actually okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“Ugh, fuck you. Go to hell!” he barked into the phone, right before hanging up. 

You stood, still stunned, handing Shiv’s phone back to her with a quiet word of thanks. 

Curled up in the corner of the inventory room, Roman found out that he and Brian had won for best pitch for a ride in the class. He smiled a little, then followed out after his partner to make sure that he wasn’t fibbing.

“I slaughtered them, you know? Everyone in that fucking training class grovels at my feet now,” Roman told Tabitha on the phone. “They’re jealous! And that’s all there is to it. Anyways, um, how are you?”

“Good!” she told him. “I’m about to get in the bath.”

“Oh, yeah?” Roman took a long pause. “Uh, y’know, Y/N told me that phone sex is kinda… kinky. You wanna…?”

On the other side of the line, Tabitha smiled, putting her phone on speaker. “Mmh, alright. I’m making the bath real sudsy.”

“Is that because you’re dirty?”

“I am. I’m a dirty, dirty girl.”

“Yeah, you are. And I would love to fuck you.”

She laughed, light and airy. “I’m so wet for you right now.”

A long pause. Roman winced. “Uh, that’s not… well, you don’t have to be so specific.”

“I’m… being sexy?”

“Yeah, it’s just—could you not do that thing? With your voice? It’s, like, breathy and unnatural.”

Sucking in a frustrated lungful of air, Tabitha shook her head. “That’s what I sound like when I’m turned on, Roman.”

“I know, I just… I don’t like it, so—” He made his way to the bed and laid down. “Let’s just be normal. Let’s be normal. Casual.”

“Normal? Okay, I was just trying to get into it but…”

“No, I’m sorry, yeah, you’re right.” He cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice. “Um, I’m fucking you in the pussy. I’m fucking you hard.”

Tabitha pursed her lips. “Amazing. What are you gonna do next, change your water filter cartridge?”

Rolling his eyes, Roman sighed out, exasperated, “Jesus fucking Christ—oh, look at that, I’m coming! I’m coming! Ah, wow, I came! Thank you! Hooray! Bye.”

Abruptly, he hung up, not unsimilar to what he did to you earlier to you in the day. Guilt suddenly flushed through him—he probably should give you a call. Say he’s sorry.

It only took one ring for you to pick up, and he could tell that you were smiling on the other end. “Hey, Romeo. Didn’t think you had the emotional capacity to talk to me after thinking I was dead.”

Roman rubbed his left eye. “Fuck you. So are you, uh, okay?”

“You already asked me that, Rome.”

“No, like—mentally or whatever. Must’ve been scary. Ooh.” He made a ghost-esque noise, but cringed upon realizing that that probably wasn’t appropriate.

Nonetheless, you scoffed through the phone. “It was jarring, but I’ll be okay. How’d training go?”

“I mean, it’s fuckin’ bullshit but I won the stupid ride pitch thing. They should have it built.”

There was some rustling of sheets. Roman wondered if you were clambering into bed. He wondered what you were wearing. 

“You really think they’ll build you the ride after your first day in management training? Don’t be stupid.”

“I’ve got money. They’ll build whatever I want them to fuckin’ build.”

“You know who you sound like? Like Joffrey Baratheon, from that show I made you watch. The one you never paid attention to unless there was a pair of tits on screen. Spoiled little shits, the both of you.” 

With an affronted gasp, he said, “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m technically your boss.”

You giggled. “Don’t pull the boss card on me, Roman. You’ve slept in my bed more times than in your own. That’s fucking… that’s like power play, right there.”

“Yeah?” Roman could feel a rush of blood go straight to his dick, which began to strain against his pants. “D’you think we’d get in trouble if we ever…”

There was a long moment of silence. Static filled in Roman’s ears.

“If we what, Roman?” you asked, voice quiet. 

Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Roman blurted out, “I tried the fuckin’ normie phone sex with Tabitha.”

“And?”

“She got turned on.”

“Uh, congratulations?”

“I didn’t like it.”

“Oh. Why not? You like your sex dirtier? Wrong?” You began to chuckle, but it tapered away when Roman went silent on the other end of the phone. More rustling blankets. “Oh, fuck, Roman. You’re an idiot, you know that?”

You could hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. 

“What else am I?” His voice was breathy. Whiny, almost.

“This is wrong, Romeo. I can’t… you’re dating Tabitha, remember?”

“Just keep—keep talking.” When his hand wrapped around his hard dick, weeping with pearly precum, Roman wondered if he’d bust his nut right then and there.

After a few seconds of silence, you tentatively continued, “You’re disgusting, Rome. What’s wrong with you? Touching yourself to my voice when your girlfriend was left high and dry for you.”

He began to stroke himself, eyes fluttering shut. A strained moan fell from his lips. Neither of you had ever ventured this into this territory in your relationship before. Sure, sexual jokes were always passed back and forth between the two of you but this was—this was real. Wasn’t it?

“Mmh, I don’t want you to cum yet, Ro.” You clutched the phone close to your ear. 

A choked noise emitted from his throat. “I can’t—I can’t hold it—”

“Hold it.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to cum with you.” More rustling on the other end as you kicked your pants and underwear down, dragging your finger around your clit. 

This seemed to send Roman into another fit of whines—the thought of you fucking yourself on your own fingers to him made his mind go all hazy. 

“Romey, tell me,” you whispered. “Out of all those times we slept in the same bed together—did you ever imagine fucking me while I was asleep? Like a sick little pervert?”

A groan climbed up the back of Roman’s throat. His pace slowed down, trying his best not to cum prematurely. “Yes, all the fucking time. Yes—” His words died on his tongue as he moaned again, and again, and again—

“God, Ro.” You stifled a gasp when you plunged two fingers into your throbbing cunt. It’d been a long while since you’d had the time to touch yourself—it was no surprise that you were already on the brink of an orgasm. “Have you touched yourself to me before? I’m sure you have. You sick fuck.”

The vein in Roman’s forehead popped as he bucked his hips into his fist. “Fuck, yes! Yes, please, Y/N, please—”

“Please, what?” You moaned yourself, grinding into your palm. “You wanna cum, baby? I wanna hear you make a mess of yourself. Like the dirty fucking pervert you are.”

With those words, Roman toppled off the edge, spurts of warm cum dribbling from his throbbing cock, soaking his fist with its sticky mess. He fucked himself through his high, whining with overstimulation at the sound of your own choked sighs.

Breathily, he whimpered, “What else? Please, what else? What would you do if you were here with me?”

“Mmh, if I was there, I’d make you lick your cum off of me. I’d ride your face until you pass out—oh!”

A creak of the bed as you arched your back, crying out his name, cresting over the peak yourself. 

More silence. Labored breaths.

You swallowed heavily, skin glowing with a faint sheen of sweat. The haze of your orgasm was beginning to dissipate, and you were coming back to your own senses. “Fuck—I’m sorry, Ro. I don’t... I don’t think we should’ve done that.”

He blew out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, we shouldn’t have.” His chest rose and fell unevenly. “But it was fucking amazing.”

“It was.” You ran your tongue along your teeth in thought. “I’m gonna go, uhm, clean myself up, Ro. G’night.”

“Mmh. Night.”

“This doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still best friends?”

Roman screwed his lips up to the side. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Totally. BFFs for liferz, or whatever cheesy fucking bullshit you need to hear.”

You scoffed. Things would be okay with the two of you. They always worked out in the end. “See you soon, slut.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Romeo.”

“Mmkay, bye, fuck-face.” 

With that, the call ended.

Weeks later, the Roy family was to spend the weekend with the Pierces at their family estate. You figured the reason why Logan had called you to his office right before the suicide was because he wanted you to come along and play mediator—the Pierces were a rather articulate and fanciful family. According to your godfather, they aligned much more with your and Shiv’s politics than his. It reminded you how you were nothing but a pawn on the chessboard for him to maneuver. 

Regardless, you knew you couldn’t say no. Even though he knew you didn’t support the Pierce acquisition, you were a valuable asset and that could potentially be beneficial for both parties. Besides, the Pierces were a powerful family. Having them as allies would be good for you.

You were lounging on the couch beside Shiv and Tabitha when Roman strode into his father’s house, bowing down dramatically.

“How was summer camp?” she teased her twin. 

“Hm? What’s that? Didn’t catch what you said. I’ve been down in the salt mines for so long with my fellow Johnny Lunchpails, I no longer speak One-Percent,” he said when he bent down to kiss Tab’s cheek.

Snorting, Shiv retorted, “You were slinging candy apples, Rome, not digging the Panama Canal.”

“I’ve seen the world for how it really is, Siobhan, and it has changed me! I’m a kettle corn shoveler, here to show you frilly clit-flickers the truth. Hullo, Y/N. You look lovely.” He patted your cheek thrice, and you swatted his hand away before the fourth. A part of you had been worrying for the past few days about your relationship with Roman. Would things change after what had happened over the phone? Or was it all just… no big deal?

To your relief, the two of you seemed to be just the same as before. 

“Hey, Rome. Nice to see you’ve been so… humbled. Tell me, if I were to ask you to do my laundry, would you know how?”

Tabitha cracked up at your words and she nudged at your knee humorously. 

Roman rolled his eyes, muttering something about how he wouldn’t want to touch your tighty whities anyway, and scuttled off to greet Marcia and Connor. Only then did Logan come in, Kendall in tow. His little meat puppet.

“Alright. Cars are waiting—but first, some announcements. Frank, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Logan’s right-hand man stepped forward to address the group. “As you all know, the good news is that the Pierces are entertaining our offer, but bad news—they’re inquiring about your moral character, hence this weekend.”

“They want to look us in the teeth,” gruffed Logan.

Frank nodded. “Right. They want our 24 billion, but they also want to be able to ensure the integrity of their news outlets into the future.”

“Mmh, to ensure everything goes smoothly, we’ve prepared a few do’s and don’ts for the weekend,” said Gerri, pointedly staring at Roman. “Topics to stay clear of: Ravenhead, ATN, Israel, Brightstar, and the Cruise’s rumor mill. Steer onto: gossip, investments, art, movies, literature… tittle-tattle. Wider cultural interests.”

“Oh, and two drinks maximum,” Frank added. “They’re not big drinkers.”

Tilting his head, Roman drawled, “That’s okay. Nobody here has any glaring substance abuse issues that almost brought down the company, right?” He lolled his head over to Kendall, shooting him a wink.

Logan went through a few more details about Tom and ATN and Rhea, which certainly raised a few apprehensions. 

“Thanks for all your help,” said Logan. For a moment, his eyes landed on you. You wondered if he had considered that you’d purposefully sabotage this weekend to stop the deal from going through. Or maybe he knew you were his loyal lapdog, no matter how far he kicked you. Or maybe he simply wanted you there for diversity points. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. “We need this. Bagging Pierce is the key to our proxy defense. And the defense is life itself. See you at Plymouth Rock.”

Once the helicopters landed onto Pierce's land and everyone was filed out into the vast green fields, Logan turned to his group and gestured for them to smile. He’d even gone out of his way to brush a stray piece of lint off of your coat for you whilst passing by. 

“I am smiling!” Roman haughtily protested when his father gave him a pointed glare.

“Yeah, not like a pervert,” said Shiv.

You grinned, laughing out, “That’s just how he looks, Shiv.”

“Hardee-har-har,” Roman spat out. Then, he watched as Logan linked arms with both Marcia and Shiv. “Wow, Jesus. Look at Papa Smurf. Should I be doing that with you guys?”

Both you and Tabitha glanced at each other, before walking onwards, flat out ignoring Roman. 

The Pierce family was waiting not too far from the helicopters, greeting everyone with apprehensive yet kind smiles. 

The woman who spoke had soft eyes and a round face. Not at all intimidating in stature, but you knew better than to judge a book by its cover. “Welcome to Ternhaven! Our city on the hill. I’m Nan Pierce—it’s nice to meet all of you. I think we’re going to have fun getting a look at all of you, won’t we?”

Both families drew nearer as everybody exchanged polite greetings. You shook hands with about half a dozen people, trying your best to keep up with names and faces. Once at the estate, someone had taken off your coat and offered you a glass of water before you’d even taken three steps inside. 

It was certainly a beautiful home. It felt more lived-in than Logan’s houses, with its abundance of paintings and framed pictures on the walls. The furniture was warmer and cozier—a stark contrast to Logan’s preference for sharp edges and monochrome colors.

Roman came up to your side and pointed at a Latin phrase inscribed into the archway. 

“In veritate triumpho,” he read aloud. “This wine is triumphant? No—your vagina trumpets!”

Passing by, Gerri sharply hushed him just as your shoulders began to shake with mirth.

“I triumph in the truth,” you told him. 

“Honesty is the best policy around here,” said a dark-haired man, appearing from seemingly nowhere. You heard Roman mutter Jesus H. Christ, beneath his breath, but you discreetly pinched his side before he could say anything else. You faintly recognized the man as Peter Pierce—a cousin of Nan. He’d been overly enthusiastic with his handshake, watching you with gleaming curiosity, complimenting you on your outfit. 

You weren’t blind. You knew attraction when you saw it—and Peter wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it.

“So… where’d you learn Latin?”

“Self taught,” you told him, smiling politely. “I’m not fluent. I just know a few bits and bobs here and there. Tried to learn during my college years.”

Before Peter could respond, Roman motioned gagging. “Barf. I’m gonna go see who Tabs is flirting with. See you nerds later.”

He slipped away, leaving you alone with Peter, much to your chagrin. 

The man was nice enough, sure, but he was being very obvious with the way his gaze lingered a tad too long on your chest. And when it wasn’t there, he was ogling your lips. It was a bit unnerving. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, you know,” said Peter, arms crossed. 

“And I know next to nothing about you,” you airily responded, trying your best to keep your smile natural, though it proved increasingly difficult with each passing second.

“Well, that can be remedied, no?” he asked. 

You internally cursed at his forwardness. “Sure, yeah. Sounds great.”

And off he chattered, prattling on about his time with his company and what he studied during university, occasionally asking for your experiences as well. You only paid him half a mind, keeping the other occupied with observations of everybody else in the room. How Shiv had somehow managed to insult someone already, how Connor was talking about his presidential campaign with someone who so clearly didn’t agree with his views, and how Roman was guffawing at something Naomi and Tabitha were discussing.

“And what about the tabloids on you?”

“I’m sorry?” you asked, snapping your attention back onto Peter. 

“The tabloids about you and Roman. A lot of them discuss the two of you as a pair.”

Shrugging one of your shoulders, you shook your head. “Those are just baseless rumors.” You thought back to how you and Roman jerked off to each other through the phone. Not baseless at all, it seemed. “Roman and I are friends.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

Peter smiled. A part of you felt bad for stringing him along in such a way. He seemed like a nice enough guy, if you didn’t count all the uncomfortable ogling. “I just feel like we have a connection, you know? Do you feel it, too?”

“Mmh. Yeah, I’m feeling it.” You chanced a glance to Roman, who was staring straight at you with an impish grin. He saw right through your little facade—he knew you were miserable, and he was enjoying the shit out of it.

“That’s so good to hear. I knew you were different the moment I set eyes on you.”

“Wow. You really do have a way with words. Edgar Allen Poe up in here,” you joked loosely, trying your best not to sound deadpan. 

“You like Edgar Allen Poe, too? God, you’re like—fricking perfect for me. Excuse my French.” To your horror, Peter reached out to clasp your shoulder, steering you to a more quiet part of the room. “Tell me more about yourself. Things I don’t already know from the tabloids. What was it like growing up around the Roys?”

They were more of your family than your actual parents. They were the bane of your existence. They were everything to you. 

Before you could vocalize any of your thoughts (or, some poor, watered-down rendition of them), Logan shepherded the Waystar side of the group into another room for a short, private talk. You let out a long sigh as soon as you were far away enough from Peter, feeling your muscles loosen up. God, that man really did make you stiff in all the worst ways. 

“I think it’s going pretty well,” Roman said once everyone began filing through the door. “I mean, nobody’s fucked Nan or killed her cat by accident, so I think we’re doing pretty good.”

It seemed Logan didn’t quite agree, because he stormed up to his daughter, angrily demanding, “What the fuck did you say to Mark? Making cracks about his PhD?”

“It was a joke! He laughed.”

Frowning, Logan continued on, “He’s a yes, Shiv. He’s solid. Why are you even bothering him?”

The group began to then argue about Maxim, who Connor was supposed to persuade into the yes territory of the acquisition—which he was clearly failing.

“Cut the horseshit, know your roles!” barked your godfather. “Shiv, I want you on Nan.”

“Okay, Dad, we don’t have to be so schematic,” she protested, but her words went largely ignored.

Logan rounded on Roman, standing beside you. “Romulus. When you laugh, please do it at the same volume as everyone else. We didn’t get you from a hyena farm.”

“Thanks, Pop,” said Roman. You frowned, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

“The good news is that Nan seems to be spending money in her head—but she could still be swayed by her family, so every cousin counts,” Gerri added.

“Everybody, stay in your lanes. Who’s on Peter?” asked Logan.

“I got it, Dad,” said Kendall.

Quirking a brow, Frank said, “Actually, Peter seems to be rather taken by Y/N. I think it’s a good idea for her to keep him entertained. He’s worried the rest of us are barbarians.”

You crossed your arms uncomfortably, but nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

“Pimp her out, why don’t you,” scoffed Roman. 

“Good. Everyone got their person? Let’s go, people. Stay focused, stay sharp!” barked Logan, and everyone began to pour out of the room at his dismissal. 

Roman clapped a hand on your forearm. “Hey, uh, if Prickly Pete there does anything—” He made an unintelligible noise while pulling a sour face. “You know the drill. Stop, drop, and roll.”

“That’s for a fire, Ro.”

“Yeah, but it’ll freak him out enough to leave you alone.”

You spared him a sarcastic smile, shaking your head. “Great advice. Thanks.”

“No, but seriously—just say you have to go to the bathroom or something. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“Okay, Sauron,” you chuckled, shoving him away. “Go. Go and use your wily charms to seduce Naomi into making a terrible decision.”

It was his turn to offer you a lopsided grin. “That’s what I’m best at. Influencing women into years of regret.” With a click of his tongue and a wink, he was off.

 When you turned around, Peter was already waiting for you with an expectant expression. Ugh.

This was going to be a long weekend.

The Pierces were a strange family. Who the fuck recited poetry as grace before dinner? Nonetheless, you clapped with a polite smile once Naomi was done with her little poem. Roman rolled his eyes none too discreetly and you kicked at his leg beneath the table. 

On your other side, Peter didn’t hesitate to dive into yet another lengthy conversation once everybody began eating. 

“I like to have three novels and a memoir going at once,” said the man with a flirtatious smile. “It’s like natural selection.”

You forced a laugh—one that sounded genuine to everyone but the Roys, who knew you well enough by now to know that you weren’t amused at all. 

“Hm. I think it’s rather redundant to pit literature against each other in such a competitive fashion. Art is art is art, no?” you responded, quirking a brow as you forked a portion of salad onto your plate. 

You’d hoped that your comment would deter Peter from talking more, but your challenge seemed to only invigorate him. 

“A bit of healthy competition in a given field never hurt anyone. Pushes people to create better things,” he said, leaning closer to you.

“Mm, well, respectfully, I disagree. I think art—literature, especially—can blossom organically, just for the sake of it. The idea that creativity flourishes under competition is, frankly, just capitalist propaganda,” you said. 

To your dismay, Peter tilted his head and quipped, “Isn’t that a bit ironic, coming from you? Goddaughter of one of the richest men in the world?”

Your eye twitched. Beneath the table, Roman nudged your foot. 

“It doesn’t matter who I am. My point still stands, no?”

“I suppose we can just agree to disagree. I still enjoy reading several pieces at once… maximum efficiency, right?”

Another fake laugh.

To your surprise, Roman swooped into the conversation, “Yeah, I hear you, brother!” he chirped, trying his best to sound like an intellectual normie—he wasn’t doing a very good job, so far.

Peter spared him a glance, which made him lean even closer to you. “Are you a big reader?”

“Me? Oh. Yeah, big time.” No, he wasn’t. Roman couldn’t even remember the last time he picked up a book and read past the first page. 

“Can you recommend anything Oprah isn’t pushing? Any new fiction?”

For a moment, Roman’s panicked eyes met your goading ones. He began to laugh, but cleared his throat when he realized that Peter was genuinely asking. 

“Oh, right, yeah, sure I can… I, uh, rather enjoyed The Electric Circus.” 

“The Electric Circus?” echoed Peter in a rather pretentious manner. “Who’s the author?”

“Oh, uh, shit! Who was it… it was uh, Timothy Lipton. Yup. That’s him.” Roman was a terrible liar. You were getting second-hand embarrassment just listening to him. 

Catching wind of her brother fumbling, Shiv asked, “Yeah? What’s it about, Rome?”

“Uh, it is… about a young man making his way through the world. Except in two different time periods, so it kinda switches back and forth between—uh, yup! And—and the circus part is like, you know, a metaphor.”

Shiv narrowed her eyes. “For what?”

“Ugh. For the anxiety of modern life, Siobhan.” Roman only ever called his sister that when he tried to provoke her, or when he was exasperated with her antics. “Ask Y/N. She read the book. Ask her.”

Incredulous, you swung your gaze from your food to him, brows pulling together.

“You’ve read The Electric Circus?” asked Peter. His phone was in his palms. “I’m not seeing it on Google… Are you sure that’s what it was called?”

You began to fumble with your words, internally cursing Roman for throwing you under the bus, as well. God, he was going to owe you a million favors from now on. 

“See, uhm, it was a private little thing, uh—it hasn’t been published yet, exactly. Roman and I were just, you know, we were given the pages because we, uh, we were thinking of funding the novel ourselves! So, yeah… I don’t know why Roman would go and recommend that to you when it isn’t even available to the public yet.” You spared Peter a sweet smile whilst simultaneously stomping on Roman’s toes beneath the table. He retaliated by pinching your thigh.

“Oh. I see. Maybe when it comes out we can talk about it over a cup of coffee, then.”

Roman snorted. You sent him a half-hearted glare.

“Sure. That’d be great,” you told him before the man-child on your other side could come up with a rude retort.

Thankfully, Peter was quick to move on to another topic. Something about how mediocre the movies have been getting as of late. What an asshole. 

The conversation was cut off not too soon later by the white nationalist elephant in the room, as Rhea had so eloquently put it—ATN. Logan had vehemently denied sharing their fascistic beliefs, though the Pierces were clearly still skeptical of your godfather. Hell, even you were. 

There was more tense silence when Logan was questioned on whether or not Tom would stay on as head of ATN. The matter was never resolved, as he excused himself with a lame excuse of his sick dog having arthritis, pulling Shiv out of the room with him. 

You and Roman exchanged confused looks. 

By the time they came back, Tabitha was telling one of the Pierces about her willingness to help out her friend. “I’m thinking, like, if they can’t have a baby in six months, I’m just going to offer them my womb. Why not, you know? I’m young, I’m hardy.”

“Wow, Tabs, that’s really nice of you,” you told her genuinely, sipping on some water.

“Good for you,” agreed Marnie Pierce. “I had a friend who did that, it was so great—”

And then there Peter went, butting his fat head into the conversation where it was clearly not needed. “Uh, but if it isn’t too rude of me to ask, what about you two?” He gestured to Roman and Tabitha.

The blonde woman chuckled. “Oh, you mean us planning to have a baby? No, we’re not planning for a baby, because that would require us having sex!”

“Woah!” exclaimed Roman. “Hey, now.”

Peter grimaced. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Yes, you did,” said Marnie, and Peter only shrugged sheepishly.

“No, no, no, it’s totally fine, it’s just not our thing,” Tabitha replied. “We’re kinda like eunuch besties. It works for us.”

Scratching the back of his head, Roman cleared his throat. “She’s joking. Obviously. She’s kidding. We’re actually quite relentless in that regard. Just… fuck city out here.” 

You almost choked on the water you’d been sipping, the memories of a certain call you had with Roman resurfacing to the forefront of your mind. 

“You okay, Y/N?” Peter asked, lightly patting your back. 

“Fine. Just down the wrong pipe,” you winced. “And, you know, the idea of Roman and Tabs going to pound town doesn’t exactly whet my appetite.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” said Roman. “It’s unbecoming.”

Before you could snip back, the table fell quiet when Nan Pierce asked who would be taking on the company after Logan. Your godfather purposefully skirted around the topic, evading a solid name entirely.

Then, Shiv made the terrible mistake of announcing herself as the next CEO.

“Wait, uh, what’s happening?” Peter queried.

“Mmh. I think my life just ended,” Roman responded, looking every bit as shocked as you.

More flubbering from both Logan and Shiv. They were fucking themselves over, you could just feel it.

“You know what, maybe this dinner was a little bit premature. Seems like you guys are still working some things out,” said Peter. 

“No, uh, this is just some family hijinks,” Kendall tried to protest.

Marcia leaned in closer to Logan to ask, “Is this true?”

That seemed to be the last straw for him, because he yelled out, “Will you stop?”

More tense silence. Your foot rested over Roman’s, which was bouncing up and down rapidly beneath your heel. His hand rested on your knee, gripping a tad too tight.

“Well. I was just thinking that it’s such a beautiful, clear night out. Mark—would you like to guide us on a little after-dinner stargaze?” Nan asked.

And with that, came the end of the dinner.

“Did you guys know?” Tabitha asked both you and Roman as the three of you pushed away from the table to head outside. 

“No. No, I didn’t,” said Roman, still in shock.

You had a feeling, sure—there was no way it’d be Connor. Not Kendall, because of his recent endeavors with trying to take over the company, along with his substance abuse. It was between Roman and Shiv, and it didn’t take a genius to see that Logan didn’t think his youngest son was all that competent. That left only Shiv, after all.

“I didn’t know,” you simply said. 

The three of you strode out, leaving only Shiv and Logan left in the dining room.

“Those stars were really nice,” Tabitha said, lounging on the bed as Roman aggressively rummaged through the luggage in search of his toothbrush.

He was growing increasingly agitated about the idea of Shiv taking over the company, channeling his frustrations out on the poor suitcase for not presenting him his toothbrush on a golden pedestal. With a groan and a hand carding through his hair, Roman kicked at its side, sending the bag skidding against the wall.

“Ro,” Tabitha called. “I have a meeting on Monday, and I’d really love to deal with your neuroses and talk about it and everything but, uh, if you’re gonna lose your mind in here, I might just see if Naomi would let me crash in her bed.”

The man pulled on his face. He hummed once, then twice, as if he was deliberating over something.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s fuck.”

A disbelieving smile danced across her face. She thought he was full of shit. “Yeah, totally. We do the sex so well, so that’s a brilliant idea.”

Clenching his jaw, Roman clambered onto the bed. “Alright. Come on. Come here, you hot fucking piece of shit.”

He tried kissing her, but his nose knocked into hers the wrong way, his hand gripped at her shoulder at an awkward angle, and his lips fell onto only the upper corner of her mouth, barely even counting as a kiss. 

“Woah, easy there, wolfman!” She burst into a fit of laughter, and Roman pulled away with a string of insecure apologies, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, which throbbed from the impact. 

“That was awesome,” he bit out, lying face-down on the bed next to her. “I’m so fucking good at this. Sorry.”

“Yeah, you were, like, squeezing my shoulder really fucking hard—”

“Wasn’t that sexy? How I just took you? Bet you orgasmed like five times in a row.” Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Do you want to, though? Like actually?”

She smiled. “Mmkay. Do I want to…? Make love?”

He frowned. “Nope. Wow. I just—” A groan and a sigh.

Features softening, Tabitha reached out to rub at Roman’s back. “Hey. I’m not… uninterested in solving you.”

Roman turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we can make it, like… I don’t know… wrong?”

Tabitha was supposed to be dead. Which—and Roman thought this was quite obvious—meant that she wasn’t supposed to be wet. Now, there were a million and one ways for them to have sex and have it be wrong (like how it felt with you, maybe), but he’d suggested for her to play dead because… well, because he didn’t want it to feel like he was having sex with her. 

The very thought of fucking Tabitha didn’t sit quite right with him. He liked her a lot, and she was fucking hot as shit, but Roman just… couldn’t. He just couldn’t! Maybe she was right. Maybe they were better off as eunuch besties.

And so it came as no shock to both parties when the dead woman sex didn’t end up working out. Tabitha murmured that the morgue was closing for the night—and that she’d go wank off in the bathroom with her electric toothbrush as a makeshift vibrator. Roman apologized to her again, and curled up in the middle of the bed.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have sex with his girlfriend, like any other fucking person would?

After five minutes of wallowing in his own shame, Roman dragged himself off the bed and did what he knew how to do best: he ran straight to you.

When there was a knock at your door, you were ninety percent sure it was Roman. The other, more terrified, ten percent anxiously wondered if it was Sleazy Pete coming to talk your ear off some more about the latest developments in artificial intelligence. 

To your relief, it was Roman, clad in a loose white shirt and soft, dark pants. 

“Hey, Romeo,” you greeted, pulling him in and glancing out the hallway, making sure nobody was around to see. “Man, am I glad to see you. I was really scared you were somebody else.”

He made a high-pitched, humorous noise, crossing his arms as you softly shut the door closed. “Peter? Oh, no. He’s too high and mighty to come chasing after you so early. He’s the kind to date the same person for ten years, accidentally cum inside one time and knock them up, which then keeps them chained to his side for the rest of his life. You’re good for now.”

“For now?” You were ready to make another quippy retort, when you noticed the way Roman scuffed his bare feet into the carpet, hand scratching at the back of his head. Something was bugging him. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Huh? Nothing happened. Fuck off.”

Biting at the inside of your cheek, you reached out to him, holding both his hands within yours. “Rome.”

He parroted your name in an equally emphatic manner. 

You sat down on the bed, steering him to sit beside you. “Is this about Shiv?”

Oh. Right. He’d been so caught up with his guilt and shame over Tabitha that he’d momentarily forgotten about that other part of his life that was just majorly fucked over. 

Roman shrugged. “She fucked up bad, huh?”

You laid down, which prompted him to follow you, his head leaning on your shoulder. The two of you stared up at the ceiling together. 

“We all make mistakes. I think your dad probably led her on with a carrot painted with faux gold. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your long-time friend made a noise of agreement. 

Comfortable silence stretched thinly between the two of you. Roman faintly noticed that your hair was damp—you’d probably taken a shower after the walk. After inhaling sharply, he caught a whiff of your body spray: sweeter than fucking cotton candy and it almost made him want to puke. Key word being almost—Roman rather liked the smell. Especially on you.

“You smell good.”

“Mmh. Thanks.”

You arched your back, bones popping with your movement as you mumbled under your breath sleepily. Something within Roman stirred. 

“I tried to have sex with Tabitha.”

Suddenly, you weren’t all that sleepy anymore. “Oh? How’d it go?”

“I…” Roman winced. Saying it out loud made it sound so much worse, for some reason. “I pretended she was dead.”

“What?” There was a mildly shocked laugh to your tone.

“Consensually!” he vehemently tacked on. “But, you know, she was fuckin’ dripping for me, so… took the experience away, I guess. I don’t know. I like her a lot. I just don’t… I don’t…”

“You don’t want to have sex with her?”

Another shrug. Roman blew out a drawn-out exhale. “Yeah. I dunno.”

“That’s okay, Rome. You don’t need to have sex if you don’t want to, and you shouldn’t feel bad about not wanting it. That’s literally the definition of consent.”

A part of Roman seemed to melt with your words. Your affirmation that there wasn’t something wrong with him (or, at least that one trait of his, he knew there were several other parts of him that you’d consider highly immoral) relieved him more than he’d care to admit.

“Well… I do want it. I just don’t want it with her, maybe?” His voice went all soft yet high-pitched at the end of the question.

Suddenly, you turned your head to him, your nose only a hair’s breadth away from his. 

“Well, Ro,” you began, husky and low, “who would you want it with?”

He didn’t need to say it. You knew already.

“Who do you want to touch you?” you murmured, hand reaching out to skim over his chest, his stomach, grazing over the very top of his pants and toying with the band of his boxers. “Who do you want to make you feel good, Romeo?”

A low whine caught within his throat when you leaned forward to kiss up the column of his throat, nipping at the skin lightly. All of his sanity seemed to fly straight out the window when your hand dipped within his boxer, tugging out his semi-hard cock, languidly stroking along the length. He moaned, chest rumbling with the sound.

Your eyelids hung low as you nosed along his jaw, which strained with how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Mmh, you’re a dirty little pervert, aren’t you? Sneaking away from your girlfriend to rut your pretty cock against me. You’re a mess and I’ve barely even touched you, Rome.”

It’d been so long. So fucking long since someone touched him this way. Since he’d let someone touch him like this. Since he wanted someone to touch him like this. It was all you. Just you, and only you.

And so, it was no wonder that he was nearing his orgasm already, twitching within your grasp as he whined louder. He murmured unintelligibly, pleading for something he didn’t yet know. 

“Can you be a good boy and cum for me?” you susurrated, planting kisses over his jaw, his cheek, the bridge of his nose. You didn’t dare kiss him on the lips—you weren’t quite sure if that would be too far for your peculiar relationship. 

When he came, a loud groan erupted from his throat, which was quickly muffled when you clapped a palm over his mouth, his eyes flew open to meet yours, pupils fully blown, almost eclipsing the molten brown of his irises. You stroked him through his orgasm, murmuring a mixture of degradations and praises all the way.

You pulled back when he began to jerk his hips away with overstimulation, panting against your palm. The sticky spend on your hand glistened beneath the lamp’s warm-hued light, and you brought it up to your face to kitten-lick his cum off his fingers, humming in satisfaction. The sight nearly made Roman pass out. He swallowed hard, propping himself up on the bed on an elbow.

Voice hoarse, he croaked out, “Thanks. Do you, uh… do you need…”

Yes. You wanted it so badly—you wanted him. 

But you knew Roman wasn’t really in the right mindspace to reciprocate anything at the moment. And the guilt that weighed heavy in your stomach would’ve only been worsened if you’d pressured him into anything that he might’ve been uncomfortable with. 

Baby steps. The two of you had been taking baby steps in your relationship ever since you were, well… babies.

“I’m fine, Rome,” you told him, ignoring the drenched throbbing between your thighs and crawling up next to him to lay down. “You can repay me in the future.”

The haze from his orgasm was beginning to clear away. Roman’s nose buried into your sweet-smelling hair. “With, like, a fuckin’ Baskin Robbins coupon or my tongue up your vagina?”

A soft laugh and a shake of your head. “Both sound wonderful,” you told him, curling up into his warmth. A wave of sleepiness overtook you. It’d been a really long day. “Night, Rome.”

“Night, fuck-face.” 

You might’ve simply hallucinated it in your sleep-addled mind, but you could feel a faint brush of lips on your forehead, along with a whisper of thanks. You fell asleep with a smile on your face that night. Roman had taken a picture (with the flash on, which made for quite unflattering lighting) and sent it to you the next morning, giggling his amusing hyena-giggle while the two of you were in the bathroom—with you brushing your teeth and him perched up on the toilet seat lid. It was a tender moment of picturesque domesticism—a life that didn’t quite seem right for the two of you, unless it was with each other.

The rest of the weekend at the Pierce’s estate was uneventful. Everybody had gone home thinking the deal wasn’t going to go through—Shiv had told you her dad fucked everything by refusing to name her as the next CEO.

But, to everyone’s surprise except Logan’s, Nan Pierce ended up calling only a few hours later that she’d sell. You weren’t quite happy with the turn of events, but you supposed that’s just how it was with Logan. 

He always won.

Argestes, a business conference for important folk all over the world, was just under a month later. It was a rather prestigious event, the itinerary always decked with the most ludicrously rich and fanciful activities, with only limited invites handed out. 

This was to be your sixth annual year attending. 

You arrived with Roman practically draped over you, much to the press’ delight. After he made a snide comment about how manipulative you could be when it came to business, you bid him adieu, off to fraternize and mingle with potential allies you might need in your pocket. You were just grateful not to bump into Peter Pierce—the last thing you wanted to do was have him glued to your side for the rest of the weekend. 

The next day, when you’d just barely stepped out of your room, you got a frantic text from Roman. It was a link to a journal article about the cruise incidents, followed by a series of question marks and an indiscernible mash of emojis. The last text gave you the room he and his family were in. 

You rushed off to meet them there, checking your constantly buzzing phone along the way to see texts fly from dozens of people: Shiv, Gerri, your colleagues, your friends, your coworkers alike. This wasn’t a good look for the company, that was for sure. 

When you finally got there, Roman quirked a brow at you. “Have you read this? Tell me this isn’t the greyest shit you’ve ever read.”

“Give me a second, I’ve barely even woken up, much less had time to read the article.” You settled in beside him, opening up the link to begin reading. From across the room, Logan was skimming through a physical copy, glasses on the very tip of his nose as he mumbled under his breath. Shiv was on the other end, waiting for everyone to finish reading. 

Finally, you reached the end of the article, slumping back with furrowed brows. “This is, uhm, serious stuff but it’s also really unclear what’s actually being thrown at the wall here.”

“Maybe this, maybe that bullshit,” Roman uttered.

“Rome, careful,” said Kendall.

“Is this one of those things I need a woman to explain to me why it’s bad?” His head knocked into yours. “You tell me—is it bad?”

Offering him a shrug, you huffed out a sigh and scrolled all the way back up to read it again. “It’s bad, it’s fucking awful someone had to go through this—but in all honesty, I expected far worse for a journal article to blow up this much.”

Growing frustrated, Logan ripped his glasses off. “What’s the protein?”

A man you only faintly recalled as Hugo Baker, part of the Parks and Cruises sector, replied, “They found a woman, Keerson. She was working the cruises back in the mid nineties, and name-checked Lester McClintock.”

Gerri nodded. “She says Uncle Mo asked for sex with her and the other dancers to get their contracts renewed.”

“So they fucked?” Logan asked.

“It says sexual exploitation,” clarified Shiv.

“Said subject of the article is dead,” you chimed in. “So the blame on Mo will effectively be shifted onto Waystar. Negligence of ethical conduct, cruise malpractice, so on and so forth.”

A moment of silence filled the room.

“Well, what can we do about it?” Roman queried. 

Gerri said, “There’s not a lot of specifics. It’s not detailed. Cold hard facts: it’s one woman in the nineties, not twenty women four years ago.”

This made Kendall’s face sour, as he pulled the bill of his cap down lower over his face. “Great. I’m glad we’re so good at doing victim math.”

“Yeah, well, Gerri’s just saying it doesn’t necessarily punch through,” Shiv defended.

The older brother gestured to his phone. “Sure, but… this is not okay.”

“We know it’s not okay, that’s why we’re preparing a corporate response,” the redhead bit back. 

The conversation moved on to PR, which Gerri claimed to be Preston. This was met with Shiv’s vehement disapproval—they were three disgusting, old white dudes who, in her words, would just claim the women to be money-grabbing sluts.

“Call me sociopathic but isn’t this a tiny bit quaint in comparison to the past few years?” asked Roman. 

You bit down on the inside of your cheek in thought. “I think they’re hyperfixating on this right now because they see it as a gap in the chainmail. Mo is dead. He’s not around to bear the weight of blame on his shoulders.”

“We’re being punished for the sins of others,” claimed Logan. “No one real gives a fuck.”

You narrowed your eyes at the hot take. 

For once, you seemed to agree with Kendall when he shook his head. “No, no, we can’t be seen to minimize. I think we need to loudly and quickly say that this is not okay.”

“The question is, what would make it go away the fastest? Do we say it’s something and fix it, or say that it’s nothing and fuck off?” Gerri asked.

“Something,” pushed Kendall. “There has to be consequences.”

To your frustration, Shiv shook her head. “Nope. Condemn and move on. It’s just good advice.”

“Not to be the only frilly-pink feminist in the room, but this isn’t something to sweep under the rug. It may not seem that serious at first glance because of the vagueness but a few dozen women’s lives were ruined, and that’s just barely what we know because of the NDAs. If we ignore it now, it’ll come back to bite the company in the ass later down the line. The least we can do is compensate them, no?” you said, crossing your arms.

Sinking into a wooden chair that creaked beneath his weight, Logan threw his hands up. “This is bullshit. It’s all about me! It’s not real, it’s not honest. They don’t give a flying fuck for these poor bitches. They hate me! And I won’t be giving them the satisfaction of giving in. So no—condemn and move on.” 

You wanted to bury your face in your hands and scream. But you didn’t. You stood still and expressionless. 

They started discussing the panel for later that day. The original plan was for it to be Kendall and Roman up there, but having a woman up there would be much more… fitting given the well-timed article’s release. Shiv haughtily refused, but softened upon her dad asking her if she would. 

She’d think about it. 

And with that, the group began to file out. 

The hours trickled on by and before you knew it, there was only ten minutes until Roman and Kendall were supposed to go up for the panel. You were helping Rome rehearse through what he was supposed to say, even though you didn’t agree with the direction they were taking with simply condemning—it was better than not addressing it at all. 

It was all going smoothly until Shiv burst through the doors, declaring that she wanted to be up there for the panel, much to both Kendall and Roman’s dismay.

“Come on, man. It’s panicky as fuck,” said the eldest of the three. “It looks… kind of fucking cheesy, to be honest. Like we’re throwing our token woman at it? The woman who’s not even in our company?”

“Well, it can’t be two men up there right now. It just—it can’t. Right?” Shiv rounded her gaze to you, and you shrugged half-heartedly. 

“I don’t know, Shiv.”

Standing up, Hugo suggested, “Well, the audience is just expecting Roys, so—maybe we stick at two and someone relaxes.”

Logan’s gaze fell on his youngest son. “Romulus.”

“What? You want to pull me? That—that looks like a humiliation,” your friend heatedly defended. 

“We could just say you got sick,” Hugo said.

Both you and Roman made eye contact and you nodded at him to defend himself.

“No. No, you can’t just fuckin’ bump me ten minutes before the panel. That’s bullshit! Fuck that. Respectfully, dad, why is Shiv even here?” he hissed.

“I was invited,” Shiv replied in a serrated tone.

Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, no, I need to be out there. We need to hang together. You know, like, family.”

Rolling her eyes, Shiv drew herself to her full height. “Oh, so you wanna get Connor on the line, get him to come down here, too? Let him dog-pile on so no one’s nose gets put out of joint?”

“I’ll put your nose out of joint!”

“Oh, yeah, you should say that on the panel—!” Shiv pursed her lips. “If you wanna know what I really think—I think you should drop both of them and I’ll do it solo.”

This time, you were quick to say, “Shiv, I love you, but you’re not part of the company yet. To shove you up there alone would look like fucking… empty wokeness. Like we’re smothering the problem with estrogen and calling it a day.”

Roman nodded. “Pretty desperate, Shiv—exploiting the situation for personal gain, hm?”

The three siblings bickered some more until it grew quite cumbersome and repetitive. 

Two minutes until the panel.

Logan held up three fingers, and that was the end of that.

The panel was… certainly a panel.

It was a lot of dancing around the subject between Kendall and Shiv. You were pretty sure Roman had only said a grand total of two short sentences. 

“We’ll do whatever it takes, you know? We’ll do whatever anyone wants,” he had said. 

From where you were watching on a screen backstage, you face-palmed with a sigh.

By the end, Shiv had made the fatal mistake of implying that Logan should step down from his position, going so far as to call him an old dinosaur. 

It was a shitshow, painted over with glitter and rainbows. In all honesty, it was an embarrassment to even associate yourself with the company at this point. There went all your business schmoozing and fraternizing for the past two days—right down the drain.

“Nice. Bring your daughter to the slaughter. Did you tell the old dinosaur what you were going to do?” Roman asked his twin once the three siblings returned to the room you were in. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, ‘We will do whatever anyone wants?’ What the hell was that?” Kendall asked.

Shrugging, Roman clapped both his hands on your shoulders from behind, squeezing your tensed muscles. “Fuck it, right? It’s just words. There’s no press, anyway. Who gives a shit?”

It was then that Logan walked in, Marcia and Gerri in tow. Roman’s hands slipped away from you to go pour himself a drink and stand by his father.

“It was too much, Siobhan,” said their stepmother. “Dinosaurs?”

Ducking his head, Kendall nodded. “It was over the line. Shiv was over the line.”

Brows cinching, Shiv protested, “Oh, I think it was pretty clear that I was talking about—”

Roman interrupted after taking a long sip of champagne. “No, it was clear, yeah. You tortured the old dinosaur. Barbecued him alive—!”

In a blink of an eye, Logan swung around and back-handed his son straight across the jaw, bellowing out, “Don’t fuck with me!”

The hit rang loud and true across the room. Flesh on flesh, skin on skin, father to son, boot to dog.

Roman fell back with a muffled noise, and you were immediately shooting out of your seat to curl a protective arm around him, placing yourself between him and his aggrieved father. Commotion sprung out—Kendall vehemently yelling at Logan not to touch his brother as if he were a valiant hero, Gerri trying her best to quell the situation with reassuring words.

But all the noise was drowned out in your ears. It was just you and Roman.

It was like you were children all over again, watching with watery eyes as young Roman tried his best to pick himself up after Logan’s frequent beatings. You hadn’t even noticed that your eyes had welled up with a warbling film of stinging tears, heart slamming against your ribcage with staggering, uneven jolts. 

He hunched over, working his jaw and spitting into his palm a second later. 

A tooth fell past his lips, flecked with blood and spit. You could feel your lips twitch downwards as you tried your hardest not to cry.

Kendall flanked to his left, his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and Shiv stood in front of him.

“Rome—you alright?” they both asked. “You okay?”

He worked his jaw again, then shrugged off Kendall’s hand. He was in no mood to be coddled by anyone but you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fucking fine! Just fucking—leave me alone. I’m fine.” As you began to lead him away, he called over his shoulder. “It’s just a tooth. I’ll get another one.”

Once it was just the two of you in the hallway, Roman dropped the act. It hurt like hell, and he felt safe enough around you not to have to put up a front.

You tugged him into your room with a mildly haunted expression, fingers gripping far too tightly into Roman’s arm. He walked into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out. The water ran a dark shade of pink. 

As he gingerly began brushing his teeth with a spare toothbrush you handed him, you studied his reflection. He stared back, hating how worried you looked for him. 

“You want me to call a medic?” you asked, voice small. “There’s a few on site.”

Roman squinted at nothing in particular, humming. His tongue ran along the part of his gums that throbbed the most. It tasted like copper. A familiar taste. Nostalgic, even.

“No.”

“Do you need to be alone?”

“Fuck, no.”

You rolled a tissue into a tightly-packed bundle, telling him to bite down on it to stop the bleeding. He did as you told, but not without complaining about it tasting like ass. It actually tasted like nothing, but Roman wanted to make you smile. He hated seeing you so worked up.

With that, the two of you made your way out of the bathroom. You made him sit down on your bed and wrapped your arms around him, clinging onto him like a koala to a tree trunk. The both of you slowly kicked off layers of your clothes, trying your best not to break hold of each other in the process. Shoes first, then jackets, then pants, then button-ups.

You were left in a dark short sleeve and your underwear, and he’d tossed off all his clothes except his boxers. 

“The Argie awards are in an hour,” said Roman. His lips brushed against your collarbone as he rested his forehead onto the slope of your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have stripped down to nearly nothing if I was planning on going.”

“You’re gonna miss dinner. You’ll starve to death—and you won’t be allowed to blame me for it.”

“I have a banana somewhere in here. Plus—room service is only a call away.”

“Mmh. Mmkay.”

The tooth was still curled inside his clenched fist. 

“Wait,” you murmured against him, crawling off his lap to grapple for your wallet that you’d left on the nightstand. Roman murmured unhappily at the loss of warm contact, rubbing his palms up and down your legs. “I don’t really carry cash around these days but… I always keep a few spare coins in here.”

He watched as you fished through the slits, brandishing first a dime, then a nickel. Another dime.

Then you pulled out a quarter, grinning widely.

“I’m supposed to slip this under your pillow while you’re sleeping, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me get up for the rest of the night,” you whispered, crawling back to him and throwing a leg over his waist. He curled his own legs around you as well, leaning his weight into you. His head throbbed, his jaw throbbed harder, his heart throbbed the most. 

The cool metal of the quarter fell into his free hand. Then, he unfurled his fist. You stared down at the bloody tooth with unsure eyes.

“You have pretty teeth,” you told him after snapping out of your initial frozen state, pressing your nose into his uninjured cheek. “Even when we were kids, you had the prettiest pearly whites.”

Roman smiled, even though it ached to. “I remember you chased me around for my tooth once. Like a fucking freak.”

“Hm. You loved it, Romey.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he said, trying his best to be dismissive. Then, he craned his arm to place the tooth on the nightstand. 

You yawned, and he followed closely after you.

“It’s only eight at night. We’re falling asleep at fuckin’... fucking granny hour,” he grumbled.

A giggle, cut off by another yawn. “I don’t blame us. It’s been a long day. Sweet dreams, Romeo.”

“Night, fuck-face.”

“You know I love you, right?” you whispered. A light kiss to his throat as he swallowed.

“Obviously. You’re infatuated with me. Obsessed, even.”

If one was infatuated-slash-obsessed with the other, it’d most certainly be Roman.

You hummed and grinned into him. You didn’t deny his words, merely huffing with amusement. “I’m going to take your tooth and sell it on EBay for a hundred bucks.”

I’m fucking in love you, he wanted to scream.

“Fuck off,” he said. “It’s worth a million bucks at least. Shut up—stop fucking smiling, you freak. Go to sleep.”

You settled against him some more, and drifted off a few minutes later, listening to his heart beat from his throat.

You weren’t entirely sure what had transpired during the last few hours of Argestes, but there was one thing made clear: Nan Pierce had called off the acquisition entirely. You had no idea what to think of the entire situation anymore. You were just… tired of it all.

Not long after, a team had called you in to record a video message for Logan’s big fiftieth anniversary at Waystar. You were given very little time to figure out what to say, and so your message was short and sweet:

“Hey, Uncle Logan. I think we all owe you a bit of gratitude for giving half a century of your life to the large, ever-expanding field we call media. You’ve always been a constant figure in my life—heh, more constant than my own parents. I couldn’t imagine where I’d be without you. Congratulations, and I look forward to the next fifty years working by your side.”

It wasn’t over the top, and only slightly sugar-coated with falsities. 

Once you stepped out of the recording booth, Roman shot you a grin. “Cocksucker,” he teased. “There you go—something you and Rhea can bond over.”

You prodded his chest with stiff fingers. “Shut up,” you fondly told him.

“How’d you even get all that in one fucking take? They had me say ‘I love you, Dad’, like, ten times in a row.”

Before you could retort back, the two of you bumped into Shiv, who was typing away furiously at her phone. 

“What do you guys reckon—you think Dad is boning Rhea?” she asked.

With a snort, Roman strode away to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Can’t wrap my head around that. Too steamy. Too hot.”

“You are a walking Freudian complex, you know that, Ro?” you asked him, bumping his hips with yours so he’d move over as you fixed your own drink. “I don’t wanna think about it, honestly. Who my godfather fucks is really none of my business.”

“You’re just jealous. You want daddykins all to yourself!” said Roman in a sing-song voice, which made you purposefully step onto his toes. “OW!”

The hot coffee jostled over the rim of his cup and some of it sloshed onto his chest. He sent you a glare and you kissed his cheek with a sweet smile before moving off to sit next to Connor.

“Yeah, yeah, but we should, like, talk about what this means. We’re… we’re all sensing the shift, right?” asked Shiv.

“Gerri says she’s the new thing,” said Roman as he took a seat beside you, obnoxiously leaning back to drape both his legs over your thighs.

Connor lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, it just so happens that Gerri was the new thing a while back.”

“Mmh—Logan made it clear that she was more or less there as a placeholder,” you said, sipping on your cup, watching the siblings over the rim. “Come on—there’s no way Logan is handing the company over to a woman, much less a woman older than fifty. It’s a shame, because Gerri really could’ve been a great CEO had she been given an actual chance.”

It didn’t go past your notice to see Shiv’s face contort with dismay at your words. Not too long ago, she’d been under the impression that Logan was handing the company over to a woman—her. 

“I just think we need to be careful,” she said.

“Awh, what’s wrong? You all wedgied up because Rhea stood on your back and worked your arms like an elliptical?” asked Roman, which made both you and Connor snort with amusement.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, we should probably have a plan. You know, in case Dad does something rash.”

It was then that Connor was called away to record his message, and Kendall sauntered in just a minute later. His jacket and pants were noticeably rumpled and a pair of sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Only assholes like Kendall would wear sunglasses indoors.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted everyone.

“You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday—you want us to think you got laid. Nice try.” Both you and Roman giggled like schoolgirls, which only had the older man rolling his eyes. 

“Well, have fun discussing killing Rhea—” you began.

“There wasn’t anything about killing—” protested Shiv.

“I’m gonna head out. Gotta get some work done before the flight to Dundee. Which, is so fucking over the top, by the way. Even my parents are going for this. They weren’t there for any of my birthdays in the past twenty years, but sure, let’s go to Uncle Logan’s celebration for his fiftieth year working at Waystar.” You nudged Roman’s legs off of yours so you could stand up. 

Rome’s eyes widened. “Your parents are coming? Damn. Rhea really went all out, didn’t she?”

You frowned. “Feels more like a personal affront to me than anything. Not looking forward to seeing them, but whatever. See you guys later.”

They all murmured their farewells and you patted Roman’s knee softly before heading out.

Dundee was cold. So cold that you had to wear two layers of thermal socks, and your toes were still cold. Roman made fun of you the entire way into the hotel room, joking about icicles forming beneath your chin. 

Once you were finally inside, you cranked your heater up as high as it could go, shedding all your layers off with a grateful moan. It’d been a long flight, and you were exhausted.

Roman laid down on your bed, lazily turning his head to follow your movements as you flitted to and fro around your room, unpacking your essentials.

“There’s better ways to warm up than hanging your wrinkled button-ups,” he quipped. One of his brows quirked upwards in an almost seductive manner.

You laughed at that, fishing out articles of clothing from your luggage. “You’re all bark and no bite, Roman. Besides—you literally brought Tabitha to this event. Where even is she, anyway?”

With a shrug, he remarked absentmindedly, “Oh, she’s off exploring all the joys of Scotland.”

“So… grass and sheep?”

He laughed his hyena-laugh. “Yeah, grass and sheep.” Then, he propped himself up on an elbow to face you properly. “Did you bring a date?”

“Ugh. Didn’t want to bring one. Not with my parents coming. It’ll be a nightmare.”

Something in Roman’s eyes softened. “I would’ve been your date if, uh, if I hadn’t already asked Tabs. To be fair, I asked her before I knew about your parents. I can kick her back to America right now if you ask.”

You paused in your ministrations. “Stop it. I like Tabs. She’s nice. And I wouldn’t have wanted you to be my date out of pity, anyway.”

Roman lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug, lips pursed. “It wouldn’t be pity if I wanted to.”

A beat of silence. 

You blew out a sigh. “I’m really here for the image. I’ll say hi to my parents, and then avoid them for the rest of the night.”

“I can help you with avoiding them.”

“Hm?”

“Gerri wants me to secure funding for Waystar to go private. As a… back up plan, in case everything combusts into fuckin’ flames. She wants me to target Eduard. Seduce him, or whatever. You can come with—butter him up with all your oozy corporate rank and that—that pretty face on your face. He wouldn’t be able to resist if we double-combo him.” Roman shot you a lopsided smile that only lifted one corner of his lips. You pushed away the urge to coo at the fact that he called your face pretty. “Or… you can flit around with all of Dad’s cocksuckers and awkwardly bump into your parents two hundred times before the waterworks break out and you make an embarrassment of yourself in the middle of the celebration.”

Done with putting away your clothes, you made your way to the bed and sat down beside him, your shoulder pressed up flush over his. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Rome. Yeah, of course I’ll come.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can repay me with a blowjob.”

You laughed, but a small part of you wondered if he was serious.

“Any other ways I can repay you? None that could, uhm, potentially warrant a lawsuit?”

Roman scratched at his chin in thought. “Yeah, actually—what if we got, like, married?” His voice went all soft and high-pitched. Lilting. Tentative. 

Your eyes widened at first, then narrowed thinly. “What?” you asked, partially incredulous. He was joking, right?

Right?

“Not like—” He gestured aimlessly. “Not like that. Not actual marriage. Like something equivalent to that—like me chaining you down in the basement, or something. Like me kidnapping you and keeping you hostage.”

“Romeo, what the hell are you talking about?” You sat forward, your face all the closer to his. “In what world is that equivalent to marriage?”

Nervous anxiety clawed within his stomach. “Jesus Christ, I’m not talking about marriage. Just something on that fucking level of us being tied together. I don’t know, you chop off my dick, I chop off your tongue, whatever the fuck. You know, like, you eat me, I eat you—like they do in Germany.”

You were pretty sure that’s not what they did in Germany.

“You know what I mean.” His eyes were pleading, asking you for something you weren’t quite sure of.

“I… I don’t think I do?” You took one of his hands. “Rome, what’s going on? You’re being… weirder than normal. Did something happen with Tabitha?”

Because he was in love with you and he had no idea how to say it. 

The answer to Roman was simple: he just wouldn’t.

Hastily, Roman pulled away from your touch. He rolled off the bed in one single motion, almost tumbling over his own feet as he scrambled to the door. He tried to ignore your crestfallen expression watching him put more distance between the two of you.

“No, nothing happened with Tabitha. Just, uh—just think about it. I’ll text you the details to meet Eduard. Bye!” He was already halfway out the door with his last word.

You screwed your lips to the side in puzzled exasperation, and blew out a heavy sigh.

The pub was nearly empty, save for a snogging couple near the back, and a few scattered about the seats casually sipping their ale as they watched the soccer match on the mounted television above the bar. Amongst them was Eduard, standing out like a sore thumb with his crisp suit and his dark, slicked-back hair. Just the sight of him seemed to cost money.

“My God, you smell like cotton candy—I almost want to lick your neck. Don’t you want to lick his neck, Y/N?” Roman asked instead of greeting him like any regular person would.

You shot him a half-hearted glare before sticking your hand out. Roman had always been one to overstep boundaries. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Asgarov.”

“Oh, please, Eduard is fine. And the pleasure is all mine,” he languidly drawled, eyes darting up and down your form as a pleased smile curled the corner of your lips. He firmly clasped your palm in a handshake. “I’ve heard much about you—general manager… the glue of the company, some people say. But Roman never mentioned that you were so beautiful.”

A large part of Roman’s insides bristled with hostility, an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he plastered on a strained smile anyway. “Yup, yeah, forgot to mention. But, uh, yeah, thanks for coming, man. My dad’s going to be very pleased when he sees old friends and whatnot…” He waved the bartender over to order himself a pint, and added on a non-alcoholic beverage for you—he knew you didn’t like to drink during the day. Then, he caught sight of the television. “What’s this? Who’s playing?”

“Scottish,” replied Eduard, taking a sip of his own beer. “I’m thinking of getting in.”

 Your eyebrows raised a notch. “Mmh, smart choice. Lots of buried money in European soccer leagues.”

Eduard spared you a warm smile.

A frown crossed Roman’s features—he was starting to regret inviting you, even though he’d been the one to suggest you flirt him up. 

“Scottish kicky-ball,” he remarked. “Looks like two eunuchs trying to fuck a letterbox.”

His foul comment went largely ignored by the two of you. 

Eduard was certainly an attractive man, you thought once you watched his tongue draw out to run along his lips in thought. “I’m liking the look of Hibs,” he said, eyes trained on the television, flitting down to glance at you for a second. “Or Hearts. I’m undecided.”

“Hearts?” asked Roman. “That’s my dad’s team. The only childhood relic he can stomach.”

Hazy memories of seven-year-old you peeking over the expensive leather couches to see what your godfather was watching on screen came across your mind. It always cycled through the same three channels: ATN, soccer, and old black-and-white English films from the fifties. You never stayed for long, always darting out of the room in fear of him turning to see you there, watching along with him. But from the little that you did catch a glimpse of—you could only barely recall the green insignias and jerseys of the Hibs on the screen.

“I think he was a Hibs fan, no?” you asked, thanking the bartender when he slid your drink over. 

Roman scoffed. “Pfft—I think I’d know which team dad likes.” You didn’t bother trying to argue with him. After all, your childhood memories weren’t exactly the most reliable source.

With a half-minded hum, Eduard said, “I’ve got an agent in Spain. I buy the club, he loans me nine shit-hot players. Climb the ladder, take the second Champion’s League space, UEFA goes full European super-league, flip it, walk away.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds fucking slick, dude,” Roman replied, sipping on the frothy part of his drink. “Slicker than cum on a dolphin’s back.”

“You want in?” asked Eduard.

“Mmh, maybe. But before all that—can we talk about what we talked about before? You know, a major injection, or even taking us private. Have you talked to your dad?” asked Roman. 

A smile and a nod. “It’s a conversation we can have—I have total, three-sixty latitude to work on my father’s behalf.”

“Great. Yeah, cool. No, me too. Yup.”

He didn’t, but you wisely kept your mouth shut. 

“Weird, how much we’re the same,” said Roman, playfully punching Eduard’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you guys are practically twins,” you quipped, smiling over the rim of your glass. “Couldn’t tell the two of you apart.”

The dark-haired man tilted his head. “Buy them with me. We’ll split it fifty-fifty.”

“I, uh…” Roman spared you a look, silently asking you if he was being stupid with his rashness. “I don’t really see a downside, other than zero knowledge or interest in Scottish football. But, yeah! Hearts. Sounds fun.”

“Hibs,” you said.

Roman wrinkled his nose. “Hearts.”

“Hearts, it is,” said Eduard.

It wasn’t Hearts. 

After Kendall’s laughable rap song about—what was it—stanning his dad and calling him the OG, Roman had broken the news that he’d bought the Hearts club as a present for Logan on such a special day.

Logan fixed the three of you with a blank stare. 

“The Hearts?” he echoed.

Roman spread his arms, wiggling the tips of his finger in a sad rendition of jazz hands. “Mhm.”

“Hearts Football Club?”

Roman nodded.

Shiftily, Logan looked towards you. He always looked to you for clarification when he couldn’t understand his son—which was quite often.

“Uhm, Roman bought the Hearts for you,” you said, voice small.

“It’s your team, right?” Rome asked.

A beat of silence.

“I’m Hibs,” said your godfather.

You fucking knew it.

“You’re Hibs,” parroted Roman, his shoulders beginning to droop. “Really? Are you sure? I thought you were Hearts—I’m pretty sure you were Hearts, dad.”

Scratching at his chin, Logan softly said, “You know what, maybe you’re right. Hm. How would I know what team I’ve supported all my fucking life? Who knows—maybe I supported Kilmarnock. Or Fucklechester Rangers? I mean, how could I possibly know?”

Roman recoiled as if he’d been kicked. Eduard patted his shoulder, and brushed his hand along your lower back as he slipped away, chest burning with secondhand embarrassment. 

“Sorry, Uncle Logan, there’s just been a, uh, a miscommunication—” you said, hastily tugging Roman away. The two of you wove through the crowd until you got out of the large room, into one of the quieter halls. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, watching Roman frustratedly pace back and forth in front of you. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he snapped out, “I thought he was fucking Hearts, dude!”

“... I told you, Ro.”

He scowled. “Ugh. Shut up.”

Before you could ask if he could maybe switch somehow, two figures pushed through the doors, coming to stand in front of you. You tore your gaze away from the flustered man, fixing your eyes on—

Fuck.

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N,” said your mother. In her hand was a glass of wine, half empty. “You’ve grown quite a bit. Have you gained weight?”

She reached out, but you immediately stepped back, closer to Roman. 

After getting over your initial shock, you cleared your throat and tentatively responded, “Hi, mom. Dad.”

The couple gave you an awkward onceover. It’d been years since you last saw them, with maybe one or two texts exchanged every year for the holidays. Though, even that wasn’t a guarantee.

“We, uhm, we saw you rush out with Roman here and thought we’d say hello,” said your father, sparing you a terse smile.

“Wow.” Roman, unsurprisingly, inserted himself into the conversation. “And the parents of the year award goes to…”

“You thought you’d say hello. Jesus—I haven’t seen either of you in fucking forever and the first thing you do is nitpick at my appearance?” you growled, fists clenching by your side. “Listen, if you want to be in my life, then be in my life. But you can’t pretend that everything is okay when you see me and then promptly waltz off and disappear for another decade or two.”

Your mother sipped at her wine, at a loss for words. They glanced at each other, both wearing a mildly guilty expression, but had really nothing to defend themself with.

With an angry scoff, you stormed back into the room where Logan was about to give his closing speech, shoulder roughly knocking into your father’s as you brushed past him. 

Roman scratched the back of his head, left alone with your parents. 

“For the record, Y/N is doing fucking great without either of you. You know—crunching those numbers, being a goddamn messiah for the lower-level employees, fucking the boss. All that jazz.” He grinned and hum-laughed when their eyes widened in shock, and sauntered in after you. It wasn’t exactly that white of a lie. You’d given him a handjob and the two of you technically had phone sex—would those two activities put together constitute as one whole traditional, in-person fuck?

He’d come in to stand beside you and Tabitha just in time to hear his father make the announcement.

“... And I shall be appointing Rhea Jarrell as my Chief Executive Operator.”

The crowd burst into applause. Roman clapped with a faux-surprised expression. When he glanced at you, you were wiping the corner of your eyes with the back of your palm and hastily clapped along.

Once the cheers began to mellow away, Roman stopped clapping to lace his fingers through the gaps of yours, squeezing tight. Your eyes watered even more at the contact, but you squeezed back in gratitude.

There was an interview of  James Weissel on the television: a whistleblowing interview tossing Gerri, Kendall, and Tom into the stinking shitpot that was the cruise incidents, accusing the three of covering up McClintock’s actions. Logan had shut it off before anybody could finish watching.

Whilst everyone was busy prattling off about how bad of a situation this was, Gerri seemed to be the one lighthouse amidst the storm.

“I say we tell the truth,” she calmly said, adjusting her glasses to sit higher up her nose. “The family knew nothing of this. We throw Mo overboard. Mo, bad apple. Jim Weasel, bad apple. Spies a book deal—sotto voce, backed by Sandy and Stewy. All corporate fuckery, no real concern. In terms of historic shit? I say we give up Bill. He should’ve let us know what he discovered rather than cleaning up without telling us the details.”

Bill had been the old Tom before Tom was, well, Tom.

And so there was the strategy: letting Bill take the fall, and kill him off. It wasn’t… a decision you necessarily felt good about, but it was the least messy the situation could be.

Things felt like they’d be smoothed over, just for a little bit.

But then Siobhan came in, phone clutched tightly in her hand. “Gil is going to call for hearings.”

This stirred up quite a murmur in the room. Both Kendall and Frank sat up in their seats with incredulous questions on the tip of their tongues.

“Yeah, Senate Commerce. Probably House, too.” 

Gerri was on her phone in an instant. “Buckle up folks,” she said while scrolling through the news. “We’re going to get an invite to the national latrine. See who’s going to take a public dump.”

“Mr. Fuck is going to Washington,” Shiv sighed.

It was then that Logan let out an ear-splitting bellow of rage. It shocked both you and Roman into flinching. 

“NO! I CAN’T HAVE THIS NOW!” he screamed in distress.

There was a long moment of silence. 

In a leveled tone, you asked Shiv, “Who’s testifying?”

“Uh, well… well, they’d want Dad.”

Kendall quickly protested, “No, we can’t—we won’t let that happen—”

“Protect the egg chamber!” said Roman. Nobody could quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not. 

It was then that Hugo suggested Gerri and Tom to testify. The group went back and forth for a little while longer on what the play would be, but it was quite clear that everybody was already settled with Gerri and Tom going up there. 

To your surprise, Logan called for you and Roman out of the room. 

A part of you wondered if he’d beat Roman over the head with his fancy business shoe for buying the wrong soccer team. You certainly wouldn’t put it past him, especially in his already-agitated state. 

“I need both of your help,” he told the two of you once you were out of the room, lingering by the foot of the pristine staircase. 

“Need someone to run to the store for smokes?” Roman asked, his hands propped on his hips.

“This’ll go on all night… and it might not be okay,” your godfather said.

This made you tilt your head. “Will this really sway the shareholders into folding? It happened under our noses three decades ago, and the perpetrator is dead.”

“The very fact that we’re being called to testify will spook the shareholders. I’m on a knife’s edge.” He grunted softly as he lowered himself to sit on one of the lower steps of the cold staircase. “Ten bad minutes on camera, and that could be it. The end.”

Roman’s brows raised. “The end? Come on, Dad.”

“I need the two of you to chase down the sovereign wealth money,” said Logan.

You and Roman glanced at one another. Was he being serious? 

“Right. Uhm… I mean—that’s… it’s a cool idea, but it’d be a stretch, no?” Roman tentatively brought up. 

Logan leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his elbows, which were resting upon his knees. Though he had made himself physically smaller, he’d always be the biggest presence in the room. “We need that central Asian money. It’s a time out from the responsibilities of being a public company. That’s a fucking lifeline, if I’ve ever seen one.”

“They’d be taking on a massive amount of debt. That’s a… huge responsibility, Uncle Logan.” 

The older man snorted. “Which is why I’m making you go with him. Make sure he doesn’t fuck up. Keep it under wraps. And bring Karl and Laird with you, as well, for the financial matters.” There was a pause as he studied the two of you. “Can you do it?”

Roman scratched anxiously at the back of his head. “Fuck, Dad, I want to say I can. But, I’ll be honest—if it’s, like, really important… I mean, I can say I can do it—like one of those firefighters in the movies. But I don’t know if—”

“You act the fuckleknuckle, but you know… people like you.” 

There it was. A narrow slant of light. It wasn’t real—at least, you didn’t think it was—but it was warmth regardless.

Roman’s features twisted. “It’s a really big fucking deal.”

“Nah. It’s getting the right number from the right suit. Getting your dick in there is easy. Getting into bed—that’s the hard part,” said his father. “You can do it. Both of you can.”

You scuffed your shoe against the floor just as Roman’s nose twitched. 

“Yeah. Sure, dad, I got it.”

Logan pushed himself off the staircase, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. The light was warm, and far too addicting. He smiled softly. 

It wasn’t real, you had to remind yourself. It’s never real. But did that really matter? Did it?

“You’re brilliant, my dear. A real force to reckon with. I trust you to hammer the nail right on its head,” he said. 

You swallowed harshly. “I hope we won’t disappoint, Uncle.”

When he pulled away, he began to make his way towards the doors once more. “Keep me close,” he said. 

And with that, he was gone.

Roman let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

“Why does it feel like we just dug our own graves? I feel like I’ve got fuckin’ dirt in my eyes,” he lamented just as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You know, if the company ever kills you off, I’ll quit. I don’t know how I’d do it around here without you.”

“All bark, still no bite,” you quietly told him. “You wouldn’t leave the company. Not on your own free will.”

Like a caged dog: it was only able to escape if their owner opened the door for them.

“I’ll kill myself if they kill you. I mean it—I’ll eat a fucking silver bullet.”

“How romantic.”

“Mhm—we’re like fuckin’... Romeo and Juliet.”

He smiled, and so did you.

“C’mon. Let’s go watch the grown-ass men I bought kick around balls for a bit,” said Roman.

Eduard greeted you at the soccer team’s practice field with a kiss on the cheek, Roman with a firm handshake. 

“It’s good to see you,” you told him with a genuine smile. 

“Good to see you guys, too,” he replied. His expression was well-guarded behind a pair of dark shades. “With everything I’ve heard going down at Waystar, I was surprised you even showed up.”

With a shrug, Roman said, “I have nothing better to do, I promise. I’m gonna cut right to the chase here—do you think there’s any chance you guys have the muscle to take us private? Is that something that’s interesting to you and your dad?”

With nearly no hesitation, Eduard bobbed his head in an affirmative.

Shocked, Karl asked, “Really? That’s…”

Eduard spared the older man half of a grin. “Yes, we’re interested. It’ll look good as part of our portfolio, and we like the news expertise you can share.” Just as Laird began spewing off details to tell Logan, Eduard cut him off by saying, “Actually, Roman, Y/N—can you guys do it? The two of you make quite a team. You and your… bum-boys here can come to Turkey tomorrow? Pitch to me and my Dad?”

You and Roman exchanged earnest glances, as if speaking to each other telepathically. You were sure you could push back your work at Waystar for a few days to settle the privatizing deal. 

“Absolutely. I think we can definitely do that,” said Rome, with a pleased hum. Then, he turned back to fix his gaze on Laird and Karl. “Ain’t that right, bum-boys?”

 “Why Turkey?” you asked, brows raising. “I mean, I can pitch to you anywhere, but why, you know, all the way across the ocean?”

“There’s an investing conference in Bursa. Everyone will be there—we can get into it. Unless you have any objections…?”

Hastily, you shook your head. “No, no. This is great. Thanks for the opportunity.”

“No problem,” said Eduard, watching the ball fly across the field, landing into the goal. “I like you guys. Really.”

The coach called for the team to huddle up, allowing for the owners to say a few words. A part of you wondered if Rome even remembered the name of the FC he had bought.

“Great session, guys. And listen, for Saturday, you have the ability, you have the mentality. Watch that press doesn’t leave you exposed on the turnover, and you fucking got this. Rome?” Eduard turned to your friend, who hadn’t really prepared anything to say.

Roman fixed you with a panicked look, but you nudged him forward with a purse of you lips.

Scratching the back of his head, he awkwardly started, “Uh, yeah, hey guys! Really proud to be associated with all of you. Uh, well, what the fuck can I tell you that you don’t already know? You, uh, you got all this guys, don’t worry about it. ‘Cause you guys are a team, and, uh, when a team… is a team… it can’t actually physically be beaten. It’s impossible. So, go hard, go fast—uh, go you… lovely bastards.” The team glanced at each other and began to awkwardly clap, before Rome looked to you and said, “Anything else you want to add?”

“Me?” you hissed under your breath. “Rome, I’m not an owner—”

“Just say something—!” he whispered back, yanking you forward by the arm.

Stiff, you waved at the litter of sweaty, jerseyed men in front of you. “Hi. Yeah, I’m sure you guys know I’m not one of the team’s owners, but I was there during the business negotiations as Roman’s, uh… co-partner. All I can do now is wish you all the best of luck for your next match—get some rest, eat some good food, keep your eyes on the prize. And if any of you want to get in touch with Waystar Royco for any sort of PR pitches to get your face out there… Coach will have me and Roman’s contact details.” With a smile, you stepped back, shoulder brushing against Roman’s.

“Fuck you,” he muttered bitterly. “Did you rehearse that in your head or something? How’d you manage to perfectly squeeze business into a fucking pep talk?”

You grinned and pinched his cheek lightly. “Go hard and go fast, you lovely bastard,” you mocked, voice rife with fondness, chortling when he swatted your hand away.

Before you knew it, you and Roman (and the bum-boys) were in Turkey, pitching to Eduard and his team. You had tried practicing a little the night before, but Roman had tossed all the flashcards away out of part-frustration and part-cockiness, assuring you that things would be fine. 

Now, as he was speaking, he seemed pretty confident in his own words. The two of you made a good team, after all.

“Look at the cash flow,” said Roman. “We are undervalued. I think tech just had everybody shitting their pants about legacy media, but really, the wheel turns.”

You nodded with an emphatic smile. “It’s true. No matter how much content moves to streaming sites, people will always want to look for something physical. Something you can feel and experience outside of home—hence Waystar’s adventure parks, and films to experience in theaters.” You made great effort to skirt around the touchy subject of cruises at the moment. 

“Most tech is overvalued. We’re profitable. We’re real money,” Roman added, growing more assured of himself with your support. 

“Tech is always changing. Invest in one thing, and it’ll be outdated in a blink of an eye. Invest in things people will always need: news, broadcasting, life experiences… now that’s reliable.” Eduard flashed you a smile, as if he was already sold.

“This is a tremendous opportunity,” said Rome. “This is once in a lifetime. You get to buy into the US media landscape at the very top. The very top.”

Two of the men leaned forward to whisper indistinctly to one another. 

“It’s a lot of debt,” one of them said once he finally pulled away. “You sure you can pull it together?”

“Absolutely sure,” Roman said with a mild laugh, knowing things with money and debt were quite rocky at the moment, before pointing back at Laird. “Jaime here is the fucking master of leverage. He has structured some of the biggest LBOs in history.”

“Guilty as charged,” said the older man.

Before anyone could say anything else, the doors to the room opened, and a few men filed in, murmuring indistinctly to the security. Your brows pulled together upon seeing guns strapped to their forms.

Roman exchanged a worried look with you.

“Are they, uh… are they with you?” he asked Eduard, who got up off his seat to speak to them in hushed tones.

“Rome, they have guns,” you murmured as you placed a hand on his forearm, glancing back at Karl and Laird. “What’s going on?”

The atmosphere seemed to chill when Eduard turned back to the four of you.

“Hey, look, we’re good. We’re good. But, uh… we’re all gonna go with these gentlemen now, okay?” He raised his hands in an almost placating manner, as if trying to tame a nervous mare. 

 Roman pointed at the armed men. “We’re going with them?” He laughed nervously, wondering if this was one big, elaborate joke. “Uh, no… I don’t think we—uh, who are these guys, exactly?”

Genuine fear began to curdle in your stomach when you watched the security walk out. “Dave just walked out. Hey, Eduard? I just—I need you to be honest with me. Are we in danger right now?”

Eduard worked his jaw in thought. “We’re just going to go with them now. Okay? It’ll be fine.”

“No, uh, I just—Can I just ask what this is in regards to?” Roman stepped in, high-strung. “Is this about the meeting? Is this a business thing?” 

Did I fuck it up and put a loaded gun to my own head? he wanted to say, but bit his tongue before he could.

With a sharp tone, you asked, “Our security guy, Dave, he just walked out with them. Where’d he go? Is he coming back?”

“Dave’s not coming,” said Eduard with pursed lips.

“He’s not coming?” Roman parroted. “Uhm… I would actually really like for Dave to come?”

“Dave is downstairs, we’ll go without him,” Eduard said in a calm tone. “Dave is a security risk. It’s better with these guys, okay?”

“Well, I know Dave, and I sure as hell don’t know these guys so… I think I’d prefer Dave—” you began to say, but was quickly cut off when Eduard put a hand on your shoulder and began leading your tense form out the room, Roman hot on your heels.

“It’s all good. It’s all under control,” Eduard murmured, though you highly doubted it. “There could be a situation, but we’re being looked after.”

A frown crossed Roman’s expression. “Oh, great. We’re being looked after. Fucking great. Laird—can you call Dave?”

They pulled out their phones, but the vested men with guns took the devices away just as quickly as it was pulled out. One stood in front of you with an expectant expression, and you complied with no resistance, handing him your phone, though not without a scowl.

“Great. They took my phone, and now I can’t contact my security, and now we’re going to die,” Roman said. When you looked at him, you could see genuine, restless fear dance over his irises. You didn’t quite know what to say, so you simply squeezed his arm as the two of you walked along.

The armed men led all of you to a crowded hotel lobby, where there seemed to be more hostages, more armed folk in similar attire. 

“Fuck,” Roman mumbled under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t business, is it?”

“Doesn’t look very business-y,” replied Karl.

When someone passed by and their gun brushed against your arm, you flinched back into Roman, your lips pulling back in a snarl. “Eduard. Fuck—Eduard, where the fuck are you taking us?”

“Just relax. This is normal,” he said, shiftily.

Roman scoffed. “Oh, yeah. This feels really fucking normal. Is this—are these guys terrorists? Where’s my fucking security guy? Where’s Dave?”

For a moment, Eduard seemed at a loss for words. You could feel dread pile up in your stomach. “It’s just… it’s an administrative action function,” he reluctantly said.

“Mm, yeah, great, and what exactly is that—?” Roman began to ask, before halting his own question when he trained his gaze on a struggle across the lobby. “Oh, wow, look at that. Guy not being allowed to leave the hotel at gunpoint. That’s—uh, yeah. So what’s… what’s this administrative action function?”

Pursing his lips, Eduard finally fessed up, “There’s just a gathering here now, of us and some other investors, and—”

“Men with guns?” Roman impatiently chirped.

“Yeah, yeah, that, and their guys are some kind of… anti-corruption kind of guys and this is like—it’s like their conference. Or, uh, a party of some sort. And we’re all invited.”

Your eye twitched. “That’s really lovely, but uh, what if I don’t want to go?”

A scream from somewhere over the crowd echoed through the lobby. Glass shattering followed soon after. Karl paled and he anxiously picked at a hangnail.

Eduard sighed. “It’s the kind of party where you have to go. It would be… rude.”

Roman stared at the ground, at nothing in particular. “Well, uh, I guess I wouldn’t mind being just a tiny bit rude.”

It was becoming more and more clear that no amount of protests or questions would get you out of this situation—not with every exit manned by armed personnel. The hostages in the hotel were soon herded into a large hall, empty save for bare white chairs for people to sit on. Eduard was led into a different room, and you briefly wondered if that’d be the last time you ever saw him.

You blew out a breath as you took a seat. Roman was quick to snare Laird into playing a multitude of games, like rock, paper, scissors, eye spy, and fuck, marry, kill. You didn’t pay much attention to them, instead trying to figure out what you’d do with yourself once you got out of this situation. One thing was for sure: your therapist was going to have a field day hearing this. 

“Where do you think they’re taking them?” you asked the men beside you when they began grabbing hostages and shoving them out the doors. 

“Doesn’t look like they’re gonna be taking a tour of the spa,” said Laird.

“My advice,” Karl huffed, looking awfully sweaty, “just don’t look at anything. If you don’t look, you’re not a witness.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Wonderful. Brilliant advice, Karl. At least you didn’t tell me to just take it if they decided to shove their dicks into my mouth.”

“Woah!” exclaimed Roman, eyes widening. “That’s not going to happen. Right? That can’t happen.”

You spared him a shrug, slumping back against the chair. Though, you were quick to sit up straight again when Eduard emerged from the doors, making a bee-line for you and Roman.

“Hey, guys. It’s all good. Things are good. So, uh, my president’s daughter’s husband has asked him to take closer control of some key assets. It’s anti-corruption, but it’s a bit of a power-grab. Some Turkish acquiescence, but it’s all in play.”

If you had to be honest, you understood very little of what he was saying. Whether it was because of your panic-hazed mind, or because he was merely being ambiguous, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Not to, uh, make this all about us…” began Roman, tentative, “but are they going to shoot us at any point?”

“No one is getting shot,” assured the bearded man. “Look, it’s complicated, but with the Zeynal here—there’s some interest about the deal.”

Deal? 

Both you and Roman glanced at each other. 

“Uh, fuck. Okay. The deal, sure,” said Rome.

“One thing they wanted clarity on was—how could they be sure the deal wouldn’t be blocked by your government?” Eduard asked.

You stuck your tongue against your cheek when Roman shook his head, “Well, it wouldn’t. My father has a lot of sway. I mean, he can’t lock up his opponents in a hotel, but, well, he kinda could.”

“And you’re the target of another bid? Won’t that be a problem?”

Sandy and Stewy. “Not a problem,” you quickly said. “They’re all bark, very little bite. If the price is right, we can easily reach a settlement before the shareholder meeting.”

With a nod, Eduard patted your knee, and he got up to leave—talk to his associates once more. 

“That went well,” said Laird, mildly surprised. 

“Yeah… a little too well,” Roman mused.

Hours later, Eduard returned, calling for the four of you to follow him.

It was a pitch. A messy pitch—one you clearly weren’t in the right mindspace for. One where the audience had clear smudges of coke lining their nostrils, dusting their tables. One that had a lot of money thrown into the empty promises, accompanied by high smiles and wandering eyes. It made you feel sick, and Roman clearly wasn’t a fan of it, either. Laird seemed to be satisfied with the mutual agreements, though. He heard money, and he immediately thought he was safe.

But the agreements didn’t feel quite real. None of it felt real. It was all bullshit, you wanted to yell at their face. Being held at gunpoint to play business in front of the coked out billionaires was not your preferred method of saving the company, especially when none of the settlements felt cemented. This wasn’t safe money to bet the entire company on—it might’ve not been money at all, in fact.

By the end of everything, the ambassador had arranged for a plane to finally get you out of the country. You fell asleep as soon as you sat down in your seat, the long hours going without sleep finally catching up to you. Roman curled up in the seat beside you, his head on your shoulder. He stayed awake the entire flight, listening to your steady breaths.

The Mediterranean. The Roys were on a fancy yacht in the Mediterranean.

It would’ve sounded like a pleasant getaway, if you weren’t dead-tired, having just returned from being held hostage at gunpoint. You just wanted to go home. Logan, however, wanted you and Rome by his side—and who were you to say no to the top dog?

As the speedboat skidded to a stop by the yacht, cheers erupted from siblings, along with Gerri and Frank, Greg and Tom. Roman slid his sunglasses on as he clambered onto the larger boat’s deck. 

“Here they are! The heroes of Asia!” exclaimed Shiv, a flute of champagne in hand. She was the first to greet you, taking your hand and helping you out of the speedboat. After a kiss to your cheek, you spared her an exhausted smile.

“The lions of Turkey! Welcome back, guys!” chimed Greg. He leaned down to embrace his cousin, but Roman was quick to push his face away. Greg didn’t dare try to hug you after that, merely waving from afar.

Frank clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Back like Odysseus. Did you guys ride out on sheep?”

Snorting, Shiv added, “Yeah, I heard you took down an entire army alone, bro.”

“That would’ve been really traumatizing if you weren’t already so fucked up,” Gerri told Roman, who simply frowned.

“Yeah, who’d you suck off to get out?” Kendall inserted.

Tom smiled widely from behind Shiv. “You were staying at Four Seasons, right? How did you guys escape? Did you—did you build a glider out of a caesar salad?”

Roman squinted at nothing in particular from behind the dark lens of his sunglasses. “Uh, you know what? It was actually fucking scary and we thought they might kill us, but yeah…” The tips of his fingers wiggled in a poor rendition of jazz hands. “Hardee-har-har, caesar salads, har-har. So funny.”

An awkward silence ensued between the small group. You scritched at your neck with a wince, wanting nothing more than a shower and a nap.

“Sorry, dude. Seriously,” said Kendall.

Roman snorted. “Yeah, no. They just raped me a little, but I’m no hero. They stuck their cocks down Y/N’s throat, too. Tell them.”

He nudged you and you shook your head tiredly. “They didn’t do that.”

“See? It got so bad that she trauma-blocked the memories. Shame on all of you,” he said, propping his fists on his hips. 

Feeling mildly guilty, Shiv had the gall to rub her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Sorry, Rome.”

“It’s fine. I’m just tired, or whatever. It was funny, actually. Karl almost shat in a bucket and I have it on my phone, so we can fully humiliate him in our daily jerkfest later,” said Rome, tugging you to sit down with him on a large white seat.

“So how’d it all go, business-wise?” Connor asked, eyeing the both of you curiously. “Or was that forgotten?”

Before either of you could say anything, Laird stepped in, shaking his head with a wide smile. “Oh, we can’t say anything about that. Confidential stuff. But they—they did good.”

“Oh! Okay. Promising!” Connor exclaimed, shooting the both of you a grin. “Congrats, you guys.”

Unease crackled between the two of you. When you locked gazes with Roman, he merely lifted one of his shoulders in a shrug, lips pursed. The deal probably wouldn’t go through. It was all empty promises, powdered with a layer of cocaine. 

The two of you failed. And maybe that was okay.

Your hand found his, and his head knocked against yours. He drank the beer Shiv handed him, and you drank in the salty air of the sea.

After you’d finally managed to pry yourself away from Roman (or, more accurately, Roman away from you), you had yourself a nice, hot shower, and a long-overdue nap. When you drowsily blinked back into consciousness, it was early afternoon, the sun still high up in the cloudless sky. A part of you wondered how you hadn’t just slept through the entire day.

You cleaned yourself up and changed into loose loungewear, heading down a story of the yacht, where you caught sight of the Roy siblings hanging by the pool (minus Connor, who was discussing matters of the play).

Roman waved at you limply. “Hey, sleeping beauty. You were knocked out for a while. I poked you in all your ticklish spots and you didn’t even stir.”

With a sigh, you curled yourself up into the cushioned spot beside him, Shiv on your other side. On her right was Tom, who had his gaze trained on Greg on the other side of the pool—the Roy’s cousin was… getting his toes looked at by the medic? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t quite want to know.

“You know, if you snuck into my room while I’m asleep and prodded me like a corpse, at least don’t fess up to it. You weirdo,” you said once you finally tore your gaze away from Greg, wrinkling your nose at Rome fondly.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” Roman whistled, to which Shiv let out a loud groan of complaint. 

Sloshing water from the pool drew your attention to Kendall. “You good, Y/N? Sorry about—if I was, like, insensitive earlier—”

“It’s fine,” you quickly replied. “They were never going to shoot us, anyway. It was all just… theatrics.”

Theatrics. Puppets and strings.

Kendall smiled loosely. 

“So, uh, how was DC?” you asked the older man as he leaned against the rim of the pool. “They had it on the TV for a bit when we were waiting to give our pitch.”

He nodded, water dripping from his hair. “Yeah, it was—it was pretty fucking real.”

“You did good,” Roman chirped, adjusting the sunglasses on his nose. 

Scoffing, Kendall shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. And what? I did good for—for a crackhead? For a moron on crack?” His voice was lilting with incredulity.

“Nope. You did good, Ken,” he said.

Shiv nodded. “Yeah. You killed it.”

Kendall wasn’t used to genuine praise from his siblings. It was usually edged with an insult, laced with sarcasm or ire. 

“It was Tom that, uh… that didn’t really persuade everyone quite as well,” you said, sending an apologetic grimace to Shiv’s fiance.

“You’re being too nice. He shat his pants and puked all over the floor,” Roman huffed with an amused smile. 

Tom pulled a cross face. “I didn’t—!” He drew in a sharp breath. “You know, a lot of people are saying I was deadcatting. Yeah. So like—dead cat on the table. Everyone’s looking at this dead cat, and not… not talking about your dad.”

Shiv pursed her lips. “Right. Sure, yeah, you drew the fire. Yeah.”

Both you and Roman exchanged humored looks. 

“So, what’s going on with Rhea? She’s out, right?” Roman asked a beat later.

“Mhm. Melted. But she’s agreed not to say anything publicly until after the shareholder meeting,” said Shiv.

You briefly wondered why she backed away, but chalked it up to immense financial risk and potential ethical demise of her career. Good for her. 

“Instead of Rhea, whose big hairy foot is going to slip into the glass slipper?” Roman queried. “Washington Ken here?”

His older brother clambered out of the pool, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. “Me? Uh, no. Nope. I mean—Rome, you brought the golden goose home.”

The two of you frowned at the same time. Roman let out a loud sigh.

“Could be anyone,” you said. “We’re right back to square one.”

“Yeah. Could be. I mean, why is Greg here?” Kendall shot a look over his shoulder to glance at his cousin, peering between his own toes.

Roman snorted. “I always ask that question.” Then, he patted your thigh and leaned against you, enjoying the warmth of your skin against his. “I did think—you know, when I thought they were going to vacuum out my innards and fill me with concrete or something—like… if we come through this, is there a thing where we, like, talk to each other about stuff? Normally?”

In a strange alien-baby voice, Shiv mocked, “You wanna twalk to each other nwormally?”

Kendall snickered and tacked on, “You wanna twalk abwout the big shit?”

“Yeah, let’s twalk abwout the big shit!”

“We can talk about—our feewings!”

The siblings joking around for a rare moment reminded you of when you were all younger, with missing teeth and scraped knees. When Shiv’s hair would still be done up in a ponytail and yours would be twisted into pigtails. Simpler times—when things weren’t all that simple but you, in your blissful ignorance, had thought they were. 

Though you really didn’t want to laugh, you tried your best to smother down a chuckle, making Roman send you a betrayed glare. 

“Wow. Really? You, too?” He lightly shoved you away, and you and Shiv burst into a fit of giggles when you knocked into her. “How am I the most mature one here?”

“Sowwy, Wome,” you crooned in the same alien-baby voice. He kicked at your foot, then hooked his leg over yours.

The laughter dulled away when the whirring of helicopter blades descended over the yacht.

Logan was here.

“Emotional gunship incoming,” said Kendall.

“Yeah. Send out the distress signal,” Shiv added, the smile on her lips fading away as she looked up to see her father fly down. “We’re under attack.”

Logan was smiling. It wasn’t often that he smiled. 

He greeted you with a chaste kiss to the cheek, and Roman with a pat to the shoulder. It was warm in the light—brief, but warm nonetheless.

When he hoarded the two of you, along with bum-boys Laird and Karl into a separate room, he immediately asked, “Are you two alright? I heard it got a bit tasty.”

Tasty wasn’t exactly the right word for it, you thought. 

“Mmh, we’re fine. I’ve had worse experiences at hotels before,” Roman languidly commented, shrugging it off. 

Logan tilted his head. “Did they look after you? I spoke to the White House.”

“Someone came and told us there was a warship,” you said, pursing your lips. “Felt a bit extreme.”

“Knowing us gun-handy Americans, I bet it was already there,” Roman snorted, pouring himself a drink. “The ambassador took us for a shitty lunch—you know, sorry that you were held at gunpoint, have a cheese sandwich.”

Logan gestured for all of you to take a seat. “So… on the money. What’s the situation?”

“The kids did great,” said Laird, which made Roman audibly gag. “I think, Mr. Roy, you’ll be able to go private. Eduard and his father have titular responsibility for the sovereign wealth but the president’s daughter’s husband, Zeynal, is the key guy now. The two of ‘em killed it with him.”

Shrugging, Roman said, “Well, it was clear Eduard was getting sidelined. Zeynal figured out who we were, and I thought we were gonna be taken to get a fucking chainsaw massage but… nope. We had an hour, we pitched hard, and they said they wanted in.”

“Too modest,” Laird emphasized, brows raising. “This is the perfect opportunity.”

It wasn’t. It never was.

Karl went on to talk about the numbers, and Logan seemed quite pleased. 

“That’s great. That’s fucking fantastic!” announced Roman’s father.

Rome bit down on the inside of his cheek. He winced, and scratched at his head.

“I just… I do have to say one thing, dad…”

Panic flashed across Laird’s eyes. “Roman, we’re good.”

Ignoring him, Roman said, “I mean, we had a good talk with Zeynal and he said, with his mouth, that he wanted in and that’s great and all… but if this is really serious for us, I think I actually do have to say that it feels like it’s… probably horseshit.”

A beat of silence.

Laird’s eyes twitched.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Yeah, I just wanna make it clear that they said they wanted in, but didn’t sign anything yet. I mean, it’s not like we had any documents on hand but… words mean nothing. Uncle Logan, I don’t know if it’s… really smart to bank the entire future of the company on words of drug-addled men taking a piss out of you.”

Logan’s brows raised.

“It was flaky,” Roman added. “There was a lot of shit going on.”

The head man glanced at Karl, who remained deathly quiet, and then back to you. 

“Roman, they want to rebalance their portfolio for, uh, for a variety of geopolitical reasons,” began Laird. “It’s very European-focused, and he wants to tilt Western Hemisphere. It’s all very logical! I know that it’s a lot of money, and that can be very scary, but it makes sense.”

“All due respect, Laird, but I really don’t think they give a shit about adding us to their portfolio,” you said, voice hesitant. “They know we’re in debt. They know we’re in hot water with a large sector of the company. Why would they want in at all, much less hand over a ten billion dollar investment like it’s nothing?”

Roman sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry that we’re worrying our pretty little heads, Laird, but if they’re rebalancing their portfolio, it’d be fucking insane to do it over one ten-bil mega deal like it’s nothing.”

“Yeah, it’d be more sensible that they invest into several different markets around the globe,” you agreed. “None of this feels right.”

“It doesn’t matter what it feels like,” stressed Laird. “They said yes!”

With a frown, Roman retorted back, “Maybe, sure, they said yes! And there’s a ten or twenty percent chance that you’d make, like, a hundred million bucks with this deal. That’s so exciting! But if we miss, we could be fucked.”

Logan’s expression was hard to read. Anger? Disbelief? Disappointment? Acceptance? You couldn’t quite tell.

Swallowing hard, you said, “If we go through with this and none of it turns out to be real, we’d go straight over the edge. No votes, no political gain, no money.”

Finally, Logan murmured, “If it falls halfway through, it’d be terminal.”

A vein popped out on Laird’s head. “But if it works… just one step forward, and you’d be free.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Free from what? Just because we go private doesn’t mean we can do fuck all.”

Before Laird could argue back, Logan fixed his stare onto Roman. “Son?” he asked.

“Dad, I have to say, I’ve done a little bullshitting in my time—and Zenyal was a cokey, lying, 3 AM scotch and see-you-in-the-morning man. He won’t follow through.”

With a frustrated groan, Laird angrily got up from his seat.

Roman shook his head. “Dad, I wish it was real. I really fucking do. But it’s not—and we have to step away.”

When Logan turned his stare onto you, you nodded in agreement with Roman. 

“Karl?” your godfather asked.

The man buckled under the scrutiny. “You can’t lean on this,” he said. “Not now.”

His mind finally made, Logan got up onto his feet. “I’m sorry, Jaime. Keep exploring, keep talking. I cannot pile my chips on something that isn’t solid.”

“Excellent,” sighed Jaime. He looked at you, then at Roman. “You wanna talk solid? Maybe take a look at your kid there. Does he sound solid to you? And—thanks for the support, Karl. I hope you enjoy the king’s favors, because you know what you’re looking at if you don’t go private. Someone has to pay the price. Someone is going to go to jail, and I won’t be around to see it.”

With that, he dramatically took his leave. Roman tilted his head back and rolled his eyes.

“I wanna do the best thing. The most decent thing,” said Logan. His hand was on your shoulder for a moment, before he pulled away. “Tomorrow we’ll get into a discussion about our missteps and how we can indicate how sorry we are to the rest of the world. Get some rest, the both of you.”

As you clambered into bed, Roman unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it somewhere behind him. He’d followed you into the cabin, claiming that there were no available cabins left—and you knew he was lying, because you’d passed by several empty rooms on the way to yours, but you didn’t bother to protest.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“You know, I overheard Tom and Shiv speaking to each other,” you said as you fluffed up a pillow to lay on. 

“Ooh. Is Tom the one getting shitcanned? No surprise there,” Roman replied, crawling next to you and laid down on his stomach, head resting on his crossed arms. 

“No. I mean, I don’t actually know who it’ll be, but—” You paused to smile, near-childish laughter falling from your lips. “I heard Tom saying he was excited for a threesome.”

“Ew! What? Ew! Tell me more,” Roman exclaimed, swatting at your arms and you shoved him back, laughing at his tone. “Oh, that’s so gross. Never pegged Tom as the type.”

“I don’t think it was Tom’s idea.”

“Ew!”

The two of you giggled about it some more, before you lolled your head over to face him. 

“Do you think it could be me?” you quietly asked. “Would Logan throw me to the sharks?”

Roman hummed. “Sometimes it feels like he likes you better than any of his own fucking kids. You’re not getting canned. It won’t make sense.”

“Hm.”

He threw an arm over your stomach. “But… it won’t be me, right?”

“I don’t know, Rome,” you told him honestly. “After today… I just don’t know. But I’ve got your back.”

The two of you basked in the comfort of each other’s quiet for a brief moment. You scooched closer to him and shut your eyes.

“You’re a really good friend, Rome.”

Something akin to an amused snort fell from his lips. “Pfft. Friend. I don’t think friends jerk off to the sound of each other’s voices. You’ve had your hand on my dick. Is that what friends do these days?”

“Friends with benefits, then.”

He brushed his lips along your shoulder, light as a feather, barely there. There was a strange ache in his chest. An ache that you also felt. The two of you ached together, unknowingly. 

“Hm. I like the sound of that. It’s like you’re my personal whore.”

“It’s a two-way street.”

“Yeah. You fuck me, I fuck you. You kill me, I kill you. Like they do in Germany.”

There it was again. What was with Roman and Germany?

“Sure. Like they do in Germany.”

It was hard to stomach breakfast with your restless nerves shooting adrenaline through your veins. You anxiously plowed through two apples and started on your third just when Logan stepped onto the lower level. Everybody’s attention piqued, their heads turning, postures stiffening up against the chairs around the dining table. 

When Gerri tentatively asked him who he had in mind as the sacrificial lamb, Logan waved her away.

“Enough. We stick together, alright? Most things don’t exist. The Ford motor company hardly exists—it’s just a time-saving expression for a collection of financial interests. But this exists, because…”

Roman leaned in close to mockingly whisper, “Family.”

“Family,” Logan finished. “We are a family. And so that’s why I think… I think the obvious choice is me.”

A ripple of shock coursed through the small group. Your eyes narrowed, unsure of what game Logan was playing at now.

“No,” Shiv vehemently said. “What? Dad, you—you can’t.”

Logan tilted his head. It wasn’t often he was told that he couldn’t. “Well, I may not be responsible, but the buck has to stop somewhere.”

The rest of the group erupted in protests. Tom, Kendall, Frank. They were all bleating sheep. Roman rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t work,” Kendall elaborated. “When people find out Rhea isn’t coming in, we’d need stability. From you.”

Logan raised a single finger. “I need one meaningful skull to wave.” Wave didn’t seem quite the appropriate term. Chop off, maybe. Sever was a good one. “If the shareholders’ meeting was tomorrow, we lose. I need to persuade a number of big figures. So… would anyone like to say anything?”

Crackling silence. Across the table, Greg popped a fat green grape into his mouth.

“I’ll take care of whoever it is,” said Logan. “No one will be forgotten.”

Clearing his throat, Kendall ventured out, “Well, I mean, if we’re doing this, I don’t wanna spread shit around. We’re all loyal servants here. But, uh, I say this without malice aforethought, presumably, uhm, general counsel is the center of the web. Sorry, Gerri. I like you, I do.”

Logan reached out to put his hand over the blonde woman’s. “There is no one more loyal than Gerri,” he said, effectively dismissing the idea.

But you saw right through him. It wasn’t about Gerri’s loyalty. She wasn’t a big enough cut. 

“What about Frank?” Roman offered. Everyone was well aware of his disdain for the older man. “How come Frank is even here today?”

Full of ire, Logan’s old friend nodded his head. “Thanks, Roman. I see it. I could take it. I mean, I make sense.”

“Yeah. And after what he did to you? The whole boardroom coup?” Roman lifted a shoulder, convinced that Frank was the most obvious choice.

“Water under the bridge.” Logan brushed away once more. Still not big enough.

After a long while of stammering, Frank finally coughed out, “I would say objectively, considering my, uh, my indiscretion against the family makes me a less compelling sacrifice. Unlike—uhm, for instance, a loyal servant like Karl.”

Instead of defending himself, Karl decided to turn the blade right back around to Gerri. “My thing is, I guess, if Rhea is no more, then sadly, we’re back to having Gerri as named successor. So that fattens her up for the kill, in my opinion.”

“Everyone knows I was just a name on a piece of paper,” defended the woman, laughing incredulously.

“Oh, don’t put yourself down. I think you were always more than that,” scoffed Karl. “And, you know, the old copy book is a bit blotty. Expense accounts… daughter’s first class on the company coin…”

“Karl sounds good!” Tom chimed in. “Sausage thief,” he bitterly muttered, in reference to the entire Boar on the Floor debacle in Hungary.

“Gerri is theoretically kind of perfect,” said Connor.

“No,” Roman was quick to protest. “Nope. That’s bullshit. I disagree.”

Propping his joined hands on the table, Logan asked, “Why?”

“Why? Because that’s my opinion,” Roman said in a defensive manner.

“Yeah… but your reasoning?”

With a hasty glance to you, Roman hastily spun out, “Seriously, Gerri? To pay for cruises? We, what, we take out our senior woman? Haven’t we, you know—kidding, here, but—killed enough women already?”

“It’d look orchestrated. Gerri is just too obvious,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Sexual misconduct cases three decades ago, and we’d be placing the blame on general counsel and simply wiping our hands clean? Not to mention it’d just make Waystar look more… anti-women if we went down that route.”

Roman nodded. “Listen, I think the obvious choice here is, and I hate to say it because he’s such a swell guy, but—” he made a whistling noise and pointed to the man sitting across from him, “Tom.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you're the head of cruises, man.”

Kendall pursed his lips. “I gotta agree with Rome here. Tom, I fucking love you dude, but you shat the bed over Mo Lester.”

“But I was sent in there as the fucking beating man—I took the fucking beating!” 

Shiv shook the back of her head, making no effort to defend her husband.

“You got suckered in by Eavis,” said Kendall.

“I answered the questions!”

“You don’t answer the questions. Okay? That’s, like, rule one.” Kendall patted his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I’m not beating up on you here, I’m just saying that he got a win off you and you’re kinda the face of this now.”

Lifting her head up high, Shiv said, “Tom looks logical. Cruises, document destruction. It’d be laid out for us.”

Tom’s gaze swiveled to his wife, expression utterly torn. “What?” he croaked out.

“I’m not saying you should be,” the red-head defended. “But I’m just saying you’re like family, but you’re not… actually family, which is also good. Tom, it’s the elephant in the room. We can say that!”

“No, we can’t! There’s absolutely no need to speak of the elephant in the room! There’s fifteen other fucking elephants in this room!” With an angry scoff, Tom threw both his hands up. “If you want someone who’s family but not family, what about Y/N?”

Immediately, Roman let out a high-pitched, “No! Why would it—why the fuck should it be her?”

Tom’s face contorted under the scrutiny. “I don’t know. General manager of Waystar, and goddaughter to Logan sounds like a good fucking steak to throw to the lions.” At your confused expression, Tom quickly backed down. “I’m not actually saying Y/N. I’m just saying things! It just—it shouldn’t be me. What about you, huh, Shiv?”

“Okay, fine. How do I work?” she hissed out. 

“I don’t know!” Tom exclaimed, his voice raising a few notches in volume.

Gerri pursed her lips to the side and mentioned, “I mean, if we’re saying Shiv, we could highlight witness tampering and, uh, that she was going to take over but—I don’t know, it probably wouldn’t work.”

Shiv reared back as if she’d been stung. “Uh, yeah. Too fucking right it wouldn’t work. I don’t make sense, I’ve never been inside.”

“What about both of them? Shiv and Tom? Beauty and the beast,” Roman said.

“Does Tom work?” Logan asked. “Alone?”

A long beat of silence. 

In all honesty, you thought he’d work. The missing documents were more than enough to go off of. 

But Kendall shook his head, and it flew right out the window. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s a big enough skull. No offense.”

“Then how about Tom with some fucking… Greg sprinkles?” Roman asked, gesturing to his cousin, who’d managed to polish off all the grapes on the tray. One of the workers floated by to take the tray away, no doubt to fill it back up again.

“Greg sprinkles?” parroted Greg.

Wincing, you apologetically added, “I mean, you did destroy those documents for Tom, no? It’s—it's an aided crime. It works.”

Connor laughed. “Elmo and Big Bird. I could start to see that, yeah. You could throw in a Karl or a Frank, and you’re golden.”

“What—what precisely are Greg sprinkles?” asked the Roy cousin.

“Greg sprinkles are basically a fantastic garnish for practically anyone seated at this table,” Roman replied with a faux warm smile. “Like a Tom sundae with a little Greg cherry on top.” He popped his lips and Greg frowned.

“No, I object. I do. I mean—I’m more than a sprinkle! What about you, huh? What about Roman?”

“Roman?” you asked, cocking a brow. “How would he be a good candidate?”

“Well, he’s widely known as a terrible person!”

Roman snorted. “Thanks, Toe Jam.”

“There’s another elephant in the room,” Connor interrupted. “What about I just throw myself over the side, huh?”

Shiv laughed quietly, hiding her smile behind her palm.

“Yeah, just—in return for a payout. I’m cash strapped, so just lock me into that sweet, sweet golden parachute and toss me in the volcano!” said the oldest Roy sibling. On he blathered, about how he should be the one to take the fall.

Logan glanced around. “That’s… that’s kind of you, Con. Thank you. We’ll bear it in mind.” He smiled, but it wasn’t quite authentic. It wasn’t real. Connor slumped back, going largely ignored once again.

With that, Logan stood up. “We have half an idea but… yeah. Let’s do this later.”

Off he went, through the glass doors, gone to God knows where.

You and Roman exchanged a look. His was one of relief and gratitude, yours was one of exasperation. Then, Roman leaned forward to snatch the tray of grapes away from Greg, and offered a branch of the plump green fruits to you. 

Dinner left a stale taste in your mouth. Maybe it was because you weren’t particularly fond of the served courses. Maybe it was because of the rocking motions of the boat upsetting your stomach. Or maybe—maybe it was because Logan had finally chosen his sacrificial lamb.

Kendall stood beside his father with pursed lips. Logan nodded to the sitting group. “I’ve decided,” he simply said.

Incredulity danced across Roman’s expression, brows raised. “Ken?” he asked. “Come on, really? Dad, you—no. There’s… what about the… one of the other shitfuckers?”

Your eyes darted from your godfather, to Kendall, who took a seat across from you. He met your eyes, if only for a brief moment. A part of you felt bad for him—after all, to you he was always going to be the eight-year-old boy draped in a suit far too large for him, practicing a speech in front of the mirror for a nameless award he was going to accept one day. He’d make you and Roman sit down and listen to him, four and five years of age, expectantly turning to the two of you after he was done and asking if it sounded okay. Desperate for approval, even if the assurance came from two young kids with missing teeth and bored eyes.

He was practically your brother. You averted your gaze with mild shame burning within your chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” said Kendall. He looked around the table. “You’re all off the hook.”

Roman leaned forward and asked, uncharacteristically genuine, “You okay?”

Wordless, Kendall nodded. He was trying his best to stave away the frown tugging at the corners of his lips. There were tears warbling over his irises. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good.” 

But he wasn’t. Roman knew, and you knew, too.

Karl cleared his throat. “Is it just… I don’t wanna be rude here—is it just him?”

Gerri tilted her head. “First—uh, second-born son—with his responsibilities, it wouldn’t be a hard sell.”

“Roman,” said Logan. “You’re taking over as full chief operating officer.”

An indignant noise fell from his throat. “Yeah? What with Captain Cautious back in the other room?” 

“No, no. Frank’s going to be responsible for the cruises clean up. You’re on your own. Solo.” Logan stared at his youngest son. “Can you handle it?”

Beneath the table, Roman’s jostling knee bumped into yours. “Yeah,” he unenthusiastically said. “That’s really exciting.”

Kendall spared his little brother a lopsided smile. “No, Rome. It’s great. For real.” Then, he raised a fork. “Eat up, guys. This one’s on me.”

Day three on the boat. You woke up to Roman’s arms wrapped around your midriff, his face buried in the fabric over your chest. He sleepily mumbled and whined when you dragged yourself (and, effectively, him as well, seeing as he refused to let go of you) out of bed. The two of you brushed your teeth together before you promptly kicked him out of your room so you could take a quick shower in peace.

By the time the both of you got down to have breakfast, Greg was the one to tell you that Kendall had left earlier in the morning. 

“Right to his slaughter,” you mumbled to Rome, who’s face twisted with guilt.

An hour later, you were watching Kendall on the television. Shiv and Logan were on the couches, and Roman had both his hands resting on your shoulders, kneading your muscles as if you were a stress ball.

“I have been asked to explain my role in the management of illegality at the firm and associated cover ups. And it has been suggested that I would be a suitable figure to absorb the anger and concern,” said screen Kendall. To your surprise, his words were followed by, “But…”

You and Roman exchanged glances. He stopped working at your shoulders and crossed his arms. 

“The truth is that my father is a malignant presence. He is a liar, a bully, and was fully aware of the events that had transpired on the cruise ships for many years, and made efforts to hide and cover up. He had a twisted sense of loyalty to bad actors like Lester McClintock, and a disregard for the safety of migrant workers, union and non-union workers, along with vulnerable performers and guests.”

“Fuck me,” Roman whispered. Logan silently lifted a finger to his lips to shush him.

The Kendall on screen was vastly different to the puppet Kendall you’d come to know for the past few months. He’d finally broken free of his strings.

“My father keeps a watchful eye over his entire empire, and the notion that he would have allowed millions of dollars of settlements and compensation to be paid without his explicit approval is utterly fanciful. I have with me today copies of records that show his personal sign-off. How much those of us who executed his wishes bear responsibility is for another day.” 

Shiv briefly twisted around to shoot you an utterly dumbfounded look, as if to ask you if you’d known he was going to do this. You sent her an equally befuddled expression.

“But I think…” said Kendall, “This is the day his reign ends.”

With that, Kendall got up and walked off to the side, out of the camera’s view. You couldn’t see it, for Logan was facing the screen, but there was a slight smile on your godfather’s face.

#roman roy x reader #roman roy fanfiction #roman roy smut #roman roy fluff #roman roy series #roman roy ff #roman roy angst #roman roy x you #roman roy fanfic #succession roman #succession roman x reader #roman roy #succession fanfiction #succession x reader #roman roy imagine

[little-diable]

Lies, nothing but lies - Dean Winchester (smut)

This is pure filth really, but at least there's a little bit of plot as well (not much tho lol). Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader have been friends since childhood, the reason why neither of them ever addressed their crush on the other. When a hunt gone wrong forces her confession out of the reader, Dean finds himself drawing back. But there was no escaping, all thanks to some strange, powdery substance.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected piv, sex pollen, choking, sloppy oral (m), slight breeding kink, friends to lovers, a small rejection though happy end, typical SPN setting

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.7k words)

A gasp rippled through (y/n) as she opened her eyes, slowly adjusting to the darkness that surrounded her, wondering where she was. She tried to move around, though without any luck, bound to the chair as if she was a sacrifice that would find its end in Death’s cold arms any moment now.

“Fuck, Dean? Sammy?” She whispered the names of her hunting partners, hoping that they were close. But she was met with nothing but silence, a silence so thick, (y/n) feared she may never speak another word again. Her eyes fluttered close as she tried to remember what had happened, it took her a few seconds till the memories found their way back to her like the tide rolling back in.

She had stayed behind in the motel, needing to catch up on some sleep as the brothers went out to speak to a few neighhours, hoping that somebody had seen or heard something. It had taken them hours to figure out new details, convinced that this was the sloppy work of a werewolf, but yet (y/n) had been stupid, leaving the motel after a few minutes of trying to fall asleep though miserably failing. She should have waited for them, should have trusted the funny feeling in her gut, but it had been too late the second darkness had swallowed her whole, trapping her.

Once again (y/n) tried to shuffle around, trying to reach the pocketknife she always carried around with her. Heavy breaths left her, eyes squeezed shut to try and collect all her strength, freezing as she heard the sound of heavy steps echoing through the air. Fuck, she’d have to be quick, she’d have to collect all her strength, trying to fight her way out of this mess.

Her heart longed for Dean, knowing that he’d fight side by side with her, sticking to the woman that had been around for years. They were one, one team, one heart, one soul, though without ever addressing the palpable tension between them. 

“(Y/n)? Sweetheart?” The sound of an all too familiar voice ripped her out of the wave of sadness threatening to pull her under. “Fuck, of course she’s not here. I’ll kill that motherfucker with my own two hands.” 

“Dean! I’m here! Sammy!” Her vocal chords ached from the strength she used to call out to the two brothers, hoping that they’d hear her. (Y/n) kept calling, listening to the sound of their steps, seemingly moving closer with every passing second. 

“(Y/n)?” Sam’s voice rang in her ears, forcing a relieved gasp out of her. A cry left her, luring the two closer till they finally reached her. Dean cupped her cheek as he crouched in front of her, holding her close, letting Sam cut her free. She tumbled into Dean’s arms, inhaling the comforting scent she’d always felt recognise no matter how long they’d be apart. “Shh, we’ve got you, my brave girl, you’re okay.”

……

“Don’t look away, I’m not done yet.” Dean’s soft words filled the small motel bathroom, hands cupping her cheeks as he cleaned her scratches. She had her legs wrapped around his middle, keeping him close, not yet ready to part from him.

Her heart raced at the mere thought of ever missing a moment like this with Dean. Her life had no meaning without Dean in it, needing him to guide her, the one her heart needed to survive. 

“Dean?” A hum left him, allowing her to keep on talking. Dean was oblivious to the racing of her heart, not picking up on the sounds the strong muscle created as it skipped beats. Her nervousness flushed through her veins, body forcing her to keep on moving, searching his closeness like she should have done years ago already. “Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her gaze flickered between his eyes and his plush lips, momentarily distracted by the freckles she kept counting like sand collected in a glass, trying to keep memories bottled in to never forget them. His breaths got quicker, accelerating with every passing moments.

“I can’t, sweetheart.” His words made her breath hitch in her chest, staring at him with wide eyes for a few seconds before she slowly nodded her head, murmuring a soft “Of course.” (Y/n) gave Dean a small push, needing to get some distance between him and herself before he could notice the tears welling up in her eyes.

His hand found her wrist, stopping (y/n) from stumbling out of the bathroom. The sight of Dean was slightly blurred by her tears, making her feel even more pathetic as his sad smile grew clearer. Dean studied her for a few seconds, slowly letting go of her. “I wish I could, but I can’t risk our friendship, not when it’s the only good thing I can have all too myself.” 

“It’s alright, Dean. I uhm, I’ll try to get some sleep in.” He watched her leave the bathroom with trembling fingers, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn’t pick up on the tears welling up in his forest green eyes, didn’t hear the silent curses leaving him nor the sound of his hands angrily meeting the cold surface of the counter she had been sitting on. 

(Y/n) didn’t pick up on anything, but the quiet sobs clawing through her, making her heart clench in her chest.

……

“Careful!” Dean’s arms found it’s way around her waist before (y/n) could stumble over the step, eyes meeting his to communicate a quiet “Thank you”. The tension between the two had something uncomfortable to it, not yet over the conversation they’ve shared in the small bathroom days ago. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if he should have given in, ending up in a situation by far more pleasing than whatever this was, while (y/n) still cursed her exhausted self for acting like she had never done before and probably never will again.

“I’ll check out the rooms upstairs.” She had moved up the stairs before Dean could say another thing, moving through the unfamiliar house. Another case was keeping them on their toes, wondering who they were dealing with, but the things they now stumbled upon in their very house screamed “witch”, making them more uncomfortable than they’d ever admit.

(Y/n) combed through the empty rooms, opening boxes, shelves, whatever she could find. Before she could leave the upstairs area, moving back down to the man she tried to avoid like the plague, her eyes caught on a golden, small box. She moved closer, not hearing the sound of Dean’s heavy boots meeting the wooden steps, luring him closer.

“What’s that?” His voice made her jump, box crashing to the ground before she could catch it. A powdery substance now littered the ground, forcing curses out of (y/n) as she crouched down to push the substance back into the box. Dean wordlessly started helping her, eyes not daring to meet her angry ones. “I didn’t find anything, maybe we should try and see if we can find something online about the weird drawings we saw.”

“Alright, let’s go.” (Y/n) followed Dean outside, ignoring the heat simmering inside of her, threatening to take over her system. No words were spoken between the two as Dean started driving back, wiping away the drops of sweat pooling on his forehead, making him wonder why he was suddenly feeling all this hot.

“Dean?” His name left her, a sound torn between a cry and a moan, leaving his eyes to snap towards her. She was struggling just as much as he was, forcing him to tighten his grip on the steering wheel. “Fuck, I’m so hot. Open the windows, please.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, sweetheart.” Both pondered over his words a few seconds, clinging to the quietness filling the Impala. “It was that fucking powder, shit, Sammy told me about this a while ago.”

“What is it? Will it kill us?” Her voice trembled, hands snapping into action to undo the first buttons of the jacket she was wearing, close to ripping her shirt open. Dean’s hand found her thigh, fingers dipping into her skin, forcing her to stop moving. 

“They’re called sex pollen, you have to fuck them out of your system, otherwise they’ll kill you.” A groan left Dean, mind creating vivid pictures of (y/n)'s naked frame pressed against his, how she’d mewl his name, begging him to fuck her harder. Dean had imagined this for countless times, fucking his hand to the thought of her naked frame, imagines he clung to, very well knowing that he’d never touch her, not daring to ruin his oldest and closest friendship. Lies, nothing but lies. 

“What? You’re joking! That can’t be true, what should we do?” A whimper left (y/n) as Dean’s hand started moving up her thigh, slowly, since his mind was trying to fight his body’s urges. Baby came to a halt in front of the motel, forcing the two into the room they shared. Dean couldn’t help but thank whoever was listening that Sam hadn’t joined them on this hunt, staying in the bunker for the time being. 

“I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but I’ve got something to take care of.” She looked at him with big eyes for a few seconds, well aware of the way his hardening cock pressed against the tight fabric of his trousers, forming an uncomfortable bulge. No words left her as (y/n) leaped at him, lips finding his as her mind was silenced by the pollen taking over the last bits of her system, guiding her every movement. 

Dean welcomed the kiss with a moan clawing through him, hands finding their way to her jeans, undoing the button with quick movements, set on undressing her. Both parted from one another to rip their clothes off their bodies, only left in their underwear, a sight that left them both breathless, fingers aching to feel one another. 

“I need your cock, anything, please Dean, it burns so much.” Her body was aching for his touch, wanting to feel him buried inside of her, desires fuelled by the pollen that worked like a drug on her system. Dean pushed her down on the bed, ripping her panties down her legs as she worked on her bra, a sight Dean didn’t allow himself to get lost in, needing to work quickly. His cock was twitching, leaking precum, laced with a desire so strong, he feared he’d pass out any moment now.

With his hand wrapped around his cock, Dean pushed the tip through her slit, coating himself with her arousal before he pushed into her. Both moaned in unison, eyes rolling back to give room to the darkness swapping through their systems. Dean fucked her without any mercy holding him back, hand finding its way to her throat, pinning her down as his other hand clung to the bedframe. 

It felt as if both had been needing to feel this for months, perhaps even years, a longing that had been nothing more than a daydream they’d try to escape from, at least till this very moment. Their bodies fit together perfectly, moving in sync as they tried to stop the heat that kept on flushing through them. 

Both were too far gone to speak, unable to produce anything but moans and groans, sinful words that rippled through them. Her orgasm moved closer quickly, flushing through her before she could stop her body from giving in, but Dean didn’t stop moving, not nearly as done as she was. 

Her body kept calling out to his, the heat still thumped through her veins, almost as strong as it had been before her first orgasm of the night. Their eyes met, hers hazy and confused, Dean’s twinkling with joy, excitement, and the pride he wasn’t able to swallow down. Even though he couldn’t guide his body, having to trust his instincts, he couldn’t deny that he loved seeing her like this, moaning for him, fucked out within a few moments. 

“I need to fill you up, want to fuck you full with my cum.” His words forced another moan out of her, body not satisfied just yet. Their hearts kept jumping, her arm found its way around his neck, pulling Dean in for another kiss. They were a mess of tangled limbs, tongues, and digits, a mess so perfect, they never wanted to free themselves from it.

Dean kept staring down on her as his hand disappeared between their bodies, rubbing her already overstimulated pulsing bundle of nerves with a smirk tugging on his lips. Her moans were everything but quiet, loud enough to ring in his ears like a cry of help in the quiet night would. 

“Cum inside of me Dean, please, I want it, want it so badly.” Her words were slurred, giving Dean the last push he needed to tumble over the edge, cum painting her walls white as a heavy groan left him. Slow thrusts kept pushing his cock into her heat, cock still hard and twitching, needing to chase another high before they’d feel somewhat satisfied. 

Without another warning Dean pulled out of her, flipping them around so that (y/n) had her face buried in the pillows, heavily groaning as he pushed back into her from behind. Their moans grew louder once again, dripping with pleasure and lust, an insatiable hunger they couldn’t still, all thanks to the pollen drugging their system.

“I should have fucked you sooner, fuck, I won’t ever let you go again, sweetheart, you belong to me, just like your body does.” Dean spoke his words with his jaw clenched and his teeth pressed together, still rushing along the waves of pleasure that made them tremble. (Y/n) could only groan, sobbing his name with squeezed together eyes, fingers digging into the fabric of the pillow. 

Her walls kept fluttering around his cock, ready to give in again, shaking fingers finding their way to her aching clit. Within seconds she was pushed over the edge again, finally letting go of the heat that had forced her to keep on going, allowing her body to somewhat relax. 

Dean stared down on her for a few seconds, hips still snapping against her behind before he pulled out of her, groaning a throaty “I need your mouth, sweetheart”. With tired though excited eyes staring up at Dean, (y/n) shuffled around, allowing him to abuse her mouth, forcing his cock deep down her throat.

She gagged for him, instantly making a mess with saliva dripping from her lips and chin. (Y/n) clung to him, corners of her mouth burning within moments, and yet she couldn’t help but moan for more, eyes rolling back into her head with every rough thrust. Her moans vibrated on his skin, forcing Dean to keep on going, adding to the speed of his thrusts to push himself over the edge again.

He came with a heavy groan, curses rolling off his tongue as he filled her cheeks. His hand found her hair, tilting her head back, watching tears run down her cheeks. 

“Fuck, are you okay, sweetheart?” A tired hum left (y/n), finding comfort against his chest, pulled closer with his hands holding onto her waist. His hand ran up and down her spine, forcing goosebumps to rise on her skin, not wanting to break out of this state just yet. “Listen, sweetheart, about what I’ve said-"

“It’s okay, Dean, you don’t have to explain yourself.” She slowly pulled back, at least she tried to, though without any luck. Dean kept holding her close, lips finding hers before she could speak another word. 

“I was stupid, just scared to ruin our friendship. But I can’t let you again, if you still want me.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester x reader

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Listen, don’t tell canon Sukuna hold your back from delulu. But what if .. what if he lost someone?

Someone that was killed and whose weakness was they loved him? Like his s/o murdered in retaliation for his actions?

The shame and the guilt that he felt and that was the first and last time Sukuna let love distract him. I imagine a more naive Sukuna… during his youth and maybe not as established as a national menace.

I mean his s/o would be accepting of his actions and views but they found home in his heart because they loved him for him and not his power uwu

oh my god, anon your brain is so wrinkled and beautiful. (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Sukuna would have been convinced he was unlovable if not for you. If not for your soft words and gentle touches. His childhood friend who saw past the feral boys snarls and found the soft puppy there underneath.

You never clipped his claws or filed down his fangs. No, quite the contrary, you sharpened them. You stood tall next to him as he eviscerated his abusers, and firmly behind him as he took what the world owed him. Due payment for the pain he was forced to endure.

You showed him a different kind of strength. One that couldn't be built through training and fighting. You showed an emotional strength he wished he had. The ability to not only understand, but to harness and control your emotions. A strength he coveted.

He thought he would keep you by his side forever. His Queen, His Darling, His Lover. His Love. In your arms was the only place he found peace. The only place where he could ever feel truly safe. Your arms were his home.

Maybe he shouldn't have shown you off so proudly. Maybe he should have never left home that day. Or maybe he never should have dragged you into any of this shit in the first place.

He when he thinks back on the event now he remembers it in flashes and feelings. Feelings he desperately wanted to run away from. He remembered the stiffening feeling of your blood on his hands as he tried to stop your bleeding. He remembered cursing the bastards for not even having the decency to make it quick.

He remembered how your eyes glossed over. He could still feel your icy hand on his cheek. Could still hear your whisper.

"Don't stop fighting my Love."

He remembered you going limp in his arms. Still feel his hands shake the way they did as he tried desperately to bring you back, please. please just come back you cant leave him like this. He remembered the clap of thunder that shook the palace when he realized you weren't coming back.

Or maybe that was his scream.

He hadn't felt much since then. The cold hard steel of indifference being far more favorable to him than the sharp poison of an open heart. Love was a fucking joke anyway. He couldn't believe he was so naive. So foolish as to let himself be dragged around by his cock, it was pathetic. Love was pathetic. Love was an inherent risk that he would never take again.

Still. Sometimes late at night, when the rain pours down and he's forced to remember if was your favorite kind of weather, he can't deny the now foreign feeling in his heart. When he closes his eyes its your perfectly sweet smile that visits him at night. and for just a second, he feels himself crumbling again.

And then he snaps out of it. He doesn't have time for love. He has to get back to fighting.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader angst #sukuna angst #hurt no comfort #angst #whats up nonny? #sukuna ryomen

[dearbraus]

Covered in the Colour of You ࿐

— Armin Arlert

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, cisfem reader (use of girl as reference to the reader), reader's hair gets combed through, reader wears a nightgown, post-canon exploration of characters and setting, reader is mentally ill (so is Armin), hunger as a metaphor for desire, love as consumption, love confessions, first times (Armin is a virgin, Reader is not), first kisses, sex on a table, some foreplay, unprotected sex, creampies, ambiguous ending, angst, hurt/some comfort, childhood friends to lovers. ⊹ Run time. 10k ⊹ Note. I don't know how we got here but I'm glad we did. This was meant to be a cute comfort fic to deal with the ending of Attack on Titan but it became so much more, I hope you enjoy.

❝A surprise visit from your childhood friend, Armin Arlert forces you to confront the feelings you've been harbouring for over a decade..❞

The Jägerist’s cries are deafening, they bounce off the clay brick walls of the surrounding houses and slither through your shuttered window panes. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the newly minted Paradis military regiment convenes in the small town square within the rebuilt city of Shiganshina. It took them just under a month to replace the fallen with green boys and girls who were just buzzing at the idea of honouring Eren Jäger and avenging his death. Once Paradis managed to secure the resources– if there were any left– you were certain that the military would erect a bronze statue of Paradis’ “saviour”. For now, they’d bother napping babies and the elderly folk who milled about the area to soak in some of the sun’s sweet warmth. 

Today they seemed to be reminding those who’d spare an ear to listen, that traitors would soon shore and with them came treasonous falsehoods. If not for Queen Historia who still harbours some morsel of affection for her old comrades, they’d be as good as dead the moment their ship docked. Word spread quickly, how you weren’t sure, but like wildfire the claim that Armin Arlert had been the one to kill Eren Jäger scorched the plains and further sowed the seeds of instability amongst the population. 

The irony of such a ludicrous statement was not lost on you. Armin Arlert couldn’t kill Eren Jäger, they were best friends and all of Shiganshina knew there could not be one without the other. You had known the two almost as long as they had known each other. Shiganshina wasn’t so big in those days, Grisha Jäger was the only doctor and Armin’s father was something of a handyman. They were who you called upon when something was amiss and you’d thank them with a warm meal or something sweet. That was what you did in those days, you showed kindness wherever you could. They were so simple, those days when the walls kept secrets and our minds were shrouded with ignorant bliss. Some mornings when you woke before the sun had yet risen, you wished Paradis could have remained tucked safely beneath the blanket King Fritz had pulled over the island. 

What little sense of communal affection remained dwindled with calls to action that erupted from the square.

This morning, the sense of longing that had settled between your lungs weighed heavily as you listened to the shouting. You wished the clock would turn back and the next time you woke, you’d be ten years old and the house you lived in would be your home. It was sort of a sick joke, to be given the keys to the house built upon the rubble of your family's home. Floch handed you the keys as if he had done you this great personal service when it had been Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and their friends who had dug through the wreckage to salvage the home they too had lost. Vagrancy was tiring and what little money you had to your name after years of working for meagre wages that just barely covered your expenses, maybe you should have been grateful to at least collect a few pieces of your life before even if they jagged and misshapen. Something was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

It had to be. 

There needed to be some reason for you to keep going. Lately, there didn’t seem to be any. Everything felt wrong. The once-cobbled streets were made of smooth even stone that allowed you to bounce around the city with ease, it reminded you of the capital. As a child, you often felt jealous that Wall Sina was home to such niceties while you were made to trip over protruding stones and wade through mud puddles in the wet months. Now though, you’d give anything for a semblance of a distant past that would make Shiganshina home once more. But as you lingered around your old haunts, searching for familiar faces and memories that would ease the pain in your chest, all you’d find was something new and foreign that left you feeling disappointed.

Turning over onto your side you curled inwards, a soft sigh passing your lips as you willed your mind to banish the longing that gnawed at you. The cool breeze that glides through your window leaves goosebumps on the bits of flesh that aren’t being swaddled by your thin white blanket. All the battle cries seemed to have simmered down as the sun inched closer toward the middle of the sky. You might be able to catch the morning market before they pack up their wares for the day if you leave now. Your icebox was pathetically empty, with only a head of rapidly wilting lettuce and milk to occupy the space. Sitting upward with a yawn, you cast a glance toward your dresser. Your clothes hang sloppily over the side of the open drawers. You should probably tidy things up before the hour grows too late.

The sleek, mousy brown floorboards that make up the second story of your house do not creak as you pad across the room—your chest aches, though you’ve grown desensitised to the familiar feeling. Your house used to creak and groan when the wind blew too roughly, and the walls were thin enough that you’d wake to the sound of your mother humming as she prepared breakfast for your family. You tried not to dwell too hard, if anything you should have been relieved. An unexpected storm wouldn’t dare to blow the roof off your house now. 

Plucking the soft, brown wool knit cardigan off the lip of your cracked door you slipped the fabric over your body. Your delicate muslin nightgown did little to keep the morning chill away. It did even less to preserve any ounce of modesty. Your bare feet slapped against the stairs as you headed downward, and a soft knock sounded at your door. Pulling your cardigan closer to your body you sighed. It must have been Mrs. Bergmann from next door coming to check on you, make sure you left your house this week, let in some fresh air– function as any other human would, that sort of stuff. She had been widowed long ago, her only son had been one of the many scouts to give his life for a free Paradis. There wasn’t much for her to do aside from checking in on her neighbours. She was a wife, a mother– it was in her nature to nurture all the little lost souls she came across.

“I’m coming Mrs. Bergmann,” You called, your voice echoing around the empty space that would have been your living room, “You don’t need to call in Werner to bust down the door just yet!”

Forcing a smile to your lips, you prepared yourself to open the door. Mrs. Bergmann was well-meaning on the best of days, if a little nosey on the worst. It was better to have someone than no one at all, you remind yourself, pushing back the urge to blanche and roll your eyes at the urgency of her knocking. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you hope your hair wasn’t too gnarly after all the tossing and turning you did last night. The door opens with a soft click as you twist the knob open.

Shock blows through you as you blink at the person on the other side. Your eyes frantically open and close, trying to make sense of who stood before you but as your synapses fired off round after round, searching for something, they found nothing.

“Armin?” You timidly ask, your throat twists up and grows dry.

The syllables on your tongue felt wrong. Maybe, the muscles had just forgotten how his name tasted. As a child, his name rolled off your tongue sweetly and constantly. Back then, there had been too many emotions packed inside your small body, you could never make sense of them, all you knew was that they all led back to the man in front of you. Your cheeks warmed at the reminder of the crush you used to harbour, of how you’d write your name and his, silently calling yourself Mrs. Arlert as if she hadn’t already existed in the form of his mother.

Armin’s cheeks grow round with the shy smile he wears, “Hi,” he says. The remnants of his boyhood live in the soft curve of his jaw and the cherub-like softness of his rosy complexion. 

“Hi,” you breathlessly whispered as you searched for any other lingering signs of familiarity. 

“May I come in?” he asks, his nervous hands smooth imaginary wrinkles in his sage green tie. The breath is selfishly stolen from your lungs by the greedy, monster who lived inside of you. They swallowed back the traces of your youth, you hoped it was enough to placate them because as long as your breath was hitched, no words could come forth.

Armin’s blue eyes curiously peered back at you from beneath his pale blonde lashes. He was still quite pretty, but the edge of maturity that marred his features made your heart flutter in a way it never had. The desperate longing that clawed at your rib cage slowed, pawing instead as its interests morphed into something more amorous. You would have beaten it down if you could, shame prickles your skin as you clear your throat.

“Of course,” you stutter, opening the door to make room for him to enter, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, I wasn’t expecting any guests this morning.”

His smile is polite, “What about Mrs. Bergmann?” He inquires, his eyes darting around to drink in the interior of your house. It looked just like the one he was raised in but it had been twelve years since he stepped foot in one. The scouts lived in barracks that were carved out of long-since abandoned castles, “You seemed to be expecting her.”

“Ah, not exactly,” you muttered, offering him a seat at your dining table, “She’s just the only visitor I have as of late … So, what brings you by?”

Armin declines the seat, instead pulling out the chair opposite of him for you. You thank him with a small bow of your head. His knuckles brush against your shoulders as he slides his fingertips along the edge of your chair before swinging around to the other side. In a world of boys, Armin Arlert was a gentleman, as he always had been, even at the age of ten when boys took to tugging girls' pigtails for attention. His grandfather would be proud of the young man he’s become. You think Mr. Arlert would have been proud even if all Armin did was survive.

The warm yellow sunlight filters through the windows and turns Armin’s hair a shade of bleach blonde. His skin is tanned, his cheeks rosy. He looks healthy, he’s a bit taller too. His hair was different too now that you took a moment to look at it, only slightly so. The shaved undercut reminded you of the short, stoic captain whose charge Armin was in for years.

Insecurity stirred in your belly. You thought of what you might look like to him being so dishevelled in nothing but a nightgown and cardigan. Unkempt, that is how you must have appeared to him. The bike in your stomach burns at the back of your throat as you cross your legs and tuck as much of your body beneath the table as you can. 

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, resting his linked hands on the table, “It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

It’s been over four years, the bitter overly insecure voice in your head hisses, “It has, but you’ve been busy, saving the world and all,” you say instead, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, “Honestly I must confess, I'm a bit surprised, I thought you and the other ambassadors would be meeting with the Queen.”

What you truly mean to say dangles in the air. Armin can feel it, he shifts in his seat— why wasn’t he with someone more important? How did he manage to sneak past the Jägerists predatory gaze? He shouldn’t have been here. The anguish that wrought the shores of Paradis couldn’t be fixed with a measly conversation but surely, it was a start so, why was he here with you?

“She met our boat at the harbour to ensure our safe passage into the city,” he explains, picking at his fingers, “We’re still trying to coordinate with the army but they’ve agreed to allow free reign of Shiganshina so long as we remain unarmed.”

“It would be rather counterintuitive for peace ambassadors to bear arms.”

Armin lets out a small chuckle, smiling a bit to himself.

“But, they’ve already proved their incompetence in thinking trained soldiers need weapons to fight,” you muttered, casting your eyes away from him, “I … My apologies, I shouldn't speak ill of your comrades.”

“They’ve dissolved the Scout Regiment, I’m no longer a soldier and they are not my comrades,” Armin swiftly replies.

He fiddles with his tie again, flattening out the fabric with scar-riddled hands. The last time you saw him, his skin was surprisingly unmarred. Old scars you could have sworn imprinted his skin ceased to exist, something to do with his newfound titan ability, that’s what Eren said when he rolled up his sleeves to expose his own blemish-free body. It seemed unnatural then, for the pieces of personal history to be erased but Armin felt alien enough without you reminding him of how much he had changed. 

“Yes, but-”

“How are you doing?” He interrupts, and an apologetic look swims within the depths of his baby blue eyes. His time in the military was a touchy subject, which was to be expected but it didn’t wash away the burn of curiosity that ribbed at your bones, “When I last wrote to Mikasa, she said she hadn’t seen you in some time in spite of being neighbours.”

Pursing your lips, you sigh, “I’m doing well Armin,” it’s a bald-faced lie but the two of you have become so estranged, Armin couldn’t know you the way he once did, not when so much time has washed the imprints you’ve pressed upon each other as it brought in the tide, “How are you?”

“That’s not an answer,” Armin frowns, the dip of his lips making his cheeks round in a way that reminds you that he is only twenty-two, “I haven’t seen you in four years, I … I want to know what your life is like.”

Reaching over the table, Armin takes your hand in his. If he notices the irritated and oozing flesh around your cuticles, he keeps it well hidden. Smoothing his thumb over your knuckles, Armin settles his eyes on yours, taking in the two little lines that have been carved into your skin from how often you furrow your brows. There was no “correct” way to tell someone that you spent most of your afternoons curled up in bed, lying listlessly as you listened to the sounds of the bustling street below. Armin had a penchant for worrying, he’d worry about your well-being when there were far more important issues for him to focus on. 

“It’s not so different from before.”

Armin was unconvinced. Eight years ago, after the Scout Regiment took control of the central government, a bit of money was sent your way in addition to your rebuilt childhood home. Though they wouldn’t say it, you believed that Eren, Armin, and Mikasa felt guilty for abandoning you the moment they turned twelve thus becoming eligible to enrol in the Cadet Corps. You had no interest in joining the Scouts, Military Police, or the Garrison but Eren was determined and wherever Eren went so too did Mikasa and Armin. With no family and no friends, you had to fend for yourself. It wasn’t so bad. A woman, you could hardly remember her name now, paid you to care for her youngest child while she and her husband worked, and their older children attended school. She gave you room and board, fed you three square meals, and gave you “hand-me-downs” to wear.

In the chaos of Trost being breeched you became separated and weeks later learned that the family perished. You used what little money you managed to save to pay for board in an inn near Jinae where you worked as a stable hand until your childhood friends and their comrades came bearing gifts. You’d need to find work soon. Now that you were of age, you were sure to find a cushy job as a barmaid at the local tavern. 

“You think it is?” You asked, biting on your bottom lip.

Armin nods. His grip tightens and he mutters a low, “Sorry” when you wince from how he accidentally squishes your fingers beneath his.

Shrugging your shoulders you think back to the before much like you did most days, “Paradis is being run by lunatics who worship a dead man,” you blanche, your chest preemptively tightening from your nerves, “That’s not so different to before when this shitty little island was run by lunatics who worshipped the walls.”

Except now, people actually paid mind to the chirping loons. They had access to weapons that could wipe out what was left of humanity and certainly were unafraid to use them. Crossing them would be a very stupid and very dangerous mistake. Bravery was what this island prided itself on, now the most one could muster was a contempt-filled glower that was sent in passing. 

“That’s not …” Armin’s voice trailed off. There was that look of guilt again. 

“I know.”

Lacing your fingers between his, you squeeze Armin’s hand.

“It’s not your fault, Armin,” you assure, your mouth twisting up into a strange smile. The muscles in your face seemed to ache as though you were contorting your expression, “You know that, right?”

He nods his head, and strands of his pale blonde hair fall against his forehead as he does, “I know,” he whispers with conviction though his hand trembles in yours. You remain unconvinced, guilt rolls off his shoulders in sickening waves.

“It’s not Eren’s fault either.”

You’re unsure why you say it. It was Eren’s fault. It was his name and his image that they fought for. Whatever politics happened behind closed doors did not matter, not when he died knowing that those men and women idolised him and would wage wars in his name. One spoiled fruit rotted away the entire crop and now Paradis was ready to cosign its doom, picking on the weakened and the damned as if this island had not once been just the same.

“Thank you,” Armin mouths, his voice barely audible as he clears his throat and replaces his expression with a friendly smile.

“I guess the trains are different,” you blurt, looking for a way to steer the sinking ship that was this conversation, “I’ll never get used to them, they’re so loud and dark inside.”

“Glad to know our hard work is being appreciated.” 

You lift the corners of your lips to smile at him, “It is, the horses are very grateful to no longer be worked to the bone by merchants transporting goods from Maria to Sheena,” you say, nearly forgetting that there no longer was an interior or exterior to name, “Life here is still simple, Armin, there isn’t much to update you on.”

“Still-”

“We can’t all be heroes,” you jest, nudging his foot beneath the table, “So, tell me what is life like for you?”

Armin withdraws his hands from yours, “It’s all I talk about, I don’t want to talk about it with you,” he explains, swallowing thickly, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.”

Rising from your seat you round the corner of the small table to press the palm of your hand between his shoulder blades. The gesture is meant to be comforting but you feel awkward, like you shouldn’t be touching him like this though your body craved the knowledge of what his skin would like against yours. The tips of your fingers graze the edge of his crisp collar, you hastily jerk back, eyes narrowing to inspect the fabric for any unwanted crinkles you may have caused.

“I’ve been such a bad host,” you mutter, “My mother would be so disappointed that I haven’t asked you if you’d like anything to drink.”

“Tea if you have any, please.”

You nod again, you still have some dried chamomile that Mrs.Bergmann gave to you when you confessed to her that you struggled to sleep some days. The tea didn’t help but it was the thought that counted. Goosebumps trailed up the length of your bare legs and you cursed yourself for not excusing yourself to dress before you sat down with Armin. The early spring air wouldn’t warm until the late afternoon most days. 

Armin’s gaze is heavy. He watches you flutter about your kitchen with keen intent. His eyes slither up your body in a methodical manner. You’re unsure if he’s leering the way men unabashedly do when they’re three pints in or if he’s searching for any indication that something might be amiss. You hope it’s the latter. It should be the latter, you didn’t feel uncomfortable and Armin wasn’t one to steal eyefuls of others.

“Do you still like it with milk and honey?” you ask, though you’ve already reached into the icebox in search of the milk you knew was in there. Hopefully, it hasn't yet spoiled.

You flinched when you rose to your full height. Armin had materialised behind you. The jug nearly drops from your hand but Armin is quick to wrap his fingers around the handle, overtop of your hand. He guides the jug to the counter and reaches an arm around you to take the teapot off the heat before it can release a shrill squeal. 

Pressing your hand to your chest, you murmur a breathless, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Armin chirps.

His eyes bore into yours, he’s inspecting you once more. Whatever he’s in search of, you’re certain he isn’t going to find it. The girl that he once knew was not the same woman that stood before him, nor was he the same boy even if his eyes twinkled just the same. That was growing up. Your stomach grumbled, licking its chops as the wanting returned. Your eyes trickled down Armin’s face until they settled on his cupid's bow. His lips were full and a dusted pink colour. They were nice, you remember wondering what they’d feel like against yours if it’d hurt to kiss him after he’d bitten his lips raw with stress. 

The sharp edge of the counter digs into the plush flesh of your hips as you press your body against it. Hunger is as frightening as it is all consuming. You are hungry. Are you hungry for him? You’ve craved and yearned for places and their people, but never their bodies. The one time you allowed a man in your bed it’d been out of curiosity and some twisted need to feel something, anything other than the dull twinge of melancholy that sprouted from the roots it planted in your heart. 

Armin placed his hand on your chest where your heart was. The heat of his palm melted through the thin fabric of your nightgown, causing you to instinctively shiver, “Your heart is racing,” he comments, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, “I didn’t startle you, did I?”

“No.”

“How is Annie?” You nervously ask, searching for a way to stifle the deluded desire that coursed through your veins, “Last I heard from Hitch, she had been freed from her crystal and joined you. That must have been exciting, being able to speak to her after so many years.”

His face crinkles up into a confused expression, “Annie is fine, they’re all fine. Connie and Jean are excited to see their mothers,” he replies slightly, cocking his head to the side, “Why do you ask?”

You shrug your shoulders. Armin doesn’t remove his hand. Your heart skips a beat, you’re sure he feels it. 

“Was just curious I guess, since I heard you had feelings for her.”

“Annie and I are friends, nothing more,” his nose crinkles, he seems to want to ask where you hear such a ludicrous rumour but doesn’t. When he wasn’t with the scouts, he was with her crystal, talking as if one day she might answer back.

“Oh.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Armin counters, his long pale lashes fluttering against his cheek as he blinks, “You’ve always been … quite the catch.”

His voice trails off, he regrets his wording. He didn’t want to liken you to fish or cattle but of all the vast information stored in his brain, there seemed to be nothing on complimenting women. Not that he’s done much of that in his lifetime. There’s never been a need to. Armin wants to compliment you, to tell you how he really feels but it gets clogged in his throat as he struggles to get a read on you.

Shaking your head, you avert your gaze.

It’s not for a lack of trying or wanting. None of the relationships you pursued ever felt right. Their hands didn’t fit within yours the way they were supposed to. Your body was hallowed out in the middle but they couldn’t fill you up. It wasn’t their fault. You’d accept that you were broken, someone who simply wasn’t meant to be loved. It was easy. Until now, when the one person your heart still clung to stood here and dangled himself like a carrot.

“Good, you’re too good for anyone on this island,” his proclamation makes your skin itch. Even if what he said were true, you would have to settle for someone on this island eventually, lest you spend the rest of your life as alone as you are now, “You deserve someone who’s good enough for you.”

You nearly laugh, though he makes this statement with such earnestness that you’re almost inclined to believe him. Almost.

“Who then?”

Looking into his eyes made your lungs ache. There was nowhere to escape with how he pinned you in place with his gaze.

“Who’s good enough for me?” You ask, your nails digging into the wood counter as you curl your fists around the lip of it, “You?”

Armin rolls his eyes and the sight alone shocks you, “No, I could never be good enough for you,” a laugh springs forth, crackling past your lips before you’re able to stop it, “Is something funny?”

His cheeks turn red with embarrassment but there's nowhere for him to hide either.

“No … Yes, actually,” you sigh, expelling all the air from your lungs as you muster up the resolve to be truthful, “I have loved for as long as I can remember and I have wanted you even before I even knew what love truly was.”

Your fingers coil around his wrist, intent on wrenching his hand away from your chest but the look in his eyes stops you. Sadness and self-loathing meet in the bright blue pools of his irises. You were born six months before he was but he’s always seemed years ahead of you. There was a certain kind of wisdom that surrounded him, you weren’t sure why. Now though, whatever maturity that shrouded Armin vanished and all that lay beneath was a newborn fawn that teetered on legs far too long for him.

Your nails dig into the cuff of his jacket, crinkling the pristine fabric, “There is not a day that goes by where I haven’t thought of you.”

“I’m no good for you either,” he says with a wet laugh. His eyes shone with welled up tears that had no business blurring his gaze.

“Because you’ve killed people?” You ask, your brows furrowing as you frown, “There are many people who have done worse for less. At least you had a reason.”

“I could never be the man that you need me to be.”

“Not even for an afternoon?” You had always known his future held more than your own, even before he became humanity's saviour. He’d make his peace with Paradis and leave, maybe he’d come back years from now, or maybe he’d plant his roots elsewhere.

His hand trembles as he shakes his head, “No.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he releases a shaky exhale. You bite back the urge to ask him once more why he was here. You were never that close as children, you were close in a way that all of Shiganshina was but never anything more than, at least nothing that would have meant this unannounced visit was appropriate.

“Why?”

“You should live a quiet life,” Armin whispers, his lips nearly grazing yours as they move to form each syllable, “A happy life, after all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

Your eyes flutter shut, “And you don’t?” It’s a stupid question, really, if he believed he did this conversation wouldn’t be happening, “You’ve been through far more than I, you’ve lost so much more.”

“I have even more to atone for.”

His bottom lip quivers as he presses the weight of his body into you. He’s heavier than you could have imagined, and his body is harder too. Somewhere between now and then his lithe frame melded into lean muscle and it serves as another reminder of how much time has passed, how little you two knew of each other now. Trailing your fingertips over his shoulder, you slide your arm around him, pulling him into an embrace. Armin shudders in your hold, a meek whimper slipping past his lips as he crushes his body into yours. Your nails press into the sliver of skin that peeks over the lip of his collar. 

It's the nape of his neck.

When titans were simply the monsters that hid beneath your bed and plagued your dreams, it was common knowledge that the way to snuff them out was through the nape. It felt oddly vulnerable for your hand to roam over the smooth expanse of skin, though even as a titan shifter it was no weak spot, it may well have been with the way his body shook in your arms.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to live or to love,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “You get to love now, you get to be loved. Armin, you’re allowed to have things and to want things even after all that has happened.”

Armin sniffles, pressing his nose in your hair. The scent of the lavender soap you’ve used for as long as you could remember still clings to your hair. You wonder if he remembers if that is why he burrows his face deeper until the tip of his nose and his lips brush against the skin of your neck. 

Wanting was hard.

So little felt tangible and on the off chance it was, it remained just out of reach. Like a tease, that brushed your fingertips as you outstretched your arm before pulling away or a glimpse of the sun before an array of clouds moved in from across the sky. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted something. Whatever it was you felt for Armin simmered lowly on a back burner until now, longing did not serve survival. Still, you wanted him but not in the way magpies coveted shiny trinkets but in the way the stars longed for the moon. It was a constant, all consuming yearning that made your stomach twist inward at the strange sensation.

“I don’t even …” Armin trails off, his voice wet with emotion, “I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to desire something.”

Leaning back, Armin allows enough space for him to look at your face. His cheeks are pink, blotchy, and shiny with half dried tears that pooled atop the apples of his cheeks. Cupping your face with the palm of your hand, he smiles sadly at you.

“But, all I have wanted for years was to know what it is like to kiss you.”

Your body burns, not with embarrassment but something else.

“Is that all?” You ask.

The corners of Armin’s mouth twitch upward, “Maybe not but I let go of those dreams long ago.”

“You kept this one, why?”

“Wishful thinking, maybe or … ?” Armin says, scrunching his brows together as he trails off, “You’ve always been here, you’ve been a constant in this ever changing world so I suppose I hoped there’d be a day where I could …”

“Kiss me?”

Armin bashfully nods, biting his lip a bit.

The shiny metal kettle of water grows cold in the length of time you and Armin spend silently staring at each other. He assesses you, slowly, looking for any signs that your affection for him remained buried in the past. You spoke in the past tense, and your words were too easily misconstrued. Your hands slip to cup the underside of his jaw. All this waiting, all this thinking was maddening when you knew exactly what you wanted. His face replaced those of all the men you kissed, his body manifested in the throngs of taverns like an apparition to taunt you. You wanted to kiss him more than you wanted anything else in this world.

His skin was warm to the touch, you’re sure yours is too. You feel warm like you’ve been dipped in melted candle wax. A bit of stubble tickles the palm of your hands and it makes you giggle. His hair is so fair, you didn’t even notice. Armin’s shoulders tense as you lean in, insecurity claws at your throat but you’ve already taken the leap. You were too far gone now to change your mind. Gently grazing your lips across his, you give Armin a chance to back away but he only leans in closer, his calloused thumbs bite into the soft edge of your jawline as he instinctively squeezes you.

Armin’s lips are slightly chapped and scabbed over in a way that tells you he still nervously chews them when he’s worried. He’s inexperienced, that you were expecting, not that you were particularly tactful with how you clumsily melded your mouth against his. Though, he didn’t seem to mind as he eagerly attempted to mimic each movement. The thread of want that coiled around your stomach roared, begging for your attention as pulled away.

The small noise of disappointment that gathers in the back of Armin’s throat does not fall deaf upon your ears. But, you feel ravenous. If you didn’t slither away now, you’d consume him, bones and all, before he’d even had the chance to register that you sunk your teeth into his sternum. You feel ravenous. It makes your skin itch. Your fingers twitched, they desperately wished to burrow themselves into his flesh to feel how his heart thrummed for you.

Through lidded eyes, Armin peers at you, “Just like I thought,” he says, his cheeks somehow deepening in colour.

“What do you mean?”

“One kiss and I’m gone,” he explains but that doesn’t smooth the confused furrow from between your brows, “I want more, I don’t know how I’m meant to live on knowing what it’s like to kiss and never being able to again.”

Your nose scrunches as you frown, “Say who?”

“Pardon?”

“Who said that I’d never kiss you again?” You ask, smoothing your thumb along the length of his stubbly jaw, “Because, I never said that.”

“I just thought-”

Looping your arms around his neck you sigh, “Stop thinking so much,” you whine, allowing yourself to relish in the knowledge that he too wanted more, “Sometimes things are far simpler than you make them out to be.”

Armin bashfully dips his chin for a moment, his heat filled gaze cast away which offers you some reprieve. Only for a short moment, though. He faces you once more in an instant. You can see it swimming in the pools of his irises, the want, the hunger. It’s something you never imagined to be reflected back to you, least of all from Armin. It thrills you all the same, your skin prickling with electricity that crackles to life when he reaches for your hips.

It’s gentlemanly, how he rests his hands respectively over your body with a feather light touch that may flee should you move too quickly. You want more though, you wish he’d take claim to you the way you the way your cunt ached for.

“Are they?”

You nod, fearing your voice would somehow betray you.

He too nods, far more thoughtful than you were, “You know, I loved you too, never had any doubts of what it was,” he muses, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows, “It never faded either even when I lost and confused about what came next.”

His admission makes you bristle, your ears perking up in search of any misspoken syllables that may have deluded you. There were none. There was no mistaking what Armin had confessed. It doesn’t feel real. You’d pinch yourself if Armin’s watchful gaze was pointed anywhere but you. That alone was proof enough that this was very real, Armin just confessed his love for you.

“And you?” Armin asks.

“Huh?”

Your heart pounds, screaming over the sound of Armin’s voice. You suck in a shaky breath and will your heart to calm down. In all your years of wanting, of yearning, you never imagined what it would be like to have your feelings reciprocated. You assumed neither of you would live long enough for anything to come to fruition. But you could hope now, right?

“Did your feelings for me ever fade?”

“No … no, never,” admitting out loud that you pined after a boy for nearly two decades would have made you feel pathetic if it wasn’t Armin who pulled the truth from where it coiled around your ribs,  “Even if I wanted them too, they never would. You’re it for me, you’re the only person I was made to love.”

You didn’t fancy yourself a dreamer. At least, not after everything was said and done. There wasn’t much to dream up, but if you were to dream or indulge you’d tell him that there could never be anyone else because your souls were tied together. It was a terribly selfish thought but it was true enough that you felt inexplicably tied to Armin. Even if this day passed and you never saw him again, your heart would remain his until you both returned to earth.

Armin kisses you before you’re able to backpedal on any of your words, almost shyly, but still eager enough that his need rolls off his body in waves and crashes into you. His nails press through the thin material of your nightgown to nip at your hips. You’re reminded of just how strong he has become in all your years apart when you feel his muscles ripple through his forearms.

“Armin,” you sharply whisper between the desperate press of his mouth to yours, “I want you.”

It’s an unfinished thought. There are too many words that could come next and not enough actions to convey what it is you want. Threading your fingers through carefully styled hair, you tug at the strands. Armin keens into your mouth, one of his hands shooting out to grasp the edge of the counter you were pressed against. Having braced himself, he’s careful not to put too much of his weight onto you as his body melts into yours. 

“I’m right here,” he says, with a slight laugh.

Resting your forehead against his, you sigh, “I want you,” you repeat, untangling your fingers from his hair to fiddle with the top button of his shirt. You flick it open, slowly testing the waters. There’s a sparse patch of flaxen hair that leads your gaze past his collarbones, “I want to be close to you, close with you…” 

Your whisper, wanton words did little to clarify what you meant, Armin’s confused stare was fixed on your swollen, kiss bitten lips. Popping open another button, you glare at his tie. It constricts the fabric of his shirt from spilling open any further. Pulling the tongue of the tie out from where it’s neatly tucked in his waistband, you tug on it until you’re nose to nose. You swallow thickly, your gaze trailing down the expanse of his neck. The muscles strained beneath the skin as he nervously clenched his jaw.

“Oh … Oh.”

The red in his cheeks deepened. He looked a bit like a tomato but it was rather endearing.

“...Yeah?”

He nods a bit too quickly, “Yeah,” he agrees, biting his bottom lip, “I want this, I want this with you.”

Tentatively, Armin rests his hands on your shoulder and thumbs at the worn wool of your well loved cardigan. The fabric is slowly peeling away from your body, slipping down your biceps to pool in the crook of your elbows. Your heart flutters, it’s a strange sensation and for a moment you wonder if it’s healthy. It can’t be, not with how your stomach lurches alongside your heart. Unfurling your fists from his tie, you straighten your arms and allow your cardigan to unceremoniously fall to the floor.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your fingers skimming the delicate neckline of your nightgown. You weren’t yet so overcome with lust that you forgot yourself or Armin’s apparent lack of experience.

His hands replace yours, “Yes,” his skin is clammy but so is yours, the sheen of nervous sweat that gathers along your jugular feels disgusting when laid overtop of goosebumps but you can’t will either away, “You’re special to me … there isn’t anyone else I would want to do this with.”

“You’re not just saying this because you want to die with no regrets?”

You cringe at the crippling edge of insecurity that creeps over you, mentally slapping your hand in shame. Bad! You silently scold. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. In spite of all that happened, the future was never promised, you both knew that much. There was no shame in wanting to taste all life had to offer just in case. It was human nature.

“I’m going to live a very long life,” Armin says with a confident smile. Such sureness would usually make you roll your eyes in annoyance but Armin doesn’t say it to be boastful– even if he had, he’d have earned it– he says it matter of fact, he will live a long life in spite of everything, “And so are you, there’s no need to think in half measures filled with worries because we’re going to live long beautiful lives filled with everything we could ever want.”

It’s a pretty picture he paints but you can’t help but whisper, “We are?”

Smoothing his calloused thumbs along the column of your throat, Armin exhales, “Yes, we are,” you almost believe him, his optimism was just that convincing, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Armin tugs on the loop that keeps your nightgown tied closed, not minding that the two of you still stand in your kitchenette and it’s his first time. He gently guides the thin cotton fabric open to expose your chest but doesn’t move to pull the cloth from your body. In turn, you push his jacket off his shoulders and toss it to the floor with your cardigan. He unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall open to reveal his lithe abdomen. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, walking backwards at your behest, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

His brows shoot into his hairline when he bumps into the edge of your table, “I never pegged you to be such a flatterer, Mister Arlert,” you tease, pushing his chest until he takes the hint to hop onto the tabletop, “You tell all the girls that?”

It’s easy to wear a smile and play the part of a bashful lovestruck young lady. It’s only half a performance. There were parts of you that have long since been buried amongst the past lives you lived. They seemed to come back to you with each puff of breath that passed your lips. You slip in and out of you were and you could become. It’s frightening and thrilling. You like the rush you get when he smiles back at you. It’s megawatt bright and wide enough to take up most of his face. You wonder if he feels it too, the pieces that come together like a puzzle. He must, that’s why he smiles and allows himself to indulge in the perilous depths of wanting that lap at your bellies.

“No,” he playfully rolls his eyes, his fingers splaying out as he presses his palms flat against the table, “Only you. It’s only ever been you.”

Your stomach somersaults, you could get used to the feeling, the flirting, being desired earnestly. 

You’ve been desired before but those men didn’t desire you, but rather the idea of you, your house, even your cunt, but never really you. They never filled you with empty promises, their intentions quite clear from the first shared mug of ale. It never bothered you before but now it does. You wish you didn’t fall for their promise of something good when the real thing was so much better now that you had it in your grasp.

The tip of his shoe just barely grazes the floor as he swings his leg back and forth, stepping into the space between his spread legs, you graze your fingertip along the length of his thigh. The metal of his belt glints in the warm morning light. You should probably bring him upstairs, to your bedroom. You worry if you do, you’ll lose the nerves that have steeled over to service the aching monster in your belly. Tomorrow he might think you crass, perhaps he would even sooner when the haze of desire faded and he was left with the weight of his indulgence.

“May I? 

“Yes, please,” Armin breathes, shuddering a bit when you place your hand on the buckle.

His hips twitch upward, seeking the warm touch of your hand. Daring to cast your gaze downward, you rake your eyes over his growing bulge. His belt clinks open and you suck in a nervous breath. You’re about to ask if you can unbutton his dress pants when he whispers another small plea, his breath heavy.

A few strands of hair slip over the edge of your shoulder, Armin tucks them behind your ear with a pleased smile. His cock springs forth when you pull the waistband of his underwear downward. The wispy trail of hair that disappears beneath his shirt is a shade darker, but just as fine as the hair on his head. Your mouth waters at the sight of his rosy tip, precum oozes when you gently squeeze the base of his cock. Slowly pumping your hand up and down his length, you glance at Armin.

His bottom lip is squished between his teeth, hiding the sweet little sounds that travel up his throat. You strain your ears to listen, your eyes boring into his. He blinks but holds your gaze. He frees his bottom lip and allows his jaw to hang open when he realises that you’re listening to his sounds. Armin doesn’t have to be quiet, he can loudly indulge in his pleasures so he does. Softly moaning your name with a goofy, lovestruck expression on his face even as he jerks his hips up to match your rhythm. 

“Does that feel good?” you ask, internally cringing as you wrack your brain for something to say. You wonder if you should stay silent, but words may be more comforting. 

Armin’s head bobs as he nods a bit too quickly, “Yes,” he moans as he digs his nails into the splintered wood of your table.

He uses his other hand to curl his fingers around your wrist, the one that wasn’t languidly working his cock. Armin squeezes your wrist too roughly like he forgets himself and his own strength, your brows crinkle in pain but it’s easily masked as a look of concentration. You don’t mind though, the pain reminds you that you’re alive, that this was real and not just the machinations of an overactive imagination. Armin shudders when you use your thumb to spread some of the precum gathered along the head of his cock down the shaft, allowing your hand to slide more smoothly.

Your name is  sweet on his tongue, the syllables roll off it in a way that makes you think it belongs there. Like Armin was meant to say your name like this for the rest of eternity. 

“I want to touch you too,” he pants, between wanton whimpers. The smooth silver of skin that he clings to isn’t enough, “I want you to feel good too.”

It’s difficult to say no to Armin when he asks so sweetly, “Okay,” you say, bringing your linked hands up to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Lay back for me, okay?”

Armin does as you ask without question like a dutiful dog obeys its owner. You hitch your legs over the edge of the table and settle atop of his thighs. Hiking the hem of your nightgown upward, you guide Armin’s hand between your legs to where your bare, wet pussy clenches in anticipation. Your cunt aches with need and your chest squeezes at the slight brush of his calloused fingers across your folds.

“Touch me here.”

“Like this?” he asks, curling his fingers to rub against your throbbing clit, a shiver rolls through your spine.

Cupping your hand over his, you encourage him to make a few small circles, “Mhm, just like that,” you shudder, your breath halting when the table creaks beneath your shared weight, “It feels good, Armin.”

Seeming satisfied with himself and the way his name melted past your lips, he replicates your movement. You feel feverish with need as the urge to burrow yourself within his sternum consumes you. It melds with the pinpricks of pleasure that dance inside your belly as your muscles tense. It’s a terrible fate– to be ensnared by Armin Arlert. You don’t believe his promises, no matter how saccharine. It’s devilish for him to touch you, you’ve decided. Like with your kisses, how were you meant to go on without Armin ever touching you like this again? But, you’ve learned to manage your expectations. Dreams were called dreams because they were never meant to be anything more than something to wish on as a child. Even if he did still love you, there was too much distance between what became of your life and what became of his. 

Pleasure burns your belly. It singes your insecurities but doesn’t snuff them out in their entirety. It’s just enough to chase them away and leave nothing but bliss in their wake. Your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Your chest heaves with haggard breaths, and your nightgown slips open to reveal the supple skin of your chest and your breasts to Armin. His gaze is respectful as he drinks in the sight. He moans to himself and marvels, it’s quite endearing. You like it, you don’t feel dirty or ashamed for your wanton ways, how could you when Armin drinks you in like you’re a perfectly crafted mountainside that has been crafted just for his admiration?

“Armin,” you sigh, “I need you inside of me.”

Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you slide the head between your dripping folds. Armin’s body wracks and his shoulders shake as he quivers with need. He moans your name once more, and you commit the sound to memory, for those cold and lonely nights that never seem to end. Your shoulders tense when you press the tip to your hole. It’s been a while, the stretch burns a bit. But, it’s nice. Your eyes roll back into your head and you curse under your breath. 

Armin slopes his hand around the nape of your neck, “Can I kiss you?” he all but moans, “I want to kiss you again.”

His rosy cheeks grow round when he offers you a bashful smile. You kiss him, your tongue and teeth clicking against one another as you sloppily move your mouth alongside his. You’ve never been much of a multitasker. It’s hard to focus on much else aside from the mind numbing pleasure that distracts you. He hasn’t stopped rolling your clit between his fingers and as he swallows up your moans with desperate, fevered kisses, you wonder if he’s enjoying how much of a mess he’s made of you. 

Your heart throbs in a funny sort of manner when you sink all the way down the length of his cock. The feeling of fullness spreads to the tips of your fingers all the way down to your toes. You hate how complete you feel, the fact that a small part of you wishes you could bottle the utter feeling of contentedness that warms you. The hunger and longing that lives inside of you never felt satiated, not once in the decade since it burrowed behind your lungs. Now though, they purr happily like a fat cat who’s had its fair share of the cream.

The taste of salt dabbles on your tongue, “Why are you crying?” Armin asks, his voice laced with concern, “Is something wrong, does it hurt?”

Swiping your fingers across the top of your cheekbones you confirm that those are your tears and not his. They spill past your lash line and there is nothing you can do to stop them. You don’t feel sad, even with the mess in your head you know that much. You sputter for a moment, desperately searching his face for an answer but nothing comes.

“I’m just so happy,” you say though you’re unsure where those words come from but they flow freely before you can stop them just like your tears, “I like being this close to you, I want to stay this close to you.”

Forever.

That’s the word that should complete your sentence. You keep it clutched to your chest where it’ll remain safe so long as you’re vigilant.

You knock your hips forward to silence whatever endeared sentiment Armin is about to form. His brows press together in concentration. He’s nearing his end, you can feel it in the way he throbs inside of you. Your tears are gently wiped by rough hands, you hardly register them. It’s difficult to focus on much as he plays with your clit and dutifully matches each flick of your hips. He’s a quick learner, he always has been. You wonder if he’s storing your reactions and sounds for later so that if there was a next time, he’d do exactly what you’d like without instruction. The end nears for you too, it lingers amongst the obnoxious groans from your table as you rock your hips. The sounds of skin bare slapping marry your shared, debauched whines. They’ll haunt your walls tomorrow and the next. 

They haunt you right now.

You didn’t think you were capable of feeling so serene, but you do. You’re untouchable as you chase your release. It lays in the palm of Armin’s hands. You’ll eat straight from them if you have to. The coil in your stomach tightens for a moment and your breathing becomes staggered. Armin is no better, he sputters small half breaths between needy whines of your name. His forehead rests on your shoulder, and his sweat dabbled hair sticks to you. Strands of your hair cling to the nape of your neck too. The cool breeze that slithers across your house makes your heated skin break out with goosebumps. It doesn’t bother you though, nothing could bother you now.

“I love you,” Armin whispers into your skin as he cums, holding your body close to his.

A few more tears well up as your orgasm washes through you. Your thighs shake and you struggle to bring your arms around his torso. His tight embrace makes up for it as they lay limply by your side. Your flush skin is peppered with affectionate kisses and his nose is nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You feel loved, you haven’t felt it in a while but it felt similar to this. The earnest way he embraces you without a second thought is imbued with love. Lifting your tired arms, you curl them around his body. Your nails dig into the hardened flesh of his back. They leave a few crescent moons to join the myriad of battle scars and freckles that have returned to him.

‘“I love you too.”

You wish you could say it was true for the moment but it’s not. It was true because you did love him, you loved him in a way you weren’t sure you were capable of loving anyone else. If Ymir the Founder had left her people with anyone before erasing herself and her titan kin from existence, you think it might have been eternal love. The kind that wasn’t possible of fading, even when you didn’t understand why.

Hours pass and you find yourself in your bed once more, on the edge of waking and sleep you register the lack of sunlight. You don’t remember exactly how you made your way upstairs but you do remember two strong arms holding you close as you allowed slumber to cradle your tired mind in its embrace. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your blanket is tucked snugly beneath your chin.

There’s a letter on your bedside table and a glass of water. You make out the letters of your name and the promise of return but you choose not to read any further. Laying in silence you wonder if she’s still out there, your creator, the founder. If she was, you hoped she would listen to your pleas. You were strong, but you weren’t strong enough to spend the rest of your life waiting on a lost life whose remains had long since returned to the dirt and earth.

You prayed that the Jägerist’s stupidity would fall deaf to Queen Historia’s ears and that when you awoke next, there’d still be a head of blond hair next to you with long pretty eyelashes and rosy cheeks that told all his secrets. 

He was too far entangled in your rib cage. You were far too comfortably curled around his aorta. Armin may be able to withstand it but you weren’t. After all this time, you really hoped you could be happy. Even with all the strangeness that came from estrangement, you felt more alive with Armin than you had in all the years of living in Shiganshina. It was a shell of its former self, with the ghosts of yesterday's past filling all the nooks and crannies. You too easily allowed yourself to become one of them, the ghosts but you didn’t half to be a ghost, you could want things just the same as Armin could.

And you wanted him to come back to you so the two of you could experience that future he was talking about.

Mr. Arlert did not raise a liar or a man who’d break promises. Your chances were good. You could be happy. All the lost parts of you could return and maybe you’d feel whole again, and maybe you’d welcome the warmth of the sun on your skin the same way you welcomed Armin back into your life. 

You deserved some ounce of happiness too. 

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

#armin arlert x reader #armin arlert smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #armin x reader #armin smut #armin x you

[blossom-hwa]

the words I say, and the words I mean | h.k

pairing: Huening Kai x gender neutral!reader genre:  fluff, a touch of angst, high school!au, childhood best friends to lovers!au warnings: cursing word count: 2.5k notes: this was originally a story for jay written for chip as a lovely birthday present, I've repurposed it for hyuka because I think he'd fit the lovely lovestruck trope just as well :) hope you enjoy! On a cool golden afternoon on the cusp of winter, Kai falls for you again. 

Jay (Enhypen) Ver. | TXT Masterlist

At precisely five fifty-three on a Friday afternoon of a crisp fall-turning-winter day, Kai comes to this conclusion:

He says a lot of shit.

Which, in hindsight, any of his friends could have probably told him. Taehyun for certain—and Beomgyu too just by virtue of him being a paragon of evil or something. But there’s that whole saying about having to realize things about oneself by oneself, or whatever, because you’ll never listen to anyone else, not for real.

Or maybe there isn’t a saying. Maybe someone just told him that and he’s remembering it now.

Doesn’t matter. The point is, Kai walks into the coffee shop where you work at exactly five fifty-two pm on this wonderful Friday afternoon in the crisp intersection between fall and winter where the sun is beginning to set noticeably earlier but not so much so that it fucks up his entire brain, locks eyes with you behind the counter, and says:

“Hey, doofus.”

Which is certainly a substitute—if not a very good one—for what he says in his brain:

You look really beautiful in this lighting, and I kind of want to kiss you.

You roll your eyes and it’s still beautiful, somehow, in the golden afternoon sunlight spilling through the cafe window, and once again Kai is reminded of how hard he’s fallen for every single bit of you—the childhood best friend who lives next door, who’s seen him from his grubby little toddler days to his ratty pre-teen years to his ungodly mess of existence in this last year before college. You’ve seen everything about him, he’s seen everything about you, and if Kai hadn’t realized it before (a year ago, you fell asleep in the passenger seat as he was driving the two of you home from school and he got a slap of cold reality from God Herself when he looked over to see drool trickling down the side of your face and the first thing he thought was cute) he’d certainly realize it now, at five fifty-two pm on a Friday afternoon at the cusp of fall-turning-winter where the sunlight shines so warm on your half-annoyed, half-fond expression that Kai can proudly say is reserved solely for him.

But it’s kind of like a second realization of love, he guesses. Because apparently once wasn’t enough. And it comes in the form of him calling you a doofus when he just really wants to kiss you instead.

He really, really says a lot of shit. More specifically, a lot of shit he doesn’t mean. Mostly because you don’t know how he feels, and he’s too scared to ask if you might feel the same way.

“Good afternoon to you too, doofus,” you snip, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter. He hands you the exact amount for the drink like clockwork because it’s a routine at this point, and then, also in routine, he eyes it exaggeratedly.

“There’s no poison in this, is there?”

There it is. Again. There’s no poison in this, is there?

How about this instead:

Thanks for the drink, I really love you.

You roll your eyes again and he has to curb the smile on his face, in case it betrays the way his heart is pounding in his chest like it does a lot these days at the sight of you. “No, asshole,” you intone. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d make sure there was blood.”

“Aw, so you don’t want to kill me?”

I’d probably let you stab me for free.

“I’m waiting for the right time.” You snicker. “You know, Beomgyu already offered to help me hide the body.”

Kai would respond, and if he did he’d probably say something equally dumb that he didn’t really want to say because his heart keeps screaming for him to tell the truth of his emotions but his mind keeps telling it to shut the fuck up, but the door opens again with a little ring of bells and even though it’s now five fifty-four pm, six minutes from the end of your shift, six minutes are still six minutes and he’ll have to wait those six minutes to walk you home.

Your manager’s a bitch.

So he parks himself at a table, idly scrolling through his phone while sipping at the bitter Americano you gave him (perfect for keeping him somewhat awake for the late night studying that will definitely happen tonight), and also sneaking glances at you when he’s more or less certain you’re busy. He does good today, doesn’t manage to get caught staring even once before you disappear into the back, presumably to strip off your apron and clock out.

Soobin sends him about five cat pictures in the several minutes it takes for you to change. Kai giggles into his drink and hearts them all right before a shadow looms over his seated figure.

“What’re you laughing at?”

In response, he lifts his phone and watches a smile bloom across your face at the cat pictures. “They’re adorable,” you coo.

Kai’s brain reacts before his mouth does, which sucks because it only gives further proof to his realization earlier which he’d kinda hoped was a fluke but was pretty sure it wasn’t.

So are you.

He doesn’t say that, because he doesn’t have the guts. “Yeah, if only I could convince my parents to get one,” he pouts instead, pocketing the phone. ���Let’s go home.”

The bells above the door chime merrily as the two of you walk out into the golden sunshine, a subtle warmth that curls even through the sharp bites of wind that nip at his nose and cheeks. When winter comes with its snow and ice, you’ll switch to taking the car home—him driving over to pick you up instead of walking in the snow—so he cherishes the walks for now, a bit of peace and calm in the silence of the neighborhood air.

Well, not exactly peace and calm. Because the two of you are best friends, and so you bicker, and most of that bickering gets pretty loud and your neighbors probably hate you both even if they haven’t said it out loud yet, but to Kai it feels peaceful anyway. Calming. A breath of fresh air, a moment in which he can forget about the stress of school and college applications and just focus on being here with you.

You’re telling him a story about work today, gesticulating wildly as you reenact some woman telling you that her drink wasn’t frothy enough, that she expected two full fucking inches of froth so you’d better shake it again or remake it. Kai laughs, and cackles, and commiserates when you say you’d like to hunt her down and put her six feet under, and all the time his heart feels like it’s blooming, blooming under not the sun itself but the light of your smile as you laugh with him.

Like a sunflower, he thinks. A sunflower, always chasing the sun across the sky.

Holy shit, Yeonjun’s poetry is rubbing off on him. This is terrible.

And then you laugh again, this brilliant sound that’s like a cross between a pig’s snort and wedding bells, and yeah. Okay. Whatever. Maybe Yeonjun’s poetry is fine. Because at least it’s getting things right.

“I never want to work in the food industry again,” you complain, shaking your head. Your scarf seems to be slipping around your neck and Kai’s fingers itch to rearrange it, but he keeps his hands to himself because you’ll notice it, right? You’ll notice the slipping scarf instead and then he won’t have to risk having you feel the tenderness in his fingers that isn’t supposed to be there because he’s only supposed to be your best friend, not someone who has a crush on you. “All the horror stories are so real.”

“Okay, but have you considered...” He pauses dramatically as you look at him, eyebrows raised. “Maybe you’re the problem.”

“Kai Kamal Huening—”

“If everything’s happening to you, I’m just saying, maybe there’s some correlation there—”

You punch him in the arm. Hard.

He wails.

“Oh my God, you fucking baby,” you hiss, all the while also holding your sides that are shaking with laughter as Kai flops to the ground, gripping his arm like you just attempted to cut it off. Good. Because he’s exaggerating, clearly, but only for your sake—so you can laugh. Just a bit. Enough to bring light back to your face that isn’t just from the sun.

“You punched me,” he whines, “and you’re calling me a baby?”

I’d let you punch me any day. And if I deserved it, I’d probably punch myself in the face, too. For you.

He’s going insane, he really fucking is, with the disconnect between the shit he says and the shit he wants to say. But the banter comes so easily, too easily—maybe that’s the reason why he can’t speak the words buried in his heart. Because it’s so much easier, so much simpler, to just pretend. To just bicker his way out of ever revealing anything to you.

“Oh my God, just shut up.” You haul him up and—holy shit, maybe he’s just some Victorian woman in disguise or whatever because he could swoon into your touch. He really could. But he doesn’t, because even to his dumbfuck lovesick heart, that’s overkill. “Come on, punch me. We’ll call it even.”

Kai stares at the arm you proffer to him, covered in the coat you’ve worn for several years at this point. He doesn’t know why, but for a moment, he can’t move. Can’t bring himself to.

Which is dumb as fuck. Because this is a thing you two have always done, jokingly hit each other at one point and when the other complains loud enough to cause a neighborhood ruckus, let them hit back to call it even. It started with your first fight as kids and it just...stayed. Until now. At this moment at sometime past six pm on a Friday evening, now, on a crisp fall-turning-winter day where wind has mostly carried away the coffee smell from your job and Kai is having a crisis about punching your arm.

But he has to do it. So—

He punches you.

Very softly.

Nothing at all like you punched him.

You blink. So does he.

“What the fuck was that, dude?” You narrow your eyes at him playfully, though something uncertain dances in your gaze. Alarm bells start ringing at full force in his brain—fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—“Are you going soft?”

He’s looking at you and you’re looking at him and a gust of wind blows the scarf around your neck and fuck you still haven’t noticed that it’s loose and he wants nothing more than to grab it and fix it so you won’t get too cold but he can’t, now, because he’s already revealed too much by not punching you the way you (and he!) expected and the uncertainty is still there in your expression and FUCK he needs to say something, he needs to say something—

No, it’s because I like you so much it hurts.

“No, it’s because you’re weak and you wouldn’t be able to handle a real punch.”

You screech and Kai screams and then you’re chasing him down the block, one fist held high as you yell something like I’ll give you a real fucking punch to whine about and even as he runs away from you he can hear the laughter in your voice even as you spout bloody murder and promises of revenge behind him, your screams blending with his gasping laughter as he stops, sides heaving with cackles, and you bowl him onto the cold sidewalk that still feels warm, somehow, warm with your giggles as you slap him in the shoulder, threats of violence still dripping from your lips—

“I give up,” he gasps, tears squeezing out of his eyes as he tries to stop laughing. “I give up.”

In other words:

I’ll let you win, always, because your happiness means everything to me.

You collapse to the ground beside him on the cold concrete, and there has never been anything more beautiful, Kai thinks, than the medley of your cackling laugh fading in the air and your expression scrunched in giggling happiness as you sit up to face him. “Good,” you sniff, eyes sparkling in the fading sunlight. “Glad you know your place.”

Kai watches you stand, then extend a hand to help him up. His eyes linger on that hand, the hand he held so much as a kid, the hand he stopped holding in middle school because it’s icky and we aren’t dating, the hand he’s wanted to hold for several years now and even more so since last year when he saw you drooling in the car and thought you were so, so cute. He reaches up, takes it, and in the moment where your palms are connected, his heart aches, aches so much for him to just say—

I love you.

But you let go of his hand, still smiling, so oblivious to the way his heart sags and cracks with the weight of those three words he can’t say as the warmth of your palm leaves his, and he knows—it isn’t meant to be, you loving someone as ratty and messy and damaged as he. You’re best friends. Nothing less, but certainly nothing more.

So he leaves the words in his overflowing heart, locks them away with a cold key made of the sudden absence of your hand’s warmth against his. “Come on,” he says instead, smiling the crooked smile that you always say makes him look like a stupid little rugrat on the streets. But he gets the patented Kai Kamal Huening smile on your face in return, annoyance and exasperation and fondness all mixed into an expression that nearly explodes the box where he keeps those three words, eight letters, carefully locked away, so it can’t be too bad. Not really. Not if it gets him the sunlight of your smile on your face.

Nothing’s so bad, really, not even the weight of all the words he means but can’t say, not when you smile at him like this under the shimmering golden sunlight of a fall-turning-winter evening, not when the two of you are alone in the street glowing warm with laughter, not when it feels like nothing in the world can tear the two of you apart. It’s enough, really. Having you here, and knowing you’ll always be here, even if it means keeping secrets locked carefully away in his heart.

“Come on,” he repeats, and his smile isn’t even that strained as he jerks his head towards the end of the street. “The sun’s setting. Let’s get home.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

#txt #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together #txt huening kai #tomorrow x together huening kai #huening kai #txt huening kai x reader #txt scenarios #huening kai x reader #huening kai scenarios #huening kai oneshots #tomorrow x together scenarios #huening kai fanfic #txt x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #fluff #angst #high school!au #cw cursing #the words I say and the words I mean #blossom-hwa

[comradekatara]

i think about their relationship so often.

the chiastic parallels between kanna risking her life to travel to the other side of the world during a war, only for katara to make the same perilous yet inverse journey north two generations later. how the shot with kanna looking on with tears in her eyes as hama is taken by the fire nation, the ship's hull closing as she looks out at her decimated tribe, her best friend with tears in her eyes, is a beat for beat exact callback to katara looking on at aang, the only difference being that aang attempts to smile hopefully for katara before his face, too, ultimately clouds over with despair. the fact that kanna is constantly nagging katara to do her chores, to stop messing around, to follow the rules, to stay put, to listen to her brother. she knows katara, knows her intimately, because she once was her. that brave, daring, hopeful, adventurous girl who wanted nothing more than to escape the confines of her of her monotonous existence, who wanted to travel and find freedom and hope elsewhere.

but katara is now her responsibility, and she knows all too well that a girl like that can be trouble, can be a danger to herself and others. especially if she's a waterbender. kanna saw her people massacred, her best friend taken by the fire nation, her daughter killed sacrificing herself for katara, the girl who carries the hope of her entire people on her shoulders. and she loves katara, she loves her so much, sees so much of herself in her, but it is also her job to rein her in, to keep her indoors, doing domestic busywork like sewing and laundry so she doesn't try to run off, try to run all the way to the other side of the world, so her antics, through her bending mishaps or otherwise, don't cause her to accidentally alert the fire nation and have their entire fragile existence come crumbling down after she and sokka have done so much to maintain it, to protect katara, even when katara feels like she is being smothered and overdisciplined and robbed of a childhood.

katara wants the opportunity to train with a master. of course she does. she considers her waterbending the most important part of her identity, the part of her that brought hope to her tribe and killed her mother in equal measure. she's the only person left who holds the key to their cultural artform, this crucial piece of their heritage. and of course kanna would love it if katara could hone her craft, but her first priority is always keeping katara alive, and if that means she can't become a bending master, then so be it.

raising a teenager is hard, really hard. they don't like being told that ordering them around and telling them to stay in the borders you've drawn for them is "for their own good." the only reason kanna doesn't have the same problem with sokka is because he doesn't actually consider himself a teenager (although he very much is), and he not only follows her rules but enforces them. they are on the same page; safety is the priority, katara is the priority. but katara hates how restrictive their rules are, hates how sullen and strict and serious they are. how hopeless they are, how resigned they are to leading lives of misery in the fraught safety they've created for themselves. she wants to see the world, to have fun, to have friends, to help others instead of being the one constantly being protected and sheltered.

of course, kanna and sokka are not hopeless and depressed and numb by nature; they have been hollowed out into shells of themselves by the war, by the promises they've made to keep katara safe. sokka grows so much by traveling the world, absorbs so much new knowledge so quickly, makes new friends and lovers, gains new perspectives, reaches his full, incredible potential by being dragged out of the comfort zone he clings to in the pilot. and kanna has already undergone her bildungsroman, lifetimes ago. she knows what it is like, what it means to experience the adventure katara desires. but she never told her. she never once mentioned to katara that the south pole is not all she knows, that she too once longed to leave the place that was stifling her, suppressing her freedom. she is afraid to tempt katara, to be anything other than the strict authority from which she once left everything she ever knew behind to escape.

until the avatar returns. until the legend she used to tell katara before their world became too hopeless, of the old days when the avatar kept balance and the world was not at war, is made real again. when katara, who found aang, who believed in him from the beginning, brings the avatar back, through her desperation and her rage and her indomitable hope for a life that can be bigger and better than kanna and sokka's dour little pocket of resignation and grief.

kanna has always believed in katara, has always known that there would come a time when katara was to bring back hope to their tribe. so now, trusting sokka, katara's sworn protector, to stay by her side and do right by her, she ushers them on their journey. katara, her little waterbender, hero of the southern water tribe, and spitting image of kanna.

#this is probably the most important post ive ever made #like. my entire blog could just be summed up by this post #id in alt text #analysis #katara #kanna #sokka #kanna&katara #kanna&sokka #aang&katara #hama&kanna #there were more screenshots i wanted to include here but tumblr has a 30 img limit >:( #like the fact that kanna is the one who tells katara stories about the avatar (!!). etc. #hey girls. did you know. that uhm... the bond between a grandmother and her granddaughter is the most important thing in the world???? #this is also another point in favor of chief katara btw #bc hakoda was chief but he was overseas & traveling the world #whereas kanna was chief of the village. their home. #and sokka is trying to follow in hakodas footsteps but he can’t because he’s never left home #whereas katara WANTS to leave home (like kanna did) but kanna is forcing her to stay by her side #until she gives katara her blessing to grow into herself just like she did as a teenager #and kataras homecoming thus means following in kanna’s footsteps to lead their people #which isn’t to say that sokka doesn’t either #but that they do lead like kanna always wanted them to: together #combining the worldly & the traditional. the globe & their home. hakoda and kanna. kya and hama. #their destinies intertwined; their legacies fulfilled #and katara!!!! is kannas!!!! spitting image!!!!!!! #ok im done now. sry

[rosekeu]

[ Moonlight on the River ]

Sypnosis: The final battle came way earlier than you expected, and amidst all the chaos, your lover got wrapped up in its twisted fate. How were you supposed to react when you couldn't do anything to save the boy you had loved since childhood?

A/N: manga spoilers, implied death, hurt no comfort, angst. 1.7k words. listen to moonlight on the river by mac demarco or space song by beach house.

[ ao3 link ]

”Gojo, please you need to listen to me. Please, you don’t get it.” You violently sobbed, gripping your mentor’s wrist, pleading with him to listen. His eyes swept over you making sure you weren’t hurt.

Blood began to drip from the gash on your neck as you paused to take a couple shaky breaths trying to calm your nerves. “Please, you can’t kill him. I need him. He’s still Megumi.”

“You can’t do this to me…please Gojo.”

“I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT HIM PLEASE!” He stayed silent. You waited for him to say something, anything.

You stared back at him, clenching your fist as your eyes darkened, “I don’t care what happens to me, I need him back no matter what.”

You glanced at the figure looking past Gojo, it was wearing Megumi's face and body but the rest belonged to the evil man, the curse, who destroyed the place you used to call home. The same man who stole your friend's humanity away. Even more tears began to fall down your face as you turned to Gojo with a defeated expression, sadly still containing a miniscule glimmer of hope. A tiny part of you hoped that your lover could return safely. A tiny part of you naively believed.

“Is she alright?” Gojo asked Yuuji, who wasn’t standing too far away, still avoiding your piercing gaze. “Except for the gash on her neck, there’s only a few bruises on her so she should be okay…for now.”

As Gojo started to free himself from your grip, he threw Yuuji a knowing look. And suddenly, you were trapped in Gojo's arms. “No, no, no. GOJO! PLEASE NO!” You struggled in his hold, but he only tightened it in response

"Everything will be okay.” Your mouth fell open as your eyes widened. You could feel your chest tighten as the panic rose within you as Gojo’s hold on you tightened. “Just leave it to me.”

You begged him to change his mind, desperate to get away, but his expression was unwavering.

“LET GO OF ME! PLEASE!”

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” You pleaded, tears streaming down your face, hoping that your desperation would somehow break through to him.

As Gojo walked towards Yuuji he handed you over to him. The boy with pink hair had a strong hold on you while wearing a solemn expression.

“NO! PLEASE GOJO ITS MEGUMI!“ You started screaming out to your teacher once more, your voice breaking. Despite your agony, Yuuji knew this was for the best. It was the right decision for you to suffer.

"PLEASE, I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT HIM!” Your words were ignored as the King of Curses fought with your teacher, while using the body of your lover as a puppet. You could feel the desperation rising inside of you as the fight progressed. You felt utterly helpless when you realized that your pleas had been ignored.

“Yuuji. Let me go, I need to stop him.” You seem to be in dire need of anything to occur. Something that is going to alter Megumi's destiny. since you were aware that one of them would die if they got into a duel. There was a sense of impending disaster hanging in the air, pressing you to do something.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

You attempted to escape his hold, thrashing in his arms but it was in vain as his grip on you only tightened. Yuuji led you to the sidelines where the rest of your comrades were watching the battle take place. You cried out in pain, anger, and most of all sadness.

The raven haired boy you grew up with was going to be killed.

You never got to say goodbye.

There were so many unspoken words between the two of you.

You needed more time.

You needed a chance to unravel the tangled emotions and express what you truly felt.

The weight of those desires lingered, leaving a deeply rooted seed of regret. But alas, moments slipped through your fingers like sand, and now all that remains in the haunting presence of what could've been.

You needed to hug him one last time.

You needed to kiss him one last time.

As if pleading with the universe

You needed to see him smile again

You needed to hear him laugh again.

You needed to touch him again.

Would the universe make you forget his face after all this was over? Would the universe grant you the mental peace of fading memories and erase the pain which would linger in your heart? Or would it be a cruel and unforgiving reminder, tattooing his face deeper into your mind, tormenting you with what might've been?

Unfair. Unfair. Unfair

Why did it have to be him?

Why did fate choose to intertwine your paths, only to keep you both apart? So many questions and no answers, only leaving you to wonder about what a cruel twist of destiny the world had granted you. In the midst of the chaos all around you, thoughts of you and him kept flooding into your mind.

“The stars... they look really nice tonight–” You spun around to face Megumi. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” He but he was too busy focusing on you, instead of those stupid stars. To him you were much prettier.

He acknowledged the beauty of the stars. But compared to you, they were a dull contrast. You shined brighter than any star imaginable.

He cast a long glance at your lips before the two of you locked eyes. Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss. He cupped your face with one hand and wrapped the other around yours. You couldn’t help but smile as you melted into his touch.

Another memory rang through your mind.

Fushiguro sat with his back against the wall, statue-still and cold. You reached out to hold his hand but he quickly withdrew.

You tried again but he said. “Don’t.”

His voice was laced with contempt. After today's mission, you were injured severely. And even though all of you came back alive, he couldn't spare himself from the guilt of not being by your side.

“Don’t what?” you asked, flatly.

His jaw locked, and he stared at you with empty eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

He glances at your bruised arms and fist. “I don’t–” He started and then he looked at the bandage that wrapped around your head and the limp you seemed to have on your right leg. “I don’t know what to–”

So that's what it was about. Your injuries…He wasn't mad at you.

He was mad at himself.

You place your hands on either side of his face with a firm hold. “Stop it.”

His eyes still avoid my gaze like the plague. “It’s not your fault. Everyone got a bit roughed up–”

He cut you off. “You were injured the most out of everyone else. And we were just facing a grade 1 curse, imagine if it was a special grade.”

You paused and pondered, what would've happened if the curse was special grade? Well, it didn’t matter now. The important thing is that you were alive and breathing. “There’s no point in thinking about that now. Stop torturing yourself.”

Megumi’s expression didn’t waver.

“I wasn’t there.”

“You were there when I needed you to be.” You said, hands sliding off his face to hold his hands. “I can take care of myself.”

“I swore I would be there for you and I wasn't. I swore to keep you safe and you weren't.” His words pierced your heart like a dagger. You wanted to reassure him that you were okay. That a few injuries meant nothing to you. And that it shouldn't be to him.

“I’m–”

“You were terrified.” His voice was filled with turmoil as he interrupted you. “When you called out to me, I’ll never forget your voice.”

Before he could keep going, you gently placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "I understand why you’re upset," you whispered softly, "But please trust me when I say that I am stronger than you think. Plus after a few days I’ll be as good as new!” You smiled, and you leaned in to kiss him.

As your lips met, you could feel the mixture of relief and longing in the kiss. It was a bittersweet moment for Fushiguro, as he realized that while he was relieved to have finally expressed his concerns, there was still a lingering sadness knowing that he could have done something to change the outcome.

That was the first time you had seen him so worried about something or someone. “I love you.”

Punches were thrown at the concrete, causing the ground to tremble, and you were pulled back into reality. Yuuji was still holding you in his lap and Yuuta was healing you in the meantime applying his reversed cursed technique.

You grabbed him unexpectedly, mumbling softly, “Yuuta... I need him back...” He smiled sadly at you.

“I need to tell him that I love him one last time...” Your voice breaks at the idea and your eyes well up with tears. Yuuta’s hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing it gently.

“He knows.” Okkotsu reassures you, healing all your wounds successfully,“I promise.”

With a trembling voice, you whisper, "I don't know how I'll go on without him." The weight of your emotions hangs heavy in the air, as if silently begging for a miracle to bring him back.

Your face loses all emotion as you wrap your arms around Yuuji’s neck. To help you feel a little better, he holds you close and gently rocks you back and forth. You experience defeat. You can’t help but let your sorrow and regret consume you. As you bury your face in Yuuji's shoulder, you feel a mix of comfort and despair. The weight of your emotions becomes unbearable, leaving you feeling completely helpless. It's as if the world around you has come crashing down, and all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming grief. Your will to live escaping your bloody grasp.

"I’m home, there's moonlight on the river. Everybody dies."

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jjk angst #angst #megumi angst #fushiguro megumi #jjk fushiguro #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #manga spoilers #rose cries ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა #gojo satoru #yuuji itadori #yuuta okkotsu #itadori yuuji #satoru gojo #Spotify

[superums]

why do i cry — 42! miles prt 2.

spidey!reader. angst with happy ending. for general audiences. (cannon) character death. no y/n. childhood friends to crush to enemies to lovers. no official confession but a official confession. part 2 of this fic. somewhat of a accidental confession trope

color coded text: miles. you/spidey.

inspired by: why do i cry - margo guryan

"miles?" you felt like throwing up all over again, looking at the boy you've loved for almost all your life talking down to you. you were almost living the worst day of your life all over again.

you closed your eyes, expecting another barrage of punches only to be met with a hand grabbing your mask. you grabbed his arm but you were too weak to stop him.

in a instant your face was met with the cold snowflakes falling from the sky. readjusting your eyes you saw him standing over you. time stood still—what was a few seconds felt like years, decades.

your body loved faster then your mind did, snatching your mask, you put it back on before leaving him in your wake.

that entire week you genuinely felt sick with heart break. your mother tried to get you out of bed many times but she each time she came your face was wet with fresh tears.

you couldn't tell her why, you didn't want anyone else thinking less of you. instead you told her "i just need time.. please."

she gave you space, cooking your favorite meal every single day until you felt better and each time you did think you were getting better, the image of miles standing over you would come back making you feel sick all over again.

in the four weeks it was almost like you stopped existing from anyplace but your bedroom and in your absence crime started to pick up again, and so did the complaints from the media.

"some hero spidey is huh? kingpin robs bank after bank and that useless web-head is nowhere to be found?! new york this just shows we can't trust that sorry excuse of a hero for anything!"

jonah jameson yelled into his camera—he wasn't alone. from all over new york, anchors were throwing every professional name they could think of at you, miles felt like he was the blame.

in the weeks you've been gone his mind has yet to calm. he was about to kill you, if he didn't take off your mask theres no telling what he would've done.

he's been trying to stay away from you, but now crime is risen and theres been several threats that someone is going to attack the brooklyn bridge he knew he had to find you.

now he's standing in your bedroom. he almost stopped breathing as he stopped your still frame. walking closer, he sat next to your feet gently as he could. it took him forever before he opened his mouth.

"i..." he looked at his gauntlet. "i'm sorry for what i did... what i said." the lack of light of your room hid his the sick look on his face. your eyes were wide open and watering slightly as you saw his dark figure from the moonlight outside.

"i did believe what they said about you—how you killed my father... how you're a murderer... a cowardly killer. maybe since it was....maybe since it was him, it was easier for me to believe." you almost felt sick as you saw him wiping his face and sniffling; he was trying not to cry.

you listened as miles talked to himself out loud; he says that he didn't know how to handle jeffs death and that uncle aaron was the only person he felt like he could turn to.

that he worried his mom because he's out so late and bearly talks to anyone anymore but he has to provide for her now that his dads gone.

it takes him a while to stop talking and after that he sits in your room in silence almost like he was going to say something else, instead he heads to your window.

your open eyes stared into the darkness corners of your room as you contemplated stopping him. you wanted to let him go, you wanted to hate him but your heart wouldn't allow it—grabbing his hand you stopped him in his tracks.

whipping his head to face you, you stood on your knees in your bed, you were visibly disheveled, even shaking as you held his hqnd. "miles, i....." you were fighting back vomit and tears as you looked at the boy you love.

it didn't seem appropriate, he just confessed he wanted to kill you because of the news and that he wanted to make you pay—but you can't hold this in any longer. for as long as you could remember you've wanted to confess to him, now this might be the last time you see him ever you have to get it off your chest.

"miles...i like you—no i love you... even after what you said to me on that roof top." it felt like the world stopped for both you and him, his heart fastened as he stared at you. you closed your eyes, expecting him to leave, to say he had a girlfriend even laugh again you but instead you were met with a hug.

his gloved hand rubbed your back and his head burring itself into your shoulder. "i don't know what i'd do if you didn't..." you two cradled each other for a while before separating to look each other in the eyes. "i didnt mean to hurt you." he says after a moment.

holding your hand, he walked you to your window before opening it again. you squeezed his tighter as you saw him get ready to leave. kissing your cheek, he began to climb out of it. "i'll come see you after school... make sure you're dressed, imma take you somewhere." "y-yeah okay."

your legs felt like jelly as you watched him leave. heading back to your bed, you layed on your back for a moment before turning on your stomach and kicking your feet. "i better hurry up and get to bed.. i have a date tomorrow."

taglist: @lunagalaa @awow-2 @coffeeandtealol

#42 miles x reader #miles g morales x reader #earth 42 miles × reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler miles x reader #atsv headcanons #atsv × reader #atsv imagines #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #spiderverse x reader #miles morales headcanons

[magnoliahwrites]

Lean On Me (Don’t Knock Me Over)

or: harry is a touring musician and you're here to interview him

feat: childhood friendship, flashbacks, friends to enemies to lovers,mention of panic attack/anxiety/puking

note: this is part one of a three-shot. Side note: I made up names for harry’s band, it’s an up and coming pop punk band so there’s that

Much like most things in life, when the paper slid through your desk, you immediately shoved it under the outgoing mail box.

anything that causes you stress immediately went there, a future problem for yourself.

It wasn't until the night before the show, when your manager turned best friend, Cindy sat in front of you tapping her new manicure on the desk in front of you that you even remembered it.

"I just don't see the big deal," she huffs, stopping the tapping of her nails long enough to push her blonde hair out of her eyes, "like, you two were kids. He probably doesn't even remember you. And besides, I have three people lined up who would literally kill you for this chance."

You groan, resisting the urge to fling your body on the floor and ahve a full body temper tantrum.

Instead, you act like an adult and throw a mini fit, throwing your head back and shoving the papers away from you.

"he'll remember me." you groan, rubbing your temples, "It was a small town."

"Good," Cindy shrugs, "Make him regret it, or whatever."

she pauses, and her voice drops, some of the hard that radiates off of her melts away for a second.

"I don't see what the big deal is still," she says quietly, "What happened?"

You remember the first time you heard him on the radio.

Driving down a crowded street in Cindy's car (the kind you could never even think of affording) the sun roof down, your hand out the window as the radio blasts, the sun beating down on your hand.

"This is 93.9 playing the hottest hits of the summer! To begin, we have a new single from Kennedy Curse, sure to get stuck in your head. They're new to the scene, but singer-"

Cindy all but squeals, leans forward to turn the dial on the radio up louder, "I love this band. l've been trying to get an interview with them for weeks.”

You snort as you drum your thumbs on the steering wheel, "Can't imagine it would be hard to get an interview with them-"

"Shh!" She hushes you, leans forward and turns the volume up until the car shakes under you.

"Chipped paint, Carol's gonna turn into dust-"

it was a reflex, a knee jerk reaction, something you couldn't stop. before you even knew what you were doing, you were leaning forward in your seat, slamming your hand against the volume button, immediately a silence falls over the two of you.

Cindy knows you've mentioned in passing an ex boyfriend, a singer, but haven't really elaborated on it. Now, it seems like you don't need to.

"So you'll do it?"

Cindy is all but squirming in her seat as she brings you back to the current.

The sigh is all the confirmation Cindy knows, letting out an ear piercing squeal again, "You won't regret it, i promise!"

She gets up to make her an escape, mentions something about transportation-

"I'll do it, but there has to be rules in place-" You're rubbing your temples, a headache already on the horizon, but Cindy isn't listening, long gone as she stops everyone in the hallway to mention the interview with the Kennedy Curse.

Backstage, harry fixes his hair in a broken mirror.

Something about ten years of bad luck, but he rations that's the problem for the person who broke it, not him-

A stage hand, over worked and underpaid, sticks his head backstage: "harry, Ten minutes.

Someone's here to see you-"

And the show is on.

The smirk finds his way to the corner of his lips, and it's game on. the harry who had a panic attack in the back room five minutes ago is long gone, definitely didn't puke into the garbage can earlier because of the nerves. Instead, it's now replaced by the harry he wants everyone to see; confident, cocky, bold-

"Fans already-"

And he rounds the corner and almost hits you with the door.

he speaks first. A reflex, like he's been searching for the name for months or years, waiitng for it to fall onto his lips again-

he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it.

"Birdie."

The low whistle follows, some bird card be always associated with the nickname, for you always singing with him-even if you insisted you were bad.

it falls flat, feels wrong.

Not the cute nickname it was before, when you two would lie in the shared two sized mattress, harry’s feet falling off the edge of the bed, the sheets thrown over both of your heads for security;

“Birdie," he'd say, his voice low, eyelids heavy. even half asleep, the whistle followed, "I promise, to keep your side of the bed warm, always."

Under the sheets was vows between the two of you, the sillier the better, most of the time, but the hushed voices always told the truth.

Instead, you spoke back, his fingers over your lips, calloused from the non stop practicing, the yanking the garage door open at all hours of the night to practice: "I could find you in a crowd."

He laughs; it's lazy and low, like you both have all the time in the world, and he opens his mouth to say something about his height, but it lays heavy in the air as he kisses the crown of your head:

"And i'll always find you, Birdie."

Seeing him is jarring, to say the least.

The last visit was less than good, yelling and tears (from both of you) things said in the heat of the moment that keeps you both up and tossing and turning-

"It's just my normal name now, thanks." You say quickly, hoping it's dark enough backstage that he can't see the red spread across your face.

"Right," he nods, smirks as he leans against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest, "Well, birdie, I gotta say, you got a lot of nerve to wanna hear me sing after you tossed us into the gutter."

You snort, "Still the victim. i see nothings changed."

"Hilarious," he laughs without humor, takes a step toward you, eyes narrowed, that stupid fucking smirk still pulls at the side of his lips, "I see you're still following me around, hm?"

"God, I can't say I missed this. You're still an insufferable asshole-"

"An asshole you paid to see. So tell me, birdie, which of my songs do you like, hm? Still-"

You want to smack the smirk off his face. You dig your fingernails into your palm into you're sure they're going to bleed, leaving little half crescent moons in the middle of your palms, the same ones he use to study, trace over and commit to memory, kiss them better.

In some sick way, you were hoping you'd see each other and he'd apologize, come home-

"I'm just here for the interview," You shake the VIP lanyard around your neck in his face, "And then you never have to see me again."

His eyes dart to the lanyard and back to you, and for a second, he looks almost lost, like something hangs in the air that he wants to say-

"You have five minutes."

You snort, take the pencil from behind your ear,

"I'll make it two. We won't act like these are some deep songs of yours or anything-"

A local nobody band is opening, the drums are heavy and loud backstage, and the ponding begins the second you open your mouth, like it's planned.

harry leans in closer, grabs you by your elbow,

"Let's make a deal, birdie."

You act like you don't hear the low whistle fall out after the nickname.

"Listen-"

he cuts you off, "You listen to us and i'll do the interview, no bitching, after the show. we can go to the bus-"

the look you throw him is irritated and he huffs, holds his hands in the air, "Fine. I'll take you to a fuckin' restraaunt. I'll be on my best behavior, i'll have your manager eating out of your hand after this interview. Scouts honor."

He makes a show of crossing over his heart, holds his hand open in the air.

The smirk never leaves his face, even when your eyes narrow as he sets his hand between you two.

"Deal, birdie?"

You don't speak, eyes narrowed, but your hand slides into his like it never left.

It feels like you're making a deal with the devil.

#magnolia writes #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles one direction #one direction #one direction fic

[comfortless]

I have some thoughts about König I wanna run by you. 

I really like the concept of him following rules to the letter, but not the intention. 

like he would never steal from friends, but that only applies to items, job opportunities, romantic interests, and ideas don’t count. 

he would never cheat on his lover, EVER! but…that doesn’t mean he can’t entertain thoughts of the nice recruit who for sure has a crush on him, he could lead her on just a lil bit, live off the attention when he’s deployed and claim ignorance if anything gets serious. 

oh and he would never hit you, of course not! but if he got you riled up enough or angry enough to throw a punch his way he could hold you down and restrain you so you don’t hurt yourself, he’s not a monster for kind of liking how you struggle to break free from his grip, and he’s barely even exerting any energy, it’s a safe kind of powerplay to him. 

ok i am listening and nodding my head yes!

König didn’t get the positive attention he so craved when he was younger, so any little bit of it he can grapple at is his for the taking. He’s a bit impulsive.

Mental health and repercussions are not at all relevant to him when he sees something that he wants and is within the realm of possibility for him to attain. He would have a sort of conniving way when it comes to going about these things, too. It isn’t intentional, but to him, his reasoning is absolute. Probably gets that from his father, but he prefers not to think of that.

He’s no master manipulator here, just a man that is very aware of his few talents. He’s not even good at telling a lie, far too blunt and always speaking the first thing that pops into his head.

There’s a promotion at work another operator is vying for? Well, he’s far more suited for it anyway— look at him. He’s big and good with his weapons, handles them nicely and can plow through an enemy with as much ease as he can a wooden door. His confirmed kills far exceed the number of things that his parents could find and scrape together and deem themselves proud of him for. König’s not entirely withdrawn, either, his people respect him. Some might even admire him a bit, wishing they had the things that he never even asked for: his height, the creepy look upon his face, his lack of hesitation when pulling a trigger or burying his hunting knife in another man’s guts.

They’re on good terms, still on good terms even after he presents his argument as to why he’s just that little bit more deserving. He doesn’t need to bring up his childhood or much of his past to anyone here, but he knows down to his very marrow that people tend to think there’s something off or wrong about him and in turn he’s met with pity or fear. He utilizes it, gets what he feels he deserves by coming off gruff and demanding, even whiny if the situation calls for it. Time and time again, he comes to realize it’s much easier and more rewarding for him to play people like toy soldiers in these situations.

He might not be able to get a girlfriend in any authentic way, but as Ghost said in her reblog here, I do think he would have at least tried a tryst with a friend’s girlfriend at some point. König could reason away any guilt. She came onto him, batting her lashes and wearing that low cut blouse while telling him about just how selfish her man/his friend was in bed. And when it ends terribly as these things do, he’ll learn his lesson well enough, gives some hashed apology over a pint of ale. It doesn’t mend a void, only forces another distance between himself and another person. König is more than used to that.

It is always the wrong thing said or done, always a ship with no harbor to dock. He would have friends, yes, but it’s up in the air as to whether or not any of them last very long. He’s self aware enough to realize that he creates these problems, that he could have just done x instead of y, but there’s this tentative, newfound pride wrought up within him that he doesn’t ever let go of. He doesn’t want to be seen as that weak little boy he once was. Apologies are like pulling teeth, even getting one from him is a big deal.

It isn’t his fault he didn’t get as much pussy as any other man and surely… any true friend of his would know enough about him to accept that he was not entirely the one at fault here. Richtig..?

He’ll be happy to take credit for a job well done. It wasn’t his idea to burst through that door and clear out a room of enemies, but he did the work. He deserves the praise, the increase in pay, whatever benefit he can gain from it. It didn’t matter that Fender barked out the order over the comms, warned his team of potential danger, what matters to König is that he got it taken care of with no casualties on his side.

New recruits come and go often, and more often than not, they’re horrified of this giant that outranks them. König still hasn’t mastered any way with women, but he’s been fortunate enough to land himself a sweet, cute girlfriend that waits for him at home. He’s not an idiot, either, knows a little romp at work isn’t worth a thing in comparison to her and would only add another fire to the desolate world he lives in in his head. His girlfriend’s the only garden he has, and he would rather damn himself entirely than ever see something he loves burn.

So, when one bold woman does approach him, placing her hand on his arm and complimenting his stature, he doesn’t feel a thing except some strange twist of pride.

He’s come a long way from the boy who was ridiculed and bullied relentlessly, worked himself tirelessly into becoming this broad mimicry of a god made flesh. But fuck. The attention is nice. He would compliment this recruit’s aim from time to time, pat her on the head like a good little dog when she takes out an enemy or stacks on extra work for herself. It never goes further than that, but she practically eats out of the palm of his hand, begging with her eyes rather than her voice to ask for a night with her colonel.

And when he’s on leave, and his girlfriend is asking why this woman is texting him so often, he shrugs and casually tosses her his phone. He’s got nothing to hide, hasn’t even entertained the thought of sleeping with this girl. If anything, she reminds him of himself before he ever got laid. That desperation is certainly there, and it does kind of unsettle him. Is this how he came off to women before…? A pitiful little thing that just wants to be loved and cared for?

He doesn’t even respond to the recruit’s messages, even when there are so many of them. He kisses his girlfriend everywhere, fucks her like it’s the first few times all over again, and falls asleep nestled up against her. There’s no room in his heart for anyone except the object of his affection, but a part of him does hope this lost little lady finds her own sliver of heaven too. He knows how she feels and hates the thought of making a woman cry outside of fucking her well. So he lets the recruit down easy next time they meet, tells her he doesn’t care for relationships at work, that he loves his girlfriend and he doesn’t want to hurt her. It’s spoken candidly, and doesn’t leave any room for discussion.

Shame about the lack of affection while deployed, but he’s managed on his own longer than most. He’s got an entire album of pretty photos of his girl in and out of the lingerie he bought for her to keep him company, anyway.

And admittedly, arguments with his beloved turn him on.

They both know that she can’t actually hurt him. When her hand is raised to give him a good slap for being a complete asshole over something as trivial as a cashier for accidentally ringing something up twice, he’s already hard. The grin on his face is nothing short of ugly, because he knows how this ends, the same way that it always does. He would take her wrist only after she’s hit him, let her stew in what she’s done, murmur her apologies through stilted breaths and lashes heavy with tears. She tells him she just doesn’t understand why he is the way that he is sometimes while trying to wrench her hand away from his grip.

He’s not rough enough to hurt her when the argument sparks up again, even guides her down onto the floor with a steady hand on her back while she pleads with him for answers that he just doesn’t have. He would go back to seeing a regular therapist for her, maybe. He would do anything for her and that’s just another thing that they both know.

“Heh… you like me crazy,” König would breathe into her hair when her thighs are locked around his middle. Poor thing can barely speak when she’s exerted her energy trying to best him in a battle she could never hope to win. She’s all whimper and no bite, nails raking over his shoulders with each slow, teasing thrust.

“Look at you.” He practically purrs when her face is taken into one callused palm, brought forward to lock eyes with him when the sounds spilling from her lips grow more needy. And then he gives her the fucking she deserves, rougher when she’s sighing his name and trembling from the residual waves of her own orgasm. It didn’t matter who was right or wrong anymore; argument long-forgotten, buried under a blanket of white heat. He chases his own end, lets her watch him unravel all for her as his seed fills her, spills out where they connect to make a mess of the carpet below.

He’s selfish in those ways.

#syl getting carried away again? imagine that! #Kö headcanons #<- i need to start tagging these! i keep losing ‘em! #as usual you lot are geniuses we are all sitting at the lab table constructing the most vile most perfect man