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aethelwyneleigh27 · 6 days

Text

Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

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razzle-n-dazzle · 2 months

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hello, friend!! i saw your adam hcs and i loveddd themmm!! i was hoping to request smth if that’s okay? could we get lucifer with a reader who also struggles with depression like he does (it’s mentioned in episode five if you didn’t know!!) and maybe reader had a practically rough week and gets home from work and just breaks down in tears, and luci find a way to cheer them up? either fem! or gn! reader if that’s chill, tysm for taking your time to consider this even if you don’t get to it!!

— 🪽anon

ᯓ★ "Give Your Corpse Some Smile Lines." Lucifer / Reader | Oneshot TW! Read at your own risk and comfortability! | talks about depression, suicidal topics/actions, overdosing topics/actions, reader breaking down, hurt to comfort, self destruction, abuse

ᯓ There are days and weeks, sometimes months and years, that prolonged like time, made it appear like it no longer moved and served a purpose. Like time was nothing but a feign idea that was made to torture everyone and anyone who dared think about it, who dared to calculate how it traveled and how long it took to pass a minute. And some days it made people want to break, and some day it made people want to kill other people, and some days it made people overjoyed, and some days it made people excited, and some days it made people nervous, and some days. . . It made you want to die.

ᯓ To be killed in the most brutal fashion known to man, to explode in a death either as silent as taking your own life in your own home or as bright and fantastic as the explosion of fire works. Time for you was never a friend and it continued to taunt you after you had died, overdosing on the pain medication you were prescribed after a horrible accident. Horrific! You had heard people call you, friends and family, after they saw the state of your decaying body after being rammed by a truck who lost control. Monstrous! None of them chose to stay around, none chose to help you when you were at your weakest and worst, when you could barely help yourself. And all you had done back then was help them! Was care for them! Be there for them at any time of the day whenever they needed, whenever they wanted, whenever they asked or called or texted or shouted or pleaded or-

ᯓ And it was a coward move, you were sure. Weak, many would call it, blasphemous and you were sure it was why you never got into Heaven despite having done everything in your power to be okay, to be the perfect person everyone wanted, to be good. But one night, when everything was moving too slow and no one seemed to blink twice at your presence, you would take your own life in silence. To overdose on your own pills, both praying it wouldn't work but gain the attention of someone yet also praying it would kill you and finally let you live in peace. In a world of black nights where you didn't have to open your eyes no longer, where time wouldn't be creeping over your shoulder, where nothing would hurt anymore because dammit. . . everything hurt.

ᯓ IT ALL FUCKING HURT.

ᯓ And then you ended in hell, and then you realized this would be your life . . . and then you realized you were still stuck with your worst enemy of all: Time. Forever stuck in an eternity after life, forever stuck here by yourself, forever being another face in the crowd or another person on the street for people to pass by and not think about twice. Someone. Just someone! Not even someone, no one. Just a shell, just a person decaying on the streets, decaying for all to see. A pitiful show.

ᯓ You could hardly remember when you met Lucifer; Maybe you were down on your luck one day and was eating cold Ramen out of the streets and he took pity to sit by you, to talk to you. Maybe it was when you were at a bar, downing another drink to forget the fact that you were chained down here, chained to your enemy, chained to your eternity of a never ending moment of the hands of time. Maybe you were working your minimum wage job to barely survive, or maybe you bumped into him. You memory hadn't always been good, party due to your own mental health and a constant flight or fight response, yet you had always knew life to be so bleak before you had met him. And then one day, everything was slightly a bit more okay. And slowly everything was a little more barrable; Even just slightly.

ᯓ And maybe a life can be handled in eternity, and you didn't have to be alone anymore . . .

ᯓ Yet, no matter how much anyone wished, love cannot fix all problems. Love can teach you how to heal, love can teach you how to live, love can teach you how to handle everything inside of you in a better manner than self destruction. But love cannot instantly fix everything wrong with you; You should have realized that sooner.

ᯓ You lived a life nothing short of a fairy tale for the last few months, living life alongside a partner who you could share the weight of the world with. Who felt comfortable enough to share the weight of the world with you. Where in the days you both laughed and played, pushing and pulling each other, peppering kissing on skin and longing ones on the lips. And at night you cuddled against each other, both with the fear of losing, both with longing, both just enjoying the company you now had, that you could now share. You've already shared tears, concerns, worries, troubles. You've both been vulnerable under the other's eyes, staining shirts under the other's careful and cradling hug, broken down and rushed out apologies. You've already both taken care of each other, took your time and held patience with each other and you both tried to heal the broken pieces of one another. Most would call it a disaster, a tragedy, yet for you both . . . it was like some sort of twisted hope, knowing you were no longer alone in your self deprecation. Knowing that even if either of you tried to self destruct everything around you, tried to gain that control that's slipping away, tried to push the other away, they would understand and be there. That in the end of the day you had someone to crawl to.

ᯓ Yet even with constant oxygen and wood, a fire can still grow dim in it's own silence and try to snuff itself out.

ᯓ This week had been long, it had dragged you by the heels and you could no longer put the energy to fight against it's slowing seconds. Working a minimum wage job, even after Lucifer had told you that you never had to again (yet you continued to do so for some sort of feeling of schedule and stability), that you hated and wished you could quite for a paycheck that wasn't even that high to withstand the abuse you had to. Lucifer constantly worried about you, about how the job affected you both physically and mentally. You often came home either drained or hurt, as costumers tended to get rather violent down in Hell. It was common to be stabbed during a shift and having to endure it until your shift was over. Effectively causing you to bleed out while still having to rep a costumer service smile. And the stabbing might not even be the worst part of everything; As you had to try many times to bite back any sort of emotion, ire and frustration and sorrow, as costumers yelled, screamed, tossed shit your way for a mistake you didn't even make. And yet it was your fault. It was always your fault and you couldn't do anything but stand there and take it, as your job would be on the line if you did anything other than stand there and take the anger and take the frustrations and the yelling and the stabbing; Being everyone's personal punching bag without any sort of composition.

ᯓ What was the point of it?

ᯓ The thought had came to you one day after you came home, slugging your shoes off your feet and tossing your keys onto the counter. Lucifer wasn't home, he usually was, yet you guessed he had something better to do than hear your sorrows of the day. You would want to do anything than hear about your sorrows as well, you couldn't blame him for trying to avoid you. So you dragged yourself to the bathroom, heavily sitting down upon the close lid of the toilet before sinking down some. A hand rested upon your stomach, the knife that pierced through your side slid in between your fingers like it didn't draw your blood out. Like it wasn't causing you pain; not even the worst pain in your life, just pain that poked and pricked and brought tears to the eyes, but you were no stranger to tears or to blood. You were no stranger to the bruises that covered your body from angry costumers, from the blisters that grew from harsher treatment, from the blood that seeped and stained. And maybe you should take care of that wound, but it was best to keep a knife into the wound than take it out; It stopped bleeding and you hadn't stained that much, you didn't think, and you were oh so tired so maybe. . .just a nap would help. It didn't have to be a long one, yet something in the back of your mind hoped it would be, and you leaned your head back against the back of the toilet. The light above gave out a buzz, showing it was working, sounding that it was on and here.

ᯓ Yet a nap sounded nice.

ᯓ "Honey! I'm home!" Lucifer shout, a cheerful laugh followed and a careful grin was stretched on his face as he tried to balance the bags of groceries that were in his arms; Trying to make his one round of bringing groceries in to work. He didn't want to drop a single one of them, "I'm sorry I took so long, yet I went to the store and wow! There were a lot of options for things that I was sure I would never make it out of there! Did you know that there's like. . ." Lucifer would pause to count his fingers, having successfully delivered the bags onto the counter without breaking anything, ". . .15 different brands of milk?! And they had like this Milk called Almond milk, where they apparently milk the almond and I don't know how they do that but-" Lucifer's voice fell flat as soon as he noticed you weren't around, at least, not around as usual. By now you would have sprung from the couch, or yelled at him from the bathroom that you were doing your business, or came from the bedroom to wrap him in a hug. Yet your presence was absent and it didn't allude Lucifer, at least, not many more. "H . . . honey?" He would call out again, this time with a more shaken voice and frowned eyebrows; His smile no longer held the confidence of a man who managed to do one round of bringing groceries in with 13 bags.

ᯓ And yet you didn't respond to his call, how could you when your own breath was so shallow your heart was speeding up, stressing, just to pump blood through your body; And Lucifer grew worried. It would triple upon seeing the mess you had left, a mess that hadn't caught his eye until now. . . Your shoes left lazily by the door, your keys stained with blood. Blood that streaked like a hand across the counter top and traveled inward, towards the bathroom and it's door that lingered tauntingly open. And instantly, Lucifer felt his mouth run dry and his feet speed towards the bathroom with nothing but horrible thoughts piling up in his head. You were hurt and you weren't answering his calls. You were hurt and you weren't doing anything to signal to him that you were okay. Are you okay? Are you dead? Oh god he hoped he didn't get to that bathroom door and see your dead body there, all stained and pale. Please don't be dead, please please please. . . "OH MY GOD!-" Lucifer hated to admit the way his body froze in horror by the doorway, one hand clinging onto the frame and the other shot up to cover his mouth. He hated the way his feet stuck to the ground like they were rooted, forcing him to look at your bleeding and barely breathing figure on the floor.

ᯓ And no, he didn't miss the way your blood was smeared on the toilet. He could never miss such a detail when your blood was the last thing he ever wanted to see seep out of your body and pool and stain everything around you.

ᯓ "Oh fuck! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" The words fell out of his lips, fell onto deaf ears, as he ripped his rooted feet off the ground and rushed over to you, to your body. He felt dazed, confused, unsure of himself all of a sudden. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? "Hey, don't be dead come on!-" He didn't realize he was rambling to himself as he kneeled down next to you, not minding the way your blood seeped and stained his white clothes. He shuffled around, looking for your wound, looking for something he could fix to help you! He was so panicked, and had to stich up your wounds so often, that the thought of calling a doctor didn't cross his mind. Lucifer was hesitant to touch you, but didn't want to hurt you, "Wound, wound wound! Where the fuck is your wound?!" He asked before spotting the knife that was jagging out your side. It was mostly covered by your body, as he had happened to kneel down on the opposite side of where your wound pierced in. "Oh fucking duh, it's where the knife is. Nice job Lucifer can't spot a fucking knife when your lover is bleeding out on the floor!- Shit wait I need to actually take care of that. Fuck! Where the hell is the first aid kit?!"

ᯓ To say Lucifer was freaking out during the whole process of taking out the knife, tossing it to the side to be picked up later, disinfecting your wound, trying to stitch it up with shaking hands, and wrapping you up. . . would be an understatement. He was terrified to hold you, afraid he might make the wound worse or he might put you in more pain, yet somehow managed to move you from the bathroom floor to the couch in the living room. He would have put you to bed, at least provided your body a little more comfort, yet he was afraid to leave your side. Afraid that if he took his eyes off of you that something might happen, that you might roll onto the wound and break the sticking, that you might just stop breathing as a whole and leave him alone.

ᯓ He tried calling Charlie to help, yet physicked himself out right before he was going to press the call button. He needed some sort of help, he couldn't go through this alone, yet he didn't want to put his daughter through this either. All he could really do was find himself sitting in front of the couch, head resting upon the cushion, watching your chest rise and fall with heavy eyes; Just to reassure himself you were still here, that you were still alive and you could wake up. Maybe tomorrow? Hopefully. Maybe he should bring you to a hospital. Either way he was here, waiting, hoping.

ᯓ Fuck . . . He didn't know what he would do if you didn't wake up. But you did! By some grace of god you had happened to wake up in the middle of the night, the day after Lucifer had found you. He hadn't been awake, and you were barely moving due to the pain that jabbed at your side. Though you noticed the weight that indented the couch by the edge, slightly turning your head to see Lucifer's crossed arms and nuzzled head into it; He was sleeping, leaning against the couch while sitting on the floor. Drowsy, tired, you glanced over at the couch, wondering why he was sitting down there instead of up here with you. When did you even get to the couch? And then you noticed how you were wearing some of his clothes, with the shirt pulled up to expose your wrapped chest, the bandages still a stained a little crimson red. And you frowned, eyes heavy, looking down at the wound and realizing, at least to some sort of extent, why he wasn't up here. You had scared him . . . A heavy sigh left your lips as you reached a hand out, shaking, as you leaned down into the cushions. Gently, you placed your hand on top of Lucifer's, trying to intertwin your fingers without waking him. If anything, by the way he looked, you were sure he just managed to fall asleep . . . and most likely passed out from exhaustion rather than willingly succumbing to slumber.

ᯓ Though feeling the sudden warmth on his hands, and being half-awake and half-asleep in general, Lucifer's eyes fluttered open despite being rather heavy. He felt heavy, he felt tired . . . yet his hand felt warm, causing his eyes to glance down and notice your hand on top of his. Your hand, your thumb rubbing against his. "Love?. . ." He would mumble out, hoping this wasn't a dream, as he gently raised his head. You noticed the way his eyes sagged a little, his eyelids clearly heavy with eyebags starting to form under his eyes. The frown that had been on his face, tugged down out of pain, began, sluggishly, to tug into a warm smile. "You're awake. . . how are you feeling, do you need anything?" The way his voice croaked, clearly tired and clearly worn from tired and sobbing. His disheveled look, the way his hair was more frazzled than normal and the way his clothes were stained. It all made you upset; Not at him, no, you could never be upset at Lucifer. You were upset at yourself. For causing him so much pain, for making him probably so worried and panicked with the crawling thoughts of your death if he dared to ever take his eyes off of you.

ᯓ Lucifer, waiting for your answer, would gently bring your hand up to his cheek. He had missed your warmth, you had been so cold when he touched you last to move you from the tile of the bathroom floor to the plush cushions of the couch. He was glad that the warmth had returned to body, that he was able to watch your eyes sparkle in the dim lights that flooded in from the kitchen stove hood.

ᯓ His eyes were so gentle, his smile was so genuine, and all you managed to weakly croak out was a, "I'm sorry." And you felt bad feeling the warm tears starting to clump up in your eyes again and spill over. And you felt horrible as Lucifer shot awake, seeing your tears through the light of the kitchen, and rushed to bring his free hand up to your cheek to wipe away your tears. "I'm so sorry Lucifer I. . ." You would choked out, unsure what else to say. How else could you apologize to Lucifer when you knew that you had laid there, on the toilet, with the intention to hopefully die. And you didn't know how to tell Lucifer that to his face, especially when you've never had to tell anyone who's gotten as close to you as Lucifer has that you've thought about killing yourself. That you tried to plan it out in your shared home. Where you knew they would find you. Where you knew. . . "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're-" Lucifer paused for a second, glancing down at the side of your stomach. He had to reassure himself that you were alright before trying to comfort you, "-okay. You're okay now!" Lucifer grinned towards you, a little nervous at first before it fused out into more worry. "You're awake and you're not dying and it's okay! We can. . . talk about it all later okay? Just focus on getting better."

ᯓ You both would sit there in a comfortable, slightly-comfortable, silence as Lucifer stared up at you, and you stared back down at him. His hand, after having cleared your tears, hand reached up to play with your hair, trying to coax you back to sleep. Even when you knew he needed sleep himself, with the way his heavy eyes closed for long periods of time before opening again to meet mine. "Come here. . ." You would mumble, trying to reach for Lucifer, wanting to feel his warmth against yours. He was hesitant to do so, you could tell by the way his eyebrows scrunched upward and the frown that tugged on his lips. It took a while to coax him onto the couch, where even then he gingerly laid on his side and wrapped his arms cautiously a safe place above your bandages and nuzzled his head between the crook of your neck. You were able to play with his hair this time, give him a soft peck on the forehead. A silent apology for all the pain he had to endure because of you without you there to help, without the support he had shown you countless of times without fail.

ᯓ "I. . ." Lucifer's voice warily mumbled out, ". . .thought I was going to lose you." And the way his voice cracked broke your heart into a million pieces. And the only pathetic response you could muster back to him was a soft, shaken, "I'm sorry." As tears silently began to fall down your cheeks, and you could feel the silent tears that fell from Lucifer's eyes stain your neck. "I'm. . . so, so sorry. . ." "It's okay. . ." Lucifer would hug you a little tighter, "We'll work through it together, you're not going to lose me that easily, even if-" He would pause, choking out a bit of laughter between his tears, "-you try yourself."

ᯓ Oh. . . he knew. . .

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house-of-daena · 7 months

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knocking on your door. hi. let me in. i have thoughts. i am not insane.

thinking about all the segments + original again. how they’re all possessive in their own ways over the one they all call their lover.

like the ones who like to wake you up by giving you head, whatever you may have been wearing now off to the side as their head is buried between your thighs, their drool and your releases coating your thighs by the time you try to sit up— just to see these smug bastards pull their head back and smile with those sharp teeth with a singsong “gooood morning~” before going right back to it and wringing another orgasm from you.

the absolutely insatiable more biological segments who have you fuck them against any door within the palace or whatever fancy hotel dotty funded you all to stay in. they’re taking advantage of tinted windows and their flexibility every time, a leg thrown over your shoulder as you slowly thrust up into them, tongues intertwined as they cream yet again on your cock, begging you to keep going ♥︎ fill them ♥︎ claim them ♥︎ use their body until they pass out from pleasure ♥︎ getting caught doesn’t matter to them when you pump them full of another load, since they’re too far gone the moment they have you where they want you— deep inside, bulging their pale tummies and proving your claim over them by painting their insides

good old fashioned segments like omega who like having your hands all up in their wired guts, learning their fantastical anatomy just to plunge their own arms inside and mess it all up. they come to you with their legs almost shaking from anticipation, voices trembling from the sheer desire and ‘adrenaline’ when they wait outside your office, and they’re such greedy but good boys, kicking their legs in the air as they sit on the edge of your operating table like the cuties they are. they bite at their artificial skin with their faux teeth, their eyes following you every moment that they detect you in the same room as them.

YESSS THISSS omggg this is so real ..

more utc

honestly they're all soooo needy n possessive,, they often fight who gets to spend time with you 😊 they seem all so innocent and sweet in your eyes but behind your back they're giving each other death glares and competing with one another !

it'd be such a delight to wake up to one of the cutie segments just sucking you off or desperately riding you, grinning ear to ear... they have tears in their eyes as they take you deeper, their hands trembling as he holds onto u for dear life... then they cry out when u paint their insides with your delicious cum they've been craving, only to start moving for more... other segments peeking through the open crack of the door and whimpering at the way u grip their waist to thrust up into his greedy hole, eyes all locked in creamy ring around ur cock that connected the two of u... ohh they're all seething with jealousy.. but they're all jerking off, sososo depraved n horny just by watching..

having the segments feels like u have so many dogs to care for! they all try to be good, but they're just. .. too needy! all the fuckin time too, n it doesn't help that prime always what's you for himself, making the segments even more desperate...

u visit one of them in one of the regions they're assigned in because you had a mission n decided to see em? expect to have a giddy segment on his knees, pawing at your pants and begging to suck you off, step on em, slap em, spank em, anything and everything. just pleasee fuck them pleasepleaseplease and you haven't done anything to them yet and they're sobbing already, so fucking hard that pre is seeping through their pants... loves it when you bend them over, fold their pliant bodies and manhandle them, fuck em in a mating press and just plunge it so deep they can feel it in their stomachs.. them clench onto your cock, their walls memorizing the shape and girth, the pleasurable burn at each drag...

they need to take and take because they know once you leave, they're not having this again in a verryyy long time as much as they know u wanna give em all their much needed attention. they're no satisfied easily, no noooo, they need you to groan in their ears that they're yours! make em feel loved by promising to breed em and make em pregnant, so they won't have to be jealous cuz you've filled em up with ur kids n they're sobbing at the thought, absolutely elated when they see their tummies slightly bloat at how much you've cummed inside of them... oh you best believe they're gonna plug themselves and holding onto your cum when you do leave, , they wanna savor the warmth.. though they're gonna struggle walking for a while cuz every step , they could still feel u inside of them..

omggg the older segments created more mechanically? hehe, they're always at your door! hell, they're probably lined up outside your office, waiting for you to fix them 💔 oh but you know that they intentionally get their insides all mangled, so you'd shove your hands arms deep into their intricate guts,.. make the others waiting watch you literally play with his system, making the poor segment overheat and almost making them shut down at the verge of overwhelming pleasure. you had to create a feature that stimulates a copy of a human orgasm and oh gods they love it, sososo much they don't want you to stop until their processors are fried! they want u to trace your fingers on their metallic bones, thumb their wirings and rub their sensitive sensors... thier voices glitching the more they scream n more, body twitching and spasming the more you 'fuck' them dumb...

wanna fuck with them? turn off the feature and practically edge them for houuurss till they're a crying mess. they plead for your touch, but you wrech a loose screw and he keens 💞 they wish you can fuck them like the others but fuck, just tug on a wire and it has them throwing their heads back. oops, they mightve messed up their sensitivity... on purpose 😊😊

#» asmo talks about wife #» mutuals: pulpbeing #they play tcg and whoever wins gets to spend time with u if prime allows it #» asmo's thirst talks #sub dottore #dottore smut #sub genshin #genshin smut #sub genshin impact #Thankkk YOIUUU so much for the food nex #kissing you /p

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thexianzhoujade · 2 months

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「 sugar cookies | fanfiction 」 wriothesley x gn!reader | fluff, modern!au | valentines fanfiction. ↳ additional tags. established relationship, potentially ooc wrio, a tiny bit suggestive? baking, not proofread as of right now !! ↳ happy valentines, loves !! ♡

data has been uploaded! @soleillunne, @dumbificat, @lovingluxury, @starryshinyskies, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @ainescribe

the jade's guidelines | genshin masterlist | send an ask to join the jade's taglist! specify genshin, honkai or both

with the temperatures now starting to pick up in fontaine, WRIOTHESLEY is fully aware of what holiday is to come. how could he not be? the pink and red merchandise plastered in every shop window, cute cartoon hearts decorating usually ordinary packaging and of course the sweet - but suffocating - scent of roses the moment he enters a supermarket.

winter beginning to fade out only meant one thing... valentines day. as someone who works fairly remotely and only converses with prisoners on the daily of the city's local prison, wriothesley never had a reason to celebrate valentines day. in fact, he would sometimes be caught sneering at the obnoxious colour scheme every time february wrapped around. he'd even go as far as turning his head away, wishing for anything but the twenty-four hours to pass over.

that was until just under a year ago. under the peer pressure of a few friends - namely clorinde and navia, out of the goodness of their hearts, - he'd decided that maybe blind dating wasn't so bad. his tiring routine he'd burned into his mind was beginning to make his body and mind both ache equally as much and all he was starting to think about was a change in his life.

wriothesley was perfectly locked into his habit of waking up early, working at the prison, commuting home and going straight back to sleep but... where's the fun in that? and as navia had quite teasingly stated, he was starting to waste his life away as a workaholic.

that's where he met you, after all. someone who turned a blind eye to the awful schedule of his work rota and that growing collection of different teas he stashed in his kitchen cupboards. in turn, the growing collection was now tucked neatly in your shared kitchen cupboards instead.

now he had a reason to stare at the brightly coloured gifts and cheesy slogans, taking every single factor about you into consideration when it came to the smallest things about valentines; including the card, yes. it took wriothesley an hour and navia's quiet begging for him to choose a card for you, his first valentine. at least, the first one he'd ever cared to delve this far into valentines gifts for.

"you're hopeless," navia whines under her breath as the two exit the store, opening the iced coffee she'd purchased from the chilled section (and i quote, how else was she going to put up with him?), "i didn't think i'd ever see you take valentines this seriously."

her comment perks his attention from his phone, where'd he been texting none other than you whilst you was on your break at work. he makes a noise before chuckling, deep and hearty as he adjusts his tie awkwardly. there's a heat creeping his neck as he clears his throat, eyes darting anywhere but the fashionable blonde as she sips her aforementioned iced coffee with a smug smirk.

"yeah, well - i don't care," he retorts boldly and navia almost spits her coffee out, giggling behind her hand as she covers her lipgloss coated lips for some form of dignity, "sometimes i wonder why i'm still friends with you?"

"rude. anyways, i'm the reason your social circle is so big now. i'm glad i don't have to watch you work yourself to death anymore." navia sighs, shaking her head as the conversation takes a vulnerable turn for the both of them. wriothesley can't deny that despite how much they bicker from siblings, she's always cared for him with good intentions. there's a moment of him debating how clorinde bagged such a kind-hearted girl before he almost makes himself chuckle at the thought.

large calloused hands rummage in the reusable bag you'd shoved into his chest before you hurried out of the door for work this morning, mindlessly checking over all the gifts and ingredients he'd acquired with a slight break in his bank account. your boss had called you in for the morning, already throwing a spanner in the works of your valentines day preparations however they promised you'd be free before lunch - which meant the baking you'd been so excited for could still go ahead, according to plan.

later that day, in the midst of wriothesley fumbling around in the kitchen cupboards as if he was lost in his house, you arrived home. that shift had been less than ideal, adding onto your frustration of being called into work in the first place. yet the grin that etches onto your partner's stubbled face draws you from that frustration; it calms you, eases you into the comfort of his burly arms when you rest your head against his chest and forget your worries.

"work was that bad?" wriothesley's voice murmurs in your ear and you can barely stifle a nod, nuzzling against the warmth radiating through his clothes as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head.

"that bad," you mumble in response, sighing as you force yourself to pull away from your boyfriend's hypnotising hold before you fall asleep standing up, "time to bake out my anger - what recipe did you end choosing?"

"sugar cookies," wriothesley seems quite proud of his choice, a calloused hand gesturing towards the numerous multicoloured sprinkles he'd prepared on the kitchen counter - knowing him, that could be very well the only ingredients he brought, "you know, with that heart cookie cutter you begged for the other week?"

a playful scoff leaves your lips, a gentle hit of your hand against his shoulder as you brush past him, rolling your sleeves up to your elbows so that you can start the tedious process you'd signed yourself up for on this fateful valentines day. the soft hum of wriothesley reverberates around the kitchen of your shared home, sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window and basking in the potted plants you'd decorated the windowsill with.

your friends had been dubious about you moving in so soon with wriothesley but you knew only a few months in that you would trust this man with your life. despite his gruff, solemn demeanour, wriothesley was in your eyes perhaps more akin to a deflated puppy from all his years working in the prison, lacking social experience outside of the prisoners and co-workers he'd dip into conversation with daily.

strong arms wrap around your waist whilst you're busy measuring out ingredients, your eyes narrowed in focus as your gaze darts between the electronic weighing scales and the flour in your unsteady hands as wriothesley takes to wrapping himself like a koala around your body; he's inseparable from you, unable to stay away for mere moments as if you'll disappear if he doesn't have his rough hands somewhere on your soft body.

"i'm trying to focus..." you huff under your breath, biting your tongue as wriothesley rests his chin on your shoulder, watching your precision intently as the warmth of his breath tickles against your neck. it makes your hairs stand on end but not as much as the gentle kiss he presses to your exposed shoulder. you almost elbow him in the ribs for the minor distraction.

"i can see that," he chides with a grin, brushing his stubble against your skin and you really can't say no when a trail of kisses litters your skin from your shoulder to your collarbone and neck, "happy valentines day, darling."

"happy valentines day," you sigh softly, giving up on your endeavour to measure ingredients successfully under these circumstances. you place the opened bag of flour down, leaning back onto his chest in defeat, "i hope you choke on these sugar cookies later."

wriothesley chuckles, his thumbs rubbing rhythmic patterns on your hips where his hands are positioned, holding onto you tightly to stop some manic villain possibly ever stealing you; hey, it's possible! the man lets out a content exhale, appreciative of the warm comfort you give him outside of the gruelling job he'd thrown himself into for a living, "i love you, i really do."

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

#( sealed letters )#© thexianzhoujade #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #wriothesley

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wynsummers · 8 months

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i've been thinking about the whole "friction in his jeans" thing a lot lately, and while it is certainly one of the more iconic instances of the lyric in the CD booklet being different from the actual song, it is far from the only one. on top of that, there are quite a few lyrics that play with double meanings that only become clear when they're written out.

so, i present a collection of every lyric in the fob CD booklets that differ from the final version, punctuation and double meanings that aren't noticeable unless the song is written out, and any other interesting details i find in the process, or a really long post of me cornplating about fob:

disclaimer that if the difference is small enough/doesn't change the meaning of the line i won't include it because that would take me years (for example, the book says "light that smoke for giving up on me" and patrick says "yeah, one for giving up on me" but literally who cares that changes nothing. everything i include here is relevant, i think)

follow-up disclaimer that there are a bunch of fucking typos in every single one of these books because these boys never proofread anything but unless i think it's significant in some way i probably will skip it

TAKE THIS TO YOUR GRAVE:

tell that mick:

"I hope you choke on those words, that kiss, that bottle - I confess / now ash yourself out on the insides, when I said I loved you I swear I lied"

grand theft autumn:

"someday i'll appreciate in value, get off my ass and call you... but for the meantime i'll sport my brand new fashion of waking up with my clothes on at 4:00 in the afternoon"

saturday:

"pete and i said goodbye to astoria with promise and precision and mess of youthful innocence"

(most of these are just silly but this one fucking hurts)

sending postcards:

"fake it like you matter - cause that's the biggest secret you have to keep"

chicago is so two years ago:

"that means that I believed every single lie you said (and learned from the best)"

"cause every pain of glass that your pebbles tap negates the pains i went through to avoid you / and every little pat on the shoulder for attention fails to mention i still hate you" (pain of glass instead of pane of glass - i think this is supposed to be a parallel. that or pete just misspelled pane)

patron saint:

"I'm holding out and I'm holding on to every letter and every grudge"

*flashes forward 20 years to hmlag*

anyway

FROM UNDER THE CORK TREE:

our lawyer made us change the name of this song so we wouldn't get sued:

"we're good friends only when you're on your knees"

sugar:

the icon, the legend

"don't mind me, i'm watching you two from the closet wishing to be the friction in his jeans" 🎉🏳️‍🌈

dark alley:

"joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of 'just friends'"

"I'm hopelessly hopeful that you're just hopeless enough"

champagne for my real friends, real pain for my shrimp friends:

"you steer away in a rearview mirror, make my head swim"

i slept with someone in fob:

"someone old, no one new / always borrowed, always you"

THIS ONE!! THIS FUCKING ONE [CAR CRASH] [SIRENS]

ahem. anyway

sixteen candles:

"i confess, i'm just messed up / dropping 'i'm sorrys' like you're still around"

XO:

"to hands"

(that's it. no "between legs, and whatever it takes" just hands. just fuckin. to hands)

"to hotel stares/stairs" (wordplay!! to clarify it literally says "stares/stairs" in the book)

"choose awe or sympathy"

also in the last verse it says 'to the "love"' with the quotes which is just kinda funny

INFINITY ON HIGH:

this ain't a scene:

"crashing not like hips or hearts"

i'm like a lawyer:

"i only keep myself this sick in the head cause i know how the words get you (off)"

"collect the bad habits that you couldn't bare to keep" (idk this one might just be a typo)

hum hallelujah:

similarly, this might also be a typo, but "versus" is spelled "verses"

(after) life:

ok. ok. hear me out. this is the cornplatiest i have ever been. but on genius it says "death's in a double bed"

and on the lyric book it says "deaths in a double bed"

that changes everything!!! (not really, i know) it's not death as a concept or figure or whatever it's deaths. as in multiple people dying. aaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaughhhhhhhhhhh

moving on

carpal tunnel:

"we take the sip from life's lush lips"

the line "we might've started singing just a little soon" isn't listed, it's just the goodbye line twice

"but i'm just tired yawns for fawns"

you're crashing:

"the cause, the kid, the charm, and the curse"

ginasfs:

"lips pressed this close to mine"

"but the prince of this failing empire knows" (hhhnnnggggggghhh)

"i've already given up on myself once but the third time is the charm" that's not how numbers work pete <3

"just kind of figured on not figuring myself out"

FOLIE A DEUX:

folie a deux doesn't have a lyric book. just portraits of the boys with empty white pages that have their names written on them. my poor beautiful masterpiece

BELIEVERS NEVER DIE VOL. 1:

fnowae:

not a lyric but for some reason the whole fuckin song is in quotes

SAVE ROCK AND ROLL:

the phoenix:

another punctuation thing but instead of "hope to die" it's "hope-to-dies"

"you're wearing our vintage misery"

alone together:

"my heart is like a stallion, they love it more when it's broke in" instead of "broken" (i love double meanings!! i love wordplay!! i love pete wentz!!)

where did the party go:

"i will appear to you if you make yourself shake fast enough"

the mighty fall:

the lyric book straight up doesn't have big sean's part 💔

rat a tat:

at the end there's this "talk less / mean more / let's be electric / like we were before" that i have literally never heard so i'm assuming it's a neat little cut lyric

save rock and roll:

"i will save the songs / the songs we're singing"

AMERICAN BEAUTY / AMERICAN PSYCHO:

irresistible:

"coming in announced" this one. this one's just a typo. come on boys it's been 12 years at this point read the books more than once

"i just dragged my nails on the tile / i just follow your scent" ?? idk

"this will not be a battle"

ab/ap:

for some fucking reason it just says "she's an american beauty" three times at the start of the song 😭

"and as we're drifting off to sleep" isn't in there, it just says "and all those dirty thoughts of me, they were never yours to keep"

the kids aren't alright:

indulge me once more, reader. i am cornplating again

instead of "former heroes who quit too late and just wanna fill up their trophy case again" it's "wanted to" do you understand why that makes me insane

also they have it as "will put your curse in reverse" instead of "we" which could be a typo but could also be a neat little change

uma thurman:

"you cut me deep like uma thurman"

jet pack blues:

"i'm the kind that can turn june to september / the last one that you'll ever remember"

"between these two white highway signs"

immortals:

"i try to picture you without me but i can't"

M A N I A:

hold me tight or don't:

the line "i'm pretty sure that this isn't how our story ends" isn't included

wilson:

"i know it's just a number but to me you're the 8th wonder"

sunshine riptide:

they didn't include any of burna boy's lines 😒

SO MUCH (FOR) STARDUST:

smfs doesn't have any lyric changes that i noticed, just the usual typos.

update: future emma here, upon further contemplation I have decided to add the line "I'd never go, I just want to be invited" since the first verse definitely says "I'll" (thank you sugarweregoinin and foliejpg for inspiring this revelation)

and there we have it! if you're insane patient enough to have made it until the end, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed! if there are any i missed/any in CDs that i don't have please let me know i find these so fascinating (if you couldn't tell). i just love getting glimpses into their writing process and seeing how the songs we know and love evolve before they get to us. i might also do a post about how spotify/genius gets a bunch of their lyrics wrong because it pisses me off but this is all for now, good day/night!

#fall out boy #fob #i can't believe i spent four hours on this #take this to your grave #from under the cork tree #infinity on high #folie a deux #save rock and roll #american beauty/american psycho #mania #so much (for) stardust #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley

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queer-n-here · 25 days

Note

UHM-UHM-

Yeah I have no shame to just not ask anonymously- anyways!

May I please request a 6'1 reader who is stoic, bold, also handsome as Dazai but ain't a womaniser, and is VERY quiet. With Dazai. He works at the ADA with him. He follows Dazai around like literally, he acts and opens up more to Dazai than he does with others, he literally doesn't care if Dazai was In the pm (they met at 14) or abt his crimes, he can read Dazai's emotions And can see through him, they R lovers, he is loyal asf to Dazai. He Also is rich asf and has better fashion tastes! Pls make both a oneshot or hc or ANYTHING ABT THEMMMMM

(I'm very desperate BC of a certain fantasy of mine)

Ah, I gotchu you bruv.

[ Also, let's do a little quiz. What country do y'all think I originate from? Like, based on my language and writing and just... Yeah.]

And yep, I'm double posting today!

Canonically, there are no mentions of Dazai's past before the Port Mafia, so I made stuff up. Hope you like it!

Contents: Uhh...a lot. I got... *winces* I got carried away.

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, suicide and violence, Dazai's life is sad and so are these hcs.

You and Dazai met when you two were 14 each. It was a chance encounter, really. Both of you were orphans, and both of you were ability users, even though Dazai knew more about his ability than you did yours.

Both of you currently had no one in the world. That was the key factor that brought you two together. Struggling to get by and find a place of your own in the world, you met.

Neither of you opened up at first, cautious and calloused as you both were. It just happened; it didn't happen one particular day, and before you two had realized, you'd become each other's sole support.

You turned fifteen, and three months later Dazai met Mori.

He told you about it later, describing in the sort of detail no one else would get to hear how he'd rescued the Port Mafia leader from an enemy gang, unintentionally impressing him and securing Dazai a place in the Mafia.

You didn't like it. The job was dangerous, and you didn't want Dazai's hands to get stained with blood. When you told him this, he laughed it off, and said that he could handle it. You dropped the matter.

He was wrong.

You watched as Dazai changed, despite his promises and assurances. He grew ruthless, cruel in a way that made you ache as you watched him, silent. He started hating everything, even himself, and sometimes you thought he hated you, too.

He had a beautiful heart, you knew. But Mori was destroying it.

You talked to Mori about it, too. You might not have anything on him, yes, he was richer and way more powerful, but you had your ability, and you were ready to fight to death. Before you could, however, Dazai intervened.

That was the first time you two fought. After that, you went to him and told him you wouldn't care if he didn't want you to. If he wanted to keep going down the path that he'd chosen, you wouldn't stop him.

Sometimes, you look back and wonder if there was something you could have done for him other than what you did. You still can't think of anything.

You opened up a small business after that, and it slowly grew to a scale larger than you had expected.

Then you two turned eighteen. Finally, you were able to register your enterprises under your own name, being a legal adult. You and Dazai got wasted that night, and you watched fondly as he tried and failed to put his coat on so you two could go and meet Ango and Odasaku.

They had probably begun then, your feelings for Dazai. You were only comfortable enough with him to actually talk, and not just say what was absolutely required and then shut up.

He knew you in a way no else did. No one else knew what it looked like when you smiled, or threw your head back and laughed freely. No one else knew what it was like when you cared, when you brought over Dazai's favorite refreshing drink every time you visited him in summer. Or when you helped him change his bandages, touch gentle and careful against his soft skin.

And you knew him the way no else did. No one else knew what it was like when he was genuine, when he'd look up at you with earnest eyes. No one else knew what it was like when he flushed slightly, the red of his skin always starting from the tips of his ears and descending to his cheeks. No one else knew what it was like when Dazai protected, when he offered to use his contacts in the Mafia to get rid of your competitors, even though you declined every time. He had enough blood on his hands without you pitching in.

Eight months after that, he left the Port Mafia. He came to your apartment crying that day. His face was ashen, his shirt was covered in blood and his lips were trembling. The tears that had been collecting in his eyes for who knows how long finally spilled when he saw you, and the only thing you could do for him in that situation was open your arms and let him cling onto you. He kept saying 'Oda's dead... He's dead...'

That night, Dazai changed. Thankfully for the better. That flame in his eyes was gone now, the one that made you worry if he would burn himself and the world.

Dazai slowly stopped hating after that. You and Ango were the only two he trusted, the only two he would be genuine with. He didn't close up in a way that hid his smile, or in a way that made him withdraw from people. Quiet the opposite. He pushed himself outward, adopting a cheery persona that joked around and bewitched everyone.

The only smiles that weren't created but slid across his face on their own were ones that he smiled with you, and Ango.

You couldn't help but feel slightly bittersweet. Dazai was out of that hellhole, that cursed gang that was making his heart black. But Odasaku was dead.

After that, as your twenties arrived, Dazai joined the Armed Detective Agency. You were happy, then.

You two celebrated at a lavish restaurant. Your business had grown to be Japan's No. 1, and the money that spilled in with it was something neither Dazai nor you had expected.

But your hopes for the ADA were too high. Sometimes, Dazai still wanted to leave. He said he wanted to kill himself, and even though he would always laugh it off, you couldn't help but notice that his eyes would always grow hollow when he spoke of it.

And so the only thing you could do was love him. You loved him and tried your best to let him know, buying him unnecessary gifts and putting him on top of your mental priority list. Even your staff knew you loved him; it was apparent and obvious.

Dazai was probably the only one that didn't notice it, that genius dumbass.

And so you tried harder. You had never been good with words, but you tried to be vocal about your feelings, telling him he was cute when you thought so, and saying that he looked good when he did.

Dazai still didn't notice. The day he found out was when you got drunk and blurted it out.

You still don't have a lot of memories from that night, and Dazai says that you passed out soon after confessing. He finds it funny now, even though he didn't back then.

Your confession made Dazai pull up a wall against you. This surprised you, hurt you, and you tried apologizing, tried to get him to just talk to you. You told him that it didn't matter if he didn't return your feelings.

Something was hurting Dazai, you could tell. But he just wouldn't talk to you, going so far as to changing his phone number without telling you.

So you showed up at his workplace. Kunukida knew you by sight; you often came to pick Dazai up from work. You two had a big fight, shouting in one hallway of the agency building, making such a ruckus that Ranpo and the others came over to watch.

It ended with Dazai turning around to leave, and you were planning to let him go. But then you saw a tear glisten at his cheek last moment, and hence gave chase.

You chased him down all the way from Yokohoma to Kawasaki, only stopping when Dazai collapsed in the middle of a street, his frame shaking with sobs as he started hyperventilating. You crouched down beside him and pulled him to your chest, rubbing his back and conducting his breathing, your voice soft as it told him to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale....

He fell asleep on your shoulder, in the middle of nowhere. You carried him back to your house, and tucked him into a warm bed. The next morning, he wouldn't meet your eye.

Usually, you would have let him; there was hardly anything that Dazai would do that you would disapprove of. But lately, you had been going against his wishes a lot, so you decided to do that one more time.

When he tried to leave, you pinned him to a wall and forced him to look at you. It wasn't difficult, Dazai had never really worked out, even as a part of the Port Mafia. His fighting style was more quick and clean moves than brute strength.

It worked well in your advantage as he tried to struggle against your hold and failed miserably, tears collecting in his eyes and threatening to fall.

It was alright after that. You asked Dazai why he tried to run away, and the only thing he said was that he got scared. He chose not to explain, and you chose not to push him.

"Dazai," You said. "If you want me to disappear from your life, I can do that." He looked up at you, eyes wide and blurred. "But there's one catch. You have to say it. Say it to my face, tell me to leave, and I swear on my own life, I'll vanish. You won't ever see me again." And then the tear that had been collecting in his eye all this time fell, sliding down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. His arms went limp in your hold, and he wobbled forwards. You caught him as he fell, and he sobbed into your shoulder again. His hands were clutching at your shirt as if for dear life, and even as you rubbed his back, more tears fell from his eyes. You held Dazai through his breakdown. The next time he spoke to you, he said the words, "I like you too much." It was a silent confession, almost muffled into your shoulder as the post-crying exhaustion overtook. You pulled him closer and pressed a kiss into his temple.

Now, everything is good. Dazai's job at the ADA does worry you sometimes, even if it's for the good, it's dangerous, but you know he loves his job, no matter how many jokes he makes about Fukuzawa's violation of the Labor Laws. And he loves you, that's all you've ever needed.

Being in a relationship with him is not always easy. He still speaks of dying, and the thought of him leaving you makes you panic. Sometimes, you still don't know what to do to make him feel better. But you manage to work through it.

You love Dazai, after all. You have ever since you two were kids.

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #bungou stray dogs #sub bsd x you #sub bsd #bsd x you #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub character #sub character x you #sub dazai #sub dazai x you #sub osamu dazai x you #sub osamu dazai

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fantasyinallforms · 9 months

Text

Alright, we've got to talk about this scene because for a scene as short as this one, it packs a huge punch! They manage to cram a frankly impressive amount of information into less than a min. This will be a long one so strap in and let's start at the very beginning, right after Ori asks, "What about Bilbo?"

Up until this point, we have only ever heard Thorin's voice crack once. Just once, and that was when he thought that he missed his chance to enter Erebor. A huge defining moment in this quest. The second time was right here when he said, "Give him more time." Please note how Thorin is standing. Hands pressed together and head bent, his back completely turned to the mountain. He doesn't even turn his head until Balin utters the word "Killed".

Now Here Thorin says, "You're afraid." He does it in an almost accusatory way and directly after Balin finishes his above sentence. I truly think this is because he has been sitting here dreading Bilbo's fate for hours. This, combined with the dragon sickness that's starting to take hold, wreaking havoc on his psyche. In this moment, the lines between Bilbo and the treasure are getting blurred. His face is a picture of discontent and fear. So in usual Thorin fashion, he lashes out. He voices his fear to Balin as an accusation. I don't think anything articulates how bizarre Thorin is acting more than the below gif.

Balin fully leans away from him in shock, eyes searching this face before going on to say that he fears for him with tears in his eyes. Thorin is at war with himself. He's at war with the growing greed pumping through his veins, and how much he cares and worries for Bilbo. His love for Bilbo is winning because he is desperately forcing himself to detach Bilbo from himself. They go out of their way in the next 13 seconds to tell us that multiple separate times! I will break those down for you now.

Let's start here with this line and how it's said. Time and time again, clearly on and off screen, Thorin has shown his regard for Bilbo. The handful of time we see is not enough to invoke this strong of a reaction from Balin, a Dwarf who has known him his entire life. Would not hesitate is a powerful choice of words. Think of the things you would not hesitate to save from death or destruction. They're all things you love, things you can't live without. That is what Balin is implying Bilbo is to Thorin. Balin knows the depth of Thorin's affection.

And here we have the response and the third time we ever hear Thorin's voice crack and stutter. He chooses to call him "burglar" and forces the words out through his teeth like a curse, like he's fighting something. The statement in and of itself is an obvious lie. He has risked his life for Bilbo multiple times. The trolls, the cliffside, even when Bard threatened them, and he practically glued himself to Bilbo's side.

That brings us to this moment. This is right after the dragon's roar. The look of pure panic at Balin's words. He looks at the door, and the battle between Bilbo and the Arkenstone flips to Bilbo like a light switch. In this moment, Bilbo is more important. He rushes through the door into fiery danger, and the relief in his voice when he sees Bilbo, is clearly audible. Now we all know in the next scene, he holds Bilbo at sword point, and it flickers again. After that, however, Thorin's sickness seems to reconcile Bilbo and the treasure as one thing. Why else would he give him the second most valuable thing in the hoard? Treasure can't steal treasure.

I do have a theory that if Bilbo had revealed the stone, Thorin would not have been upset. It was only when he gave it away that it was deemed betrayal in the highest order.

#bagginshield #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thilbo #thorin oakenshield #bilbo x thorin #thorins company #deep dive

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narutocharacterpolls · 8 months

Text

ROUND FOUR

ROCK LEE vs HATAKE KAKASHI

Reasons for submission under the cut

Lee

ROCK LEE VS GAARA

kind as can be; willing to jump to action to help his fellow comrades even after going through a life-threatening, major surgery

practical and fashion-forward with his bright green onesie. Function over form, and is prepared at all times by carrying around a spare onesie he will give without question to anyone - even complete strangers

has a surprising edge to him at the beginning of the series; he was ready to severely maim anybody that he saw as a genius

more dedicated than anyone. Was forced to face his own mortality and make a life-or-death decision in the name of his dream, after a literal crushing defeat, and he chose to fight for it. Inspiring

embodies the ideals of original series Naruto. True underdog, had nothing going for him, came from nothing with no legacy or powers, was so disadvantaged that he physically could not meet the bare minimum abilities of his peers. But he worked harder than everyone else and proved that he can be a great shinobi despite all the adversity he faced

Sasuke had to copy Lee’s moves with his Sharingan to succeed during Chuunin exams

cute as a button. Come on.

his fans are dedicated and make amazing work, fanart and fanfic

Kishimoto said he was his favorite character to draw. Boom. Favoritism. Love to see it.

pairs well with everyone. Platonic or romantic, Lee has a great dynamic with other characters

his summer outfit from Guardian of the Crescent Moon Kingdom was the best outfit in the movie

gave us Metal Lee! Blessed us with Metal Lee, really

was the character to beat in the early series if you wanted to show how strong you actually are

Gaara vs Rock Lee was one of the most iconic fights in the series, and everyone remembers where they were when they first saw Lee drop his weights. He owned that fight so hard that people forget he lost.

was wronged by the series. He deserves to win as justice.

got [submitter] personally through the worst times; his ability to persevere face of adversity convinced me I could do it too. He wasn’t special and neither was [submitter], but we didn’t need to be. We can make ourselves great. If no one else got me, Rock Lee’s got me

he’s one of the first non-jutsu using ninja so make such a big impact

was the first person to actually harm Gaara

played a huge part in Gaara becoming a better person

he’s one of the only people that can catch up to Sasuke and easily rivals Naruto in Taijutsu

his kind, determined and cheerful attitude is a joy to watch

Rock Lee removing his weights is easily one of the most iconic moments in the entire anime

has helped several submitters feel better by simply thinking about how he wouldn’t want them to think like that

objectively would’ve made a better protagonist based on the themes alone

KICKS MAJOR ASS

wrecked Sasukes shit, I like Sasuke but that was really funny

he looks like a frog. Who doesn’t like frogs

inspired Sasuke

fights are always entertaining, they’re very well choreographed

he forgave Gaara for nearly killing him and nearly ending his dreams; he was never even mad at him

Rock Lee vs Sasuke was iconic

his heart is so full of love

never did anything wrong

had a squirrel befriend him

hard worker

good friend

rises to any challenge

when he does diss people they are the most brutal yet entertaining disses you ever hear

positive, weirdo, energetic, enthusiastic, joyful, chivalrous, motivated, dedicated, sweet

Lee and Neji had something homosexual going on

YOUTH !!!!

Kakashi

relatable as an adult

he is just an overworked guy who was told to watch some kids w LOTS of issues

needs therapy

good presence and guidance in Narutos life

interesting

cares about and is dedicated to his students very much

he is just cool

he is trying his best despite what he has been through in the past

is up for having fun but still knows when to be serious

was a narcissistic shit but grew out of it

has good intentions

sexy

wonderfully complex and well developed character

incredibly resilient and supportive

a sad and deeply broken man

always willing to give his life to protect them and his other precious people

just wanted everything to be ok for once in his life

hated Danzo

his friendship with Gai is adorable

the way he teases Tenzo is fun

he’s known as cool and aloof but in reality he’s a huge dork

Gai would want him to win

#bestnrtcharapoll #naruto #polls #rock lee #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #id in alt text

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ichorai · 9 months

Text

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

track ten of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

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

words ; 16.2k

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

warnings / includes ; drugs, alcohol, depictions of abuse, mentions of death, hospitals, a lot of sexual jokes and general foul language, reader accidentally walks in on roman jacking off, reader is logan's goddaughter, a lot of business talk, roman being an asshole

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Pain was an old friend of Roman’s. A friend of shadows and light, a simultaneous whisper and scream, a slap and a smile. It followed him throughout his childhood, where his father had beaten him with his leather belt for spilling a cup of orange juice all over an expensive carpet. It followed him throughout his teenage years, when his mother admitted to him that she never quite loved him. It followed him into adulthood, seeping into every porous crack of his being as he so desperately tried to wrangle it away. The pain was a friend, but it still stung no matter how much of a familiar presence it was.

There were very few constants in Roman’s life—there were his siblings, who were far too erratic to be considered constants. There were his parents, both of which were neglectful and abusive in their own ways. There was the pain, sure…

And there was you.

You were his father’s godchild, having been a close family friend of the Roys for as long as Roman could remember. In every one of his blotted, hazy memories of his past, he could faintly recall you always being there, a beacon of light within the desolate seas of his adolescence. Roman didn’t like admitting it, but you were the closest thing he had to an actual friend. How you’d witnessed dozens upon dozens of his beatings, and in turn, never laid a cruel hand on him. How you’d offer him sweet smiles and comforting words—words that he pretended not to listen to, but he did. He always listened.

One of Roman’s earliest memories with you was when he was seven and you were six. He had pulled his mouth open excitedly, leaning forward to show you the gap between the bottom row of his teeth.

“You lost a tooth?” you had asked, voice lilting with jealousy. He’d lost far more teeth than you.

“Yup.” He didn’t want to tell you that he’d lost this one because his father had backhanded him over his jaw.

“Can I see it?” you asked, childish curiosity dancing over your irises. He held out the small tooth in the palm of his hand, watching the way your expression melded into one of excitement.

“If I put it under my pillow, I’ll get a quarter,” bragged Roman. He knew he wouldn’t—there was never any money under his pillow when he’d lost teeth in the past. Maybe the tooth fairy didn’t care about him enough, just like his mom and dad.

Your eyes widened. “I want a quarter.”

“Lose your own tooth, then.”

You smiled, roguish and wide. “Or I could just take yours.”

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon gleefully chasing each other in the large, manicured yard, until you were both damp with sweat and your chests rose and fell in haggard, breathless motions. The tooth was long lost, abandoned somewhere in the grass, but the two of you had somehow completely forgotten about it, anyway. When the pair of you came slinking back inside, tracking mud and dirt onto the pristine floors, Logan yelled at his youngest son until he burst into a fit of hiccuping tears—but Roman tried not to think about that part as much.

Another one of Roman’s prominent memories was during a New Years party. He was fifteen, picking at his nails in a bored fashion, sipping on a drink that most definitely had alcohol in it, but nobody cared enough to stop him. Dozens of faceless people strode by, laughing and dancing the night away. It was only minutes before midnight when you approached him, a flustered wave of heat sewn over your cheeks. The two of you were practically attached to the hip, so it wasn’t at all a surprise to Roman that you’d come seeking him out.

“Hey, Romeo,” you said, offering him a gentle smile. The affectionate nickname was one that only you called him—one that Roman often pretended to gag at but really, he couldn’t get enough of hearing you call him that.

“Hey, fuck-face,” he responded, earning him an amused wrinkle of your nose. You were so pretty then, beneath all those dewy chandelier lights. “So, are you, uh, planning on kissing any of these corporate cocksuckers tonight?”

You exaggerated giving his question a long, hard think, sweeping your gaze over the mingling crowd. “Well, my options are between an old white man… and oh, look at that—another old white man. I’ll give it a pass.”

A snort fell from his lips. “Yeah, well, there’s me. I may be a pasty white, but I’m not old. I don’t look a day over forty.”

It was your turn to laugh, though it was more of a scoff than anything. He took another sip of his drink, before grimacing and setting it down by the edge of the table.

When the clock struck midnight, you leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, but for reasons unbeknownst to him, he turned his head at the very last second so that your lips fell against his. You pulled away quickly, eyes wide. Roman could feel his heart sinking down to his stomach—oh, he fucked up. He fucked up bad. He wanted nothing more than the ground to open and swallow him whole.

Though Roman had expected you to crack a joke about how gross he was, you did nearly the exact opposite. You smiled, tilting your head to the side.

“Happy New Year, Ro,” you whispered.

The two of you never spoke of the kiss again.

As the years flickered by, you and Roman were near inseparable, especially once you landed a top manager position at Waystar thanks to your godfather, Logan.

It was his eightieth birthday, and you along with the rest of the Roy family gathered at his lavish house to surprise him. He seemed none too pleased at the sight of a dozen people crowding the entrance to the elevator, but he went on to hug his kids nonetheless.

Then his gaze swung to you, and you suddenly felt like an eight year old again, cowering beneath his scornful gaze with bated breath. Unlike Roman, Logan never laid a hand on you—though you weren’t exempted from his sharp insults and ridicule.

“Hi, Uncle Logan,” you said, trying your best to smile in a way that didn’t seem unnaturally forced.

Eyes brightening, Logan wound an arm around you, catching you off guard. “Y/N, my dear, it’s been so long! You look beautiful.”

“Ah, thanks—thank you. You look great, as well.”

You glanced at Roman, who gave you a thumbs up and mouthed, cocksucker.

Once Logan pulled away to go greet Connor, you jabbed your elbow into Rome’s side, who snickered under his breath.

Soon after, Logan herded all his children off to another room, leaving you to greet Rava and her two kids with a kind beam. When Roman came slinking out of the room a few minutes later, he made a bee-line for you, a wiry smile on his face.

“What happened?” you asked, placing a hand on your longtime friend’s forearm. “What’s going on?”

“Dad fucked Kendall. He’s staying on as CEO.” Roman burst into a fit of giggles.

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s—that’s not funny, Ro. Why would he stay on?”

“I don’t know, because Kendall is a limpdick with bad ideas?”

Before you could respond, Logan burst into the room, shouting, “LUNCH!”

It didn’t go past your notice when Roman tensed beneath your touch. You squeezed his arm reassuringly, before gently nudging him into the dining room to be seated by a motherhenning Marcia.

The hospital was a cold and foreboding place. Logan had collapsed in the helicopter on the way back from the softball field, and never before had you seen Roman look so terrified.

In the waiting room, Rome paced back and forth along the seats, his large coat suddenly looking twice its size and his knuckles digging into his squeezed-shut eyes as if he were a kid all over again.

You took his hand, gentle and slow, lacing your fingers with his. There was a pause when Roman gave you a sidelong glance, the air stilling between you.

“It’ll be fine,” you whispered, voice warbling. It was clear to the both of you that you didn’t quite believe in your own words. But he leaned into your lies nonetheless, like a fly driven to honey. “Ro, it’ll be okay. It’s Logan—he’s… he’ll fight through.”

The man sucked in a breath. Instead of replying, he pulled his hand away from yours and continued his pacing.

Hours later, you were curled up on a seat, eyes drooping with exhaustion. Rome sat on the floor in front of you, the back of his head resting against your knee. You knew he was stressed, wanting to sign off the papers as per Logan's wishes, whilst Shiv and Kendall were starkly against the idea.

“He’s not gonna die,” Roman mumbled when Shiv began yelling at Kendall for discussing who would take over the business while Logan was unconscious in the other room. Then, he turned to look up at you, desperate to hear you backing him. “Right? He’s not gonna die.”

“He won’t,” you told him, brushing away a stray strand of his hair from his face. “It’ll be okay.”

Shiv’s tired eyes darted back and forth between the two of you as she huffed out a sigh. A large part of her had always felt jealous of your relationship with Roman—how you weren’t even dating her brother and yet you seemed closer to him than she would ever be with Tom.

When the doctors told the family that Logan had a hemorrhagic stroke and it wouldn’t be wise to operate, they moved him to a much larger and fancier room to keep a close eye on him. It wasn’t long before Kendall, Shiv, and Rome broke out into another large fight over who would take the company. To your surprise, Roman had even offered up himself, which was quickly shot down by Kendall.

“He was fucking playing you to get you to sign the change of trust! Do you even know what it fucking involves?”

Roman reared back, both of his hands resting on his hips. “Are you calling me a dipshit?”

“No. I love you, man, but you’re not a serious person.”

Clearly upset, Roman strode away from Kendall, making his way to you and curling up by your side, his arm thrown over your shoulders. “Fuck you, Kendall. He’s alive, and you’re not the fuckin’ boss.”

A headache began to pound at the forefront of your head. “Guys, can we please not do this right now? Please? Can’t this wait until morning, at the very least?”

A frown graced Kendall’s weary countenance. “You’re not even a part of this, Y/N—”

Roman’s grip on your shoulders tightened. “Hey, don’t you talk to—”

“Stop!” Shiv barked out. “Let’s not throw shit around. We’re right in the middle here—we just sit tight for now. No sudden moves.”

“Well, we need to move! The markets are going to want to know who’s behind the wheel. We need to control the narrative.”

Rolling his eyes, Roman scoffed, “‘Control the narrative.’ You probably yell that when you cum.” Obnoxiously, he stood up and rounded the couch just behind you, pretending to thrust into it while moaning out control the narrative!

“Ro, stop,” you gently reprimanded, which made him straighten up with a sharp clear of his throat.

“Fuck you,” Kendall hissed. “We’re in a goddamn hospital. People know. We have to say something!”

“No, actually, we don’t!” retaliated Shiv. “Nobody knows how serious it is, so we don’t have to say anything.”

The siblings burst into another round of arguments, and you finally got up onto your feet, effectively silencing them.

“I’m just gonna—I’m gonna go home,” you said, voice quiet. It filled you with hot shame when tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed, tired, sick of all the fighting, and worried for your godfather. “Can one of you please just… let me know if he’s okay?”

“Oh, yeah, uhm… alright, uh, sorry if we…” Roman made an incoherent gesture before roping you into a one-armed hug. You kissed his cheek, before turning to do the same to Shiv and Kendall. As much as they all frustrated you, they were practically your family—the people you grew up side by side with.

The three siblings watched as you gingerly shuffled up to Logan on the hospital bed. He was breathing funny—tubes up his nose, chest rising and falling shallowly. Your bottom lip trembled as you fought to keep the tears at bay. Sniffling, you leaned down to kiss your godfather’s forehead, before straightening yourself and walking back.

As you made your way out of the hospital room, you could hear footsteps shuffling after you. You turned, eyes softening upon seeing Rome leaning against the wall, acting as if he hadn’t been following you.

“You okay, Rome?”

“Yeah, I’m just—seeing you off. I don’t know. Can’t trust hospital hallways these days.” There was a melancholic look to his face. A plea for you to stay was on the tip of his tongue—how was he supposed to go about pretending like everything was fine without you there to back him?

With a gentle sigh, you leaned forward to press your nose against Roman’s cheek, forehead resting against the side of his head. “I’ll see you soon, Ro. I just need to be alone for a bit. Is that okay?”

He swallowed uneasily. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s—fuck. That’s okay.”

You gave him a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s a good boy,” you teasingly said in an effort to make him laugh.

Rome stepped away from you, scratching the back of his head and chuckling nervously. “Hah, yeah, fuck off. Bye, dickhead.”

“Bye, Romeo,” you replied with a certain kind of tragic fondness, and he turned to stiffly walk back into the hospital room.

After several nights of limited, restless sleep, you found yourself back in your office, leaning back in your chair tiredly. Hundreds of emails flooded your computer screen—a large portion of them asking about the wellbeing of your godfather. It made you angry—almost irrationally so. You didn’t know. You didn’t fucking know a single thing. The constant reminders that you didn’t know anything about Logan’s fate weren’t helping one bit.

The glass door to your office was pushed open by none other than Roman, the new COO, sporting a tired grin.

“God, my back is fucked from this new trainer I have,” he announced, groaning as he sank into one of the pristine seats in your office.

“You have a new trainer?” you asked, grateful to take your attention away from all those damn emails.

He scratched at the back of his head. “Yeah—I don’t know. Just trying it out. Whatever.”

“Shame, we could’ve worked out together,” you absent-mindedly responded, getting up from your desk chair to sit next to him, burying your face in your palms. “I could use the distraction.”

Because you weren’t looking at him, you missed the way Roman’s features softened for you, his hand patting your back.

“I saw dad a while back,” he said, voice suddenly small. “He got like… tubes and shit up his nose and—” The words caught in his throat.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, shutting your eyes for just a second.

“I think I’m…”

“Scared?” you tried to finish for him when he trailed off.

There was a long pause before Roman cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay to be scared, Ro,” you said, lifting your head to meet his gaze and offering him a kind smile. “I’m here for you.”

Abruptly, Roman pulled away from you, standing up despite his stiff back. “Ugh, fuck. Don’t—don’t make those eyes at me.”

Brows kinking, you crossed your arms. “What eyes?”

“Those fuckin’... seductive eyes—I don’t know!” he glared at you before waving the matter away entirely. “Whatever, I just—”

“Ro,” you interrupted, voice still kind despite him lashing out. “I understand you're stressed out, but don’t make things weird between us because you’re so out of touch with your emotions.”

His voice raised an entire octave as he protested, “I’m not stressed. I’m fuckin’ peachy. Peachiest fuckin’ peach that’s ever peached. Look at me!”

“I’m looking,” you said, unimpressed.

With a frown, he made his way to the door. “You know what, fuck off. I came here to take a nap but I guess I’ll go find a breakroom or something.”

You narrowed your eyes, knowing damn well that he had his own lavish office to lounge in and he was just trying to make you feel bad for him.

“I’ll come by later, Ro,” you told him. “We could get lunch?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever, fuck-face.” His words were harsh as ever but you could see right through his facade—he just needed someone to be there for him.

He disappeared out the door, and you blew out a long sigh. Two hours flew by, and you managed to answer all your emails and organize some files, constantly interrupted by people coming in asking for you to sign contracts you barely cared enough about to read.

When your lunch break finally rolled around, you were quick to dash out of your office, eager to get away from work for a bit. The atmosphere around the building was so different now—what with Logan temporarily gone and Kendall as acting CEO, Roman as COO.

You made your way to Roman’s office, eyebrows raising upon seeing that all the blinds were shut. Well, he had mentioned taking a nap. With pursed lips, you quietly pushed the glass door open, ducking past the beige-hued blinds.

Immediately, a breathy whine hit your ears accompanied by the unmistakable sound of—

Your eyes widened upon seeing Roman facing the window, both hands down his pants.

“Oh, my god—oh, fuck—” you began, hurriedly backing up against the wall and throwing a hand over your eyes. Startled at the sudden noise, Roman turned his head over to see you blindly grappling for the door, trying your best to duck past the blinds. Before he could say anything, you were blurting out an apology, rotating on your heel to quickly throw yourself out of his office.

Fuck, Roman thought. His dick was even harder than it was before. Aroused shame curled within his stomach when he resumed touching himself, this time your shocked features imprinted into his thoughts. His forehead fell against the window when he came, a string of obscenities falling from his lips, and your name tumbling out with them.

Lunch with Roman didn’t happen—you were far too embarrassed to answer any of his texts (he had spammed you nearly twenty separate messages by now). By the time dinner came around, you were just getting ready to go home when you heard a voice say, “Knockity knock knock.”

Roman came into your office without knocking.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he plainly stated.

“I’m just busy,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze, cheeks burning.

The man across from you tilted his head. “Look, about what you saw, back there—”

“I didn’t see anything,” you quickly said.

“Okay, well, you want me to explain it to you? I had my hand down my—”

Hurriedly, you shook your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even go to your office today.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, before smiling in a mischievous manner, patting your flushed cheek twice. “Look at you, you little liar! Come on—let’s go get dinner. My treat.”

Begrudgingly, you followed after Roman, allowing him to pull you into a car, and then into a fancy restaurant you couldn’t even pronounce the name of, and hoard you into your seat. It was nice spending time with him—even though you’d walked in on him jacking off in his office earlier, he was still your best friend nonetheless. Besides, it wasn’t often the two of you hung out together outside of work.

“So—charity gala next week. You got a date yet?” he asked, forking pasta into his mouth.

“No—”

“Easy. You go with me,” said Rome.

A frown crossed your face. “You could at least ask.”

“Why should I, when I know you’re going to say yes?”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, love you, too, schnookums,” he teased. “Eat your fuckin’ pasta before it gets cold. One noodle strand here costs, like, a hundred bucks.”

“You need to tell dad to back the fuck off,” Roman announced as he stomped into Kendall’s office, startling his older brother. “You know he rehired Frank to babysit me? I don’t need a babysitter, okay? Especially one I don’t get to fuck. I already have Y/N for that.”

Flabbergasted at the sudden barrage of information, Kendall pushed back from his desk. “Really? Frank is back?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re CEO. Can dad even do that?”

“I don’t… it’s, uh, it’s a question.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, have a talk with him and tell him to butt out because we are running the show now. Go back to bed and, I don’t know, fuckin’ eat some soup. Get some rest. Old man shit.”

The older of the two stood up, holding his hands out in a placating manner. “Hey, relax, alright? The, uh, you know… the dinosaur is having one last roar at the meteor before it wipes him out. But look—you’re doing a great job.”

Roman dipped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his brother’s forehead. “Thank you. Thanks, man, really. Urgh—it’s actually so fuckin’ good to hear. It’s a big job.”

“I know.”

“Well, do you want some help? We can tag-team it on Dad’s speech at Sad Sack Wasp Trap.”

There was a pause. “Uhm, yeah, I guess. I mean, it is a CEO thing, so, like, I have a whole thing prepared… with jokes and stuff—”

“You’re doing jokes?” Roman snickered.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m funny.”

Giggling, Roman sarcastically bit out, “Yup! Of course you are, big bro. I’m sure you’re gonna kill it out there. Who you taking?”

Kendall’s face twisted with discomfort. “Uh, no one… Rava’s busy.”

“Doesn’t wanna go with you. Got it.”

Kendall didn’t have the heart to glare at Roman. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll roll solo.”

“How’s that gonna look? CEO can’t even get an ugly sister to go to the ball? You’ll be laughed at.”

There was a pause before Kendall offered, “You know who I’d like to take? Anna Newman—blonde chick from ATN.”

Roman took a second to think about who that was before saying, “Oh, shit, yeah. No, yeah, I’d fuck that in a minute. Take her!”

“It’s not cool. I’m her boss.”

“Oh, come on. What a pathetic beta-cuck!”

“Jesus, Roman, you’re a walking fucking lawsuit.”

“No—I’m just honest. I’m like, ‘Hey, you have a nice face, I wanna fuck your face, can I cum on your face?’ Which is exactly why my face is drowning in pussy and you don’t even fuck your wife.” After a second, Roman realized he probably stepped a bit too far. “Eesh, yikes. Too far. Sorry. Them’s the facts, though.”

Huffing out a sigh, Kendall asked, “Okay, then, who are you taking if you’re always drowning in pussy?”

“Well, I’m taking Y/N, even though I’m technically her boss.”

Shaking his head, Kendall sighed. “You’re taking Y/N? Are you guys finally dating or something, then?”

“Dating? Fuck, no.” Roman blew out a breath. “Hold on—what do you mean finally?”

Kendall’s lips slanted to the side. “I don’t know. We always just thought you two… you know…”

The memory of you accidentally walking in on him jerking off flashed across his mind. Roman clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Nothing there. Y/N and I are… pals who want to fuck each other but never have, never will. Because we love each other too much.”

Because he was scared of you becoming something he could truly lose.

“You wanna fuck Y/N?” Kendall’s brows inched closer to his hairline with the question.

Roman pursed his lips. “I didn’t say that. What? Fuck you.”

“You just—”

Already, Roman was on his feet, swinging out of Kendall’s office with an elongated bye!

Camera lights, flashing everywhere. Bright and blinding, leaving faint memories of colors in their wake dancing over your irises. Roman’s hand was curled over your waist as the two of you smiled wide for the paparazzi. You had coordinated your outfits—him in a regular black tux that you went out of your way to call boring, and you in a silken black dress with a plunging neckline that he went out of his way to call slutty. The two of you laughed about it regardless.

You were well aware of the headlines you’d make. Childhood Friends Reunited! Logan Roy’s Goddaughter With Youngest Roy Son: Star-Crossed Lovers.

It happened nearly every time you were seen out in public with Roman. And now that this was a large charity event, you only expected the headlines to double in number and grow more ludicrous in nature. Especially when Roman was not one to hold back, always cracking crude jokes.

Once the two of you made your way into the event hall, away from the snapping cameras, Rome leaned close to your ear to whisper, “Can I just say, you look fan-fucking-tabulous right now. Whew, I could just bend you over and—”

“God, Ro, have some decorum,” you replied lightly. “And don’t promise me things you won’t hold up to.”

He smiled, his lips faintly brushing the golden earrings you were wearing, before pulling away.

“I gotta go talk to Dad,” he whispered, patting your hip as he slid away from you. You gave him a nod and a smile before making your way to your designated table, brushing past a frantic Connor who was murmuring under his breath about how the butter was fucked.

And as you took your seat, a handsome waiter with pretty eyes and dark curls came to your table, pouring you a drink with a smile.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

“No problem,” he replied. With a charming twinkle in his eye, the waiter asked, “So, did your date leave you here all alone or did you come here by yourself?”

“He’s off doing… business. As he often does. He’s a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” the waiter echoed. It didn’t go past your notice when his brown irises darted down to glance at your form, the slopes of your curves accentuated just perfectly by the dark dress.

It was only then that Roman came skipping back, head cocked and brows raised at the unfamiliar face.

“Hi,” he greeted, placing a firm hand on your back.

When the waiter, looking awfully embarrassed, began to scuttle away, Roman only held his hand out to stop him, tutting as if he were scolding a petulant child. “Mmh. Fill my glass for me.”

It was a power play—an obvious one. You glared at Roman, but watched silently as the waiter you didn’t even know the name of poured your date some rich wine.

“Thaaank you,” he quipped, drawing out the first word obnoxiously long.

Just as the waiter turned to walk away, Roman stopped him once again. “Ah, ah, ah. You stick around, bud.” At your dismayed countenance, he quirked a brow. “What? Was I interrupting something? If you like my date so much, why don’t you just ask for her fuckin’ number?”

You blew out a sigh. “Rome—”

“No, I mean, you clearly want to, right?” Roman placed a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, you wanna give this guy your number?”

Almost out of spite, you nodded your head. “Yeah, I’d love to give him my number.”

You locked eyes with Roman, watching the way his expression seemed to shift and harden. He was enjoying every bit of this.

Finally, he tore his gaze away from you, looking back at the waiter. “Why don’t you ask for her number then?”

There was a long pause. Hesitant, the waiter asked, “Can I get your number?”

A wheeze of a laugh escaped Roman’s lungs when you asked for a pen, quick to jot down your number on a tissue.

“That’s actually her number. Wowie. Y/N’s getting lucky tonight, huh?” You couldn’t quite tell if the lilting tone in Roman’s voice was mirth or jealousy. Maybe both.

“Just don’t blow your nose with this, alright?” you told the waiter with a sweet smile, handing it over to him.

When the waiter turned to leave, Roman called out after him, “Fetch another bottle for us, will you?”

Once he was finally gone, Roman sat down in the velvet seat next to you, grinning like a maniac.

“I’d slap you if we weren’t at a charity event, Ro.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me like that. You’ll get my dick hard.”

“You were being rude.”

“I’m sorry, and who was the one flirting with other people when you already have a date for the night?”

You sent him a sharp, heated look. “You’re my friend, Roman. What does it matter to you if I flirt with someone else?”

The man beside you pretended to give it a long, hard think. “You know when a dog gets really attached to a chew toy? And another dog comes and tries to take it?”

“Oh, you did not just compare me to a chew toy, Ro, I’ll fucking—”

Before you could finish your sentence, you were abruptly cut off when music started playing on stage, and performers in bright orange fabrics began carrying out an intricate dance. You wrapped your hand around Roman’s tie, yanking him close and snarling into his ear, “We’re continuing this conversation later.”

You let him go just as quickly as you grabbed him, leaving Roman disoriented, giddy, and mildly aroused.

Not long after the performance, Logan came hobbling up for his speech. He congratulated Shiv and Tom for their engagements, and drawled on about his pride for his children. Roman seemed to fidget uncomfortably at his words. And for the last announcement, Logan proclaimed that he was officially back in Waystar.

You and Rome glanced at each other rather incredulously.

By the time the party was coming to a close, Kendall was being blown off by his blonde date—Anna something—and Roman had come to console his brother on his loss.

“This is our charity. How much is a plate? You gotta get a blowjob at the very least,” he scoffed. “Right, Y/N?”

With a scowl, you rolled your eyes. “She doesn’t owe you jackshit. And I’m not giving you a blowjob, you asshole. Not after that stunt you pulled back there.”

“Oh, so you would’ve given me a blowjob if I didn’t nudge that waiter’s cock right into your vagina?”

Pulling a sour face, you crossed your arms over your chest. “God, Roman, you’re disgusting.”

It seemed both of you were too caught up in your argument that neither of you noticed when Kendall slipped away, too glum to try to break you two apart.

On the ride back home, Roman had suggestively broached the idea of coming up into your penthouse with you, but you were quick to shut him down. He’d come over to your place a million times before but… tonight felt different. You didn’t think it was right to let him in tonight.

“Good night, Romeo,” you told him, kissing his cheek lightly. “I’m still mad at you, by the way.”

“Good. I like you mad.” The brown of his eyes sparkled with his admission. You had half a mind to carve them out with a hot spoon. The other half yearned to kiss them.

You did neither.

You shook your head before slipping out of the car, watching as the driver pulled away from the curb and disappeared behind a row of tall buildings.

Logan always had you over for Thanksgiving. Your parents often traveled abroad for the holidays and you were far too busy to join them on their expeditions that usually lasted no fewer than two weeks. And thus, you always spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with the Roys ever since childhood.

The holidays in your past were filled with fond memories from when you and Roman were small children playing out in the snow until your limbs began to freeze, stuffing dark charcoal down Kendall’s stockings, and exchanging silly, obnoxious gifts that had no real practical use to either of you. Of course, the laughter and the snow waned away after the years, turning more into promiscuous jokes and warming up by the fireplace together as the time drew on by. Nevertheless, the two of you were always together for the holidays.

Dinner was a large and lavish feast, consisting platters of fresh bread and butter, creamy mashed potatoes, juicy turkey meat, and so much more. Roman was stealing just about everything from your plate despite all the food laid out right in front of him.

Once the meals were polished off, Logan had taken to showing off the war medals he had bought (not earned), but it was quick to dissolve into a fight with his estranged brother, Ewan, that brought back memories you’d really rather not think about anymore. It quickly ended with Ewan cursing the family out and storming out of the room and into the elevator to take his leave.

“This whole family is a nest of vipers,” he had said to his grandson, Greg. “They’ll wrap themselves around you and suffocate you.”

Though you doubted Ewan even knew who you were, his words resounded with you more than you were comfortable to admit. This family was poison—you knew it well by now.

To ease the tension, Marcia herded everyone back into the dining room for dessert. It was a creamy pumpkin pie, with deliciously buttery crust and airy whipped cream sitting right on top of the thick filling. Roman had swiped off most of the whipped cream from your pie with his finger, licking it away before you even had a chance to protest.

“Fuck you,” you gruffed under your breath, lightly kicking at his foot beside you.

“On Thanksgiving? For shame,” he teased, forking at his own pie with an impish grin.

“Can we do what my family does on Thanksgiving?” Tom asked everybody, smiling nervously.

After shoveling a piece of dessert into his mouth, Roman guffawed, “What? Fuck the turkey?”

Shiv laughed over her glass of wine.

“Go to other people’s dinners,” Logan dryly remarked.

More prickly laughter.

“No, no,” said Tom, fidgeting with the collar of his dark turtleneck. “We go around the table and we each say what we’re thankful for.”

From beside you, Roman let out a loud retching noise. “Blegh.” This time, you couldn’t hold in your laughter, hiding your embarrassed smile behind a hand.

“I’ll go first!” chimed Marcia. “I’m thankful to have the family all together.”

“Nice!” Tom excitedly agreed, happy that his proposal wasn’t being completely disregarded.

Surprising you, Roman was the next to go. “I’m thankful that, uh, Y/N used to sneak quarters under my pillows whenever I lost a tooth as a kid. I am… four dollars richer because of that. Oh, and that I wasn’t born a Siamese twin.”

You shot him a soft smile just as Shiv said, “Yeah, I’m also thankful for that—because being attached to you would be an absolute nightmare. But, mmh, I’m also thankful for the food.”

“Yeah, yes. Good food,” Kendall agreed.

There was a soft frown to Shiv’s features. “You can’t just piggy-back off of my thanks. Have your own.”

Before Kendall could even formulate a response, Greg cut in to say, “I’m thankful that Logan’s feeling better.”

Roman lolled his head to meet your eyes as he mouthed, suck up!

“I think we’re all thankful for that. It—it goes without saying,” Tom said in a haughty manner. “I’m thankful that I’m going to be marrying into one of the most vital and interesting and… kind and loving families in the world.”

“Are you not going to marrying Shiv anymore?” asked Roman, feigning innocence. Laughter scattered around the table as Shiv flipped off her twin brother.

Clearing his throat, Connor began speaking, “I have a little announcement. Uhm… Willa and I are pleased to announce that I’ve asked her and she’s agreed that we are to… take the next steps.”

Brows raising, Logan asked, “What? You—you’re not getting, uh…?” Married was what was left hanging in the air.

“No, we’re, uh… going steady.”

Roman began giggling under his breath. “Jesus Christ. You guys are going steady? What are you, nine?” At his eldest brother’s slightly crestfallen expression, Roman shook his head. “Happy for you, man.”

Everybody else chimed in their thanks, before you were finally the last one left. With the entire family’s eyes set on you, you folded your hands over your lap and offered Logan a timid smile. “I’m just grateful to always be welcome here. My parents were never around so… it was nice to still have people I could call family. And I’m also grateful that I have the honor of being Roman’s only friend.”

“Hey—!”

Marcia abruptly clapped her hands, sensing that the two of you would’ve spiraled down into a childish argument. “Alright, everyone! Shall we play a game? Let’s gather the kids.”

As if you were cattle, she rounded up everybody into the living room, looping her arm with her husband’s, which Logan barely even was.

The game was one of memory. A cold can of condensed milk was passed around the group as they chimed in what they’d bought from the market, along with what everyone else before them had bought.

Once the can got to you, you smiled as you repeated, “I went to the market and bought… a shark tooth, a pony, a big fat hen, and this.”

You passed the can off to Rome, his hand brushing yours. “Uh, I went to the market and bought a crack pipe—”

A litany of protests burst out in the room. Rava covered her daughter’s ears and Kendall sighed out, “Roman!”

“Alright, I went to the market and bought a gimp suit—”

“Roman.”

“Oh, my God. Fine—I bought a, uh, potato, a shark tooth, a pony, a big fat hen, and this.”

Finally, Roman passed the spotlight onto his father, who seemed like he hadn’t really been paying attention to the game.

“What’s it gonna be, Dad? A hot dog? China? Immortality? Souls of the innocent?” Roman asked, draping an arm over your shoulders.

There was a long pause. Longer than what was deemed normal. Logan glanced around blankly.

Marcia gently reminded him, “I went to the market…”

“Yeah, okay. I went to the market, and I bought… local TV.”

Tilting her head, little Sophie asked incredulously, “Can he buy that?”

“Yeah,” snorted Rome. “Dad can buy whatever he wants. So? Local TV and…?”

“Huh?”

“Clock’s tickin’. Time’s running out. Local TV, and what did I say?” Rome drummed his fingers along your arm—a nervous habit. When Logan took far too long to answer, you pursed your lips, displeased. Of course he hadn’t been listening to Roman. Of fucking course.

Finally, Shiv cupped a hand over her mouth to whisper, “A potato.”

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Roman bit out, suddenly taking the game far more seriously than he should’ve. “No hints. Come on, Dad. You got this.”

Did he?

You watched curiously as Logan glanced down at the can, as if only just realizing what he was holding.

“We can skip a turn,” you said, apprehensive. “It’s okay, it’s no big deal.”

Nodding, Tom said, “Marcia, you can go.”

The wife vehemently shook her head in a defensive manner. “No, he—”

Suddenly, Iverson stood up from his seat on the couch, trying to take the can away from Logan. “You lost, Grandpa,” he said. “You lose.”

The words seemed to anger Logan, and his grip tightened around the can, refusing to let the young boy grab it.

“You lose,” repeated Iverson.

Infuriated, the can came crashing across Iverson’s face with a sickening thud, and the young boy’s head went snapping sideways with the impact. You were on your feet immediately, too stunned to say anything as shocked yells and curses flooded into the room. Repressed memories of an equally young Roman on the ground, being kicked around bloody by Logan’s expensive foot flashed across your mind. On instinct, you pressed yourself closer to Roman, fingers curling around his arm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Kendall yelled, getting in between his father and his son.

“I hardly touched him, it was just shock!” barked the older man. “Relax, son! Relax!”

“Take your hands off him! Get the fuck away!”

Both Rava and Kendall led a crying Iverson away into another room to inspect how badly he was hurt.

Silent, you slipped out as well, letting go of Roman to turn down the hall. You were breathing rather erratically, and had to press a palm to your chest to try and get your racing heart to quell its frantic pace.

When Roman called out your name, quiet and concerned, you could feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t realized that he followed you.

“Sorry, I just—I’m sorry. I got overwhelmed,” you said, wrapping your arms around your stomach. You suddenly felt like a child all over again.

There was a lump in Roman’s throat as he watched you slump against the wall. He twisted his face in what he hoped was a reassuring expression. “No, yeah, it’s uh… a fuckin’ mess in there right now. I don’t blame you.”

“It just… reminded me of some bad memories. Of you. And your dad.”

The two of you locked gazes for a long while, both unsure of what else to say. Roman shifted his weight from foot to foot, scuffing the heel of his shoe against the pricey beige carpet.

“Fuck,” was what he finally came up with. “Sorry. C’mere.”

He held one arm open, and you leaned forward to just sink into him, loosely lacing your hands together around him, your forehead resting upon his shoulder. Neither of you really needed to say anything else—there was a silent understanding stretched thinly between you. You were there to witness the worst parts of him, and he was there to pick up the pieces of you that broke while watching.

“Hey, fuck-face,” greeted Roman as he swung into your office, looking a bit more weary than usual. “I have an offer to make you.”

“That can’t mean anything good, knowing you,” you responded, raising an eyebrow. The click-clacking of your keyboard halted to listen to him, encouraging him to continue.

Fiddling with his tie’s knot at the base of his neck, he pulled a grimace. “It’s good, actually. Great. I don’t know. Dad wants us to do family therapy together—publicize the whole thing to make it look like our family business is still… a family business.”

“Oh,” you said, still miffed. “That’s… manipulative. Family therapy? Have you, uhm, met your family?”

Roman leaned his weight onto your desk, staring at you expectedly. “Come with me. It’ll be fun. Sand, scorpions, and drama. Imagine it like a weekend getaway.”

The thought of sticking yourself right between a family feud didn’t sound at all appealing. “I don’t know, Ro…” You paused to pinch between your furrowed brows. “With everything that’s happened—what with Logan firing Kendall and what happened with Iverson last time…”

“You don’t have to go to the fuckin’ therapy itself. Just come down to New Mexico.” Roman reassured. With a sigh, he tacked on, “Dad wants you there. It’s good for the image. You’re his goddaughter, remember?”

“How could I forget?” you dryly replied. “Fine. But I’m only going for you, not him.”

A smile etched over his features. “Aw, you love me. You fuckin’ sap.”

“Yeah, fuck off, Romeo.”

You’d fallen asleep in the car. And, as per typical Roman fashion, he startled you awake by repeatedly flicking at your cheek until you swatted his fingers away.

“We’re here,” he said in a sing-song voice. “New Mexico, baby.”

“Ugh, stop being so loud,” you replied, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

The two of you made your way onto Connor’s ranch. It was large and spacious, undoubtedly lavish while still keeping its old history intact—Connor was especially proud to point out the church on his property dating back all the way to the 1800s. Once inside, you greeted Shiv and Willa with a hug, Marcia with cheek kisses, and Tom with a steady handshake. Logan was last, who you awkwardly embraced, patting him on the back twice before pulling away.

“It’s good to see you here, Y/N. Thank you for coming,” he said.

You knew he only wanted you here for the image. Did he even really care about you?

“It’s good to be here,” you replied with a faux warm smile.

“You’ll be here for the photos tomorrow, yes?”

Roman watched as your smile faltered ever so slightly. “Yeah—yes, of course. I’ll be here.”

“That’s a good girl,” said Logan, taking another sip of his champagne. It seemed like every time you were around Logan, you were reduced back to a little child, nothing but an accessory to be dragged along and made the family look nice.

There was a frown marring Roman’s features as he led you away from his father, to the other end of the room where his sister sat. “This is like a—like the first stages of an orgy. Kind of exciting but also super awkward.”

“And how many orgies have you been to?” you asked with a laugh, bumping your hip against his, knowing full and well that the answer was none.

“I’ll invite you next time.”

The atmosphere between Roman and Shiv was statically tense. They bickered for a few minutes about how Roman had left Shiv in the dark about the vote of no confidence. Your eyes darted back and forth between their argument until it finally ended with Shiv punching him in the arm.

“Ow,” Roman moaned, clutching his bicep. “Fuck you.”

Finally, the two of them begrudgingly smiled at each other.

“I bet Dad’s gonna try winning at therapy,” said Shiv.

“Well, he hasn’t done therapy with me yet. I’m an expert,” Roman quipped.

Both you and Shiv glanced incredulously at each other. “Really?”

“Mhm. This—” Roman pointed at himself, “—is what it looks like when you resolve all your issues.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiv skeptically said.

With a smile, you teased, “I don’t think someone who’s resolved all their issues would use humor as a deflecting mechanism.”

“Ugh. Shut up. You’re just jealous I’m funny,” Roman fired back. “Don’t even deny it. I see you giggling and hoo-ha-ing at my jokes all the fuckin’ time.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Shiv said, “You know, my guy says that if Dad had had therapy, I wouldn’t need so much.”

You scoffed. “My guy says I have two father figures who didn’t really father me and left lasting impressions—which is just a nice way of saying they’ve fucked me up bad.”

“My guy’s surprised I got through it at all,” Roman chimed in.

“I don’t think you got through it all,” snorted Shiv.

The two of them burst into another round of mocking imitations.

Finally, Roman said, “I will have you both know that I’m very well-adjusted. You guys are just good at hiding it.” Then, as if to prove his own point wrong, he turned to tap Connor on the shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know that I think I’m going to reveal to him that you sexually abused me when I was a child.”

“Excuse me?” said Connor, baffled.

“Yeah, you just would not stop.”

You scowled. “God, Ro, that’s not funny.”

“You are one sick puppy,” Connor agreed.

“You’re the one who kept trying to fuck me!” said Roman through a fit of giggles.

“Why would you say that? Stop saying that! You don’t really think that, do you?”

“Mmh, no. I’m fuckin’ with you. Like the way you fucked me as a baby.”

Connor frowned. “What is wrong with you? You’re exasperating.”

Both you and Shiv shook your heads.

“Good luck with family therapy,” you told her. “Looks like it’ll be interesting.”

“Thanks,” she grumbled. “Really gonna need it. Ten bucks on someone running out before it’s finished.”

With a humored hum, you nodded. Though none of the siblings really wanted this to happen (well, Connor was up for debate), you doubted any of them would actually flake. “You’re on.”

When the therapist finally arrived, he went around the room, shaking everybody’s hand. Logan went up to the center of the room to acknowledge everybody present. “Right. Family. Mmh—we’re all gathered here in this beautiful home because there are things to address… and I believe we should address them. I think I explained all around that we’ll also have a small celebration of our coming together with photographs, tomorrow. Nothing fancy. Just a few simple, candid shots. Anyway, without further ado, Alon Parfit.”

The therapist stepped up next and gave his little speech about the courage it takes to go to therapy. Rome rolled his eyes to the side. It’s not like any of you were really given the choice.

“Thanks. This family is broken, and that has consequences,” said Connor. “A missed phone call today, and a couple dozen kids lose their jobs in China. Butterfly wings, but bigger. Huge wings—like a pterodactyl. Or the Smithsonian. So… let’s fix our wings.”

Both you and Roman glanced at each other, trying your best to smother down your amusement.

“Barely comprehensible,” retorted Roman, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

You strode out of your bathroom in your pajamas, having just brushed your teeth and done your nightly routine before bed. It didn’t at all surprise you that Roman hadn’t moved from his spot, eagle-spread over the mattress, playing a little game on his phone.

“Move over,” you said, shoving at his legs to climb on beside him. “You have your own room, you know. Why are you here?”

Ignoring you, Roman asked, “Why the fuck is it so cold in here? We’re in the goddamn desert. My nipples are so fucking hard—feels like they’re going to fall off. Touch them!”

“Ew, Ro, I don’t want to touch your nipples—”

Roman took your hand anyway, pressing it against his chest.

“Wow. Hard nipples,” you dryly remarked, fixing him with an unimpressed stare. “Thanks for showing me. Good night.”

As you began clambering beneath the comforter, Roman kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned a few top buttons of his shirt. Despite your half-hearted protests, he slid into the space beside you.

“Just like when we were kids,” you whispered, staring up at the ceiling with a faint smile. “I swear we slept in each other’s rooms more often than in our own.”

“You talked in your sleep,” Roman snickered.

“Yeah? You snored way too loud.” You began mimicking the way he snored in between giddy laughter. “Honk shoo. Hoooonk shoo—”

Prodding a finger into your side, Roman retaliated, “You moved around too much.”

“You liked to be the small spoon.”

“You would kiss your stuffed animals before going to bed.”

This time, you let out a loud laugh. “God, I forgot about that. I miss them. I missed this.” Your hand found his beneath the blanket, lacing your fingers together.

“Don’t draw anything on my face while I’m asleep,” he warned, turning on his side to face you.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” you replied, eyes already closing. “G’night, Ro.”

“Nighty-night, bitch.”

He was nervous. You could see it in his eyes. The therapist had already called for the siblings and Logan to gather in the church for their session, but Roman lingered behind, scuffing his shoe against the sand.

“Behave yourself, okay?” you told him, trying your best to give him a reassuring smile whilst buttoning up the top button of his dark blue shirt that was still hanging open. “Do it for Con and Shiv. I know this must be tough on all of you.”

Grateful for your tender comfort, Roman seemed a bit less nervous to head inside with the rest of his family. “Yes, mommy,” he teasingly bit out.

With a roll of your eyes, you shoved him away with a snort of indignant laughter, and watched as he slunk off to follow after his sister. Though Marcia and Willa and Tom offered for you to sit with them while waiting, you politely declined, needing some time alone in your room with your thoughts and a good book.

Not even half an hour later, Roman slipped through the doors of your bedroom, appearing slightly trodden on, scratching the back off his head in an anxious fashion.

“Ro?” you asked, sliding a crumpled receipt between the pages as a temporary bookmark, turning your full attention on him. “How’d it go?”

He gave you a smile—a weary one, full of secrets and doubt. “It was bullshit,” he whispered. For a moment, you wondered if tears were pricking his eyes, but that could’ve just been a trick of the broiling New Mexican sunlight.

“You wanna talk about it?” You shifted on the bed to pat the spot beside you. With a small sigh, Roman crawled beside you, tugging his knees up to his chest, as if he was a child all over again.

“No. Fuck. Maybe later.”

“Okay, Rome. Are you okay?”

The man beside you rested his cheek against his leg. “Yeah, just… I don’t know. I fuckin’... I just clammed up.”

Without another word, you pulled him into a side hug, your nose pressing against the side of his head affectionately.

“That’s okay,” you whispered, shutting your eyes as you leaned into him. “It’s okay to clam up sometimes.”

A hum, followed by a sigh. “Shiv is leaving. She has a meeting.”

“Lucky her. Will she be back?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was so quiet. Your heart ached for him. “Therapist wants us to reconvene this afternoon. If it’s just Connor and I with Dad… I don’t know. Doesn’t sound all that fun anymore.”

“Was it even fun in the first place?”

He gave you a half-hearted shrug.

You rubbed a comforting hand along his back. “We can always just bail.”

Pulling a grimace, Roman replied, “Dad would kill me.”

“Shiv bailed?”

Snorting, Roman shook his head. “Shiv doesn’t give a shit. Dad loves her anyway. Whatever fucked up version of love that is.”

A hesitant pause. “Well… if you’re staying, I’m staying.”

Your friend smiled loosely. “Don’t you ever… get sick of me?”

“Yeah, all the time, Ro,” you replied with no hesitation. “But I love you anyway. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

The two of you laughed quietly, before you slipped your hands away from him, heading over to your bag to fish out a swimming suit.

“C’mon—I saw a pool out in the back. How do you feel about going for a swim?”

The two of you were sitting side by side by the pool’s edge, legs dangling in the lukewarm water. He would flick water at your face every once in a while, taking great pleasure in the way your nose would wrinkle and how you’d lazily tell him to knock it off.

Just as you were about to sink into the pool, the therapist came up to the water, shedding his fluffy white robe onto a chair.

“You coming in for a swim?” you asked with a sweet smile. “The water’s nice.”

“Mmh, yeah, don’t be afraid of what’s down there. Pretend it’s our subconscious and just go for it,” Roman chimed in.

Parfit hummed, stepping closer to the edge. “Yeah, I know how to dive.”

“You gonna jump?” you said with a laugh, not really being serious.

“You want me to jump?” asked Alon.

Both you and Rome grinned at each other. “Jump, jump, jump!” the two of you chanted.

“Jump, you fuckin’ pussy!” exclaimed Roman, though he was quick to shut his mouth when his therapist flung himself into the pool face-first.

“Oh, my God,” you said, flinching back as a wave of water drenched the both of you. It was all a blur, really. One moment you saw the pool water darkening with blood, and the next you were jumping in to help Parfit out. Roman was yelling for help as you dragged him up over the edge, eyes widening.

He was conscious, which was a good thing, but when he parted his lips to croak out a question, you noticed with horror how the entire front row of his teeth had been knocked out. Unsure of what else to do, you wrapped a towel around him and told him to put pressure on the wounds.

When Connor and a few cleaners came asking what had happened, Roman told them, “He just dived in and hit the bottom!”

“Did you hit your head?” asked Willa in concern.

The therapist said something, but it was muffled behind the towel.

“He hit his teeth?” said Connor.

“Well, his teeth are in his head—kind of a central feature there,” said Rome, wincing as he saw all the blood pouring out of Parfit’s mouth. “I didn’t think he’d jump in head-first!”

“Yeah, well, just don’t let him go to sleep,” you said.

Parfit’s eyebrows pulled together. “I don’t wanna go to fuckin’ sleep!”

As they checked out his mouth, Willa told him that he should go to the hospital, despite Roman’s half-hearted protests that he looked okay. Eventually, it was agreed upon that Connor and Willa would take him.

“Fuckin’ great!” you heard Logan grumble. “And I was about to take advice from a clown who dives head-first into the shallow end of a pool! And now everybody’s fucking off!”

Marcia rubbed a consoling hand on her husband’s shoulder. “No, no, Roman and Y/N are still here. They’re here for the photos. Right?”

Subconsciously, you stepped closer to Roman just as Logan swung his gaze onto the both of you. The last ones standing.

“Sure,” Rome reluctantly said with a shrug. “I give good cheekbone. You?” He turned to look at you with pleading eyes.

You pursed your lips. “Yeah, uhm, yes. I just gotta go wash the therapist’s blood off of me.” With a half-hearted grin, you shook your head. “That’s a sentence I never expected to say.”

With that, you scuttled off upstairs, Roman following after you, the both of you leaving a trail of pool water in your wake.

The photoshoot went as well as it could’ve gone, considering both you and Roman were treading on thin ice around his father. You stood idly by the cameraman as Roman and Logan slowly treaded through the yellowed grass, discussing business matters beneath their breath. It wasn’t long before you were called forward, dressed in a smart white blouse and black slacks, to stand beside Logan while it was Roman’s turn to be benched.

The fucked up godfather-goddaughter duo.

“So, uh, how has New Mexico been treating you, Uncle Logan?” you asked as politely as you could, walking alongside him.

The older man shot you a sidelong glance. “Hot. Dry. Sandy. What else?”

“Ah, I, uhm—”

“Listen here, Y/N.” He stopped striding, and so did you. “You’re a good, dependable woman, with some wits about you. My son seems to be just the opposite.”

You frowned at his words, not overly fond of the way he always belittled your closest friend, his own son.

“I need you to guide him. Keep his head on his shoulders. I’ve just told him to call Japan, as COO, and handle a rocket launch. He’s in a big role now—we can’t afford him to be… easily swayed.”

We? you thought.

“What are you asking me, Uncle?”

Logan resumed walking, taking your arm to gently tug you along for the photographer to snap more shots. There was a tight feeling in your chest.

“I’m asking you to keep him by my side. Deter him from any of my enemies, which have already corrupted his brother and sister. You’ve always been a loyal member of our company, and I see you as a daughter, more than anything. With you, Romulus will be a much more formidable force.”

You swallowed hard. Why did his words feel so hollow? “I…”

“Smile for the camera,” he said.

You nodded, smiling stiffly.

Finally, the photographer asked for Logan to step away so he could get a couple shots of you and Rome.

“So…?” your friend asked, immediately winding an arm around your waist. “Spill. What did pops say to you? You looked like you were about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up,” you told him. “I’ll tell you later.”

The cameraman waved his arm to catch both of your attentions. “Can you guys move closer?”

Obnoxiously, Roman tugged you towards him so any remaining space between the two of you was effectively gone. He smushed his cheek to yours with a wide beam, your heads bumping against one another. “This close enough for you?” At the photographer’s thumbs up, Roman retorted under his breath, “This guy probably has a kink for nonconsensual filming during sex. Bet he has an entire USB filled with this shit in his mom’s basement or something.”

You couldn’t help it—you bursted out laughing, clutching onto Roman’s forearms as you grinned so large it was a wonder your face didn’t split into two. Whether you were laughing at Roman’s crude predictions, or the ludicrous nature of the way your faces were pressed up against one another, you didn’t quite know.

The photographer snapped a couple dozen photos of you genuinely laughing with Roman grinning like a fool before finally saying he had gotten plenty of pictures. More than enough to appease the press, that was for sure.

Kendall was in New Mexico, much to both your and Rome’s surprise. And, to worsen it all, he was high.

“Uh, can you drop me a pin so I know you’re okay?” Roman asked over the phone to his giggling brother, most likely coked up and inhaling several lungfuls of secondhand smoke. From your seat beside him, you could hear Kendall’s faint voice murmur something unintelligible. Growing frustrated, Roman spoke again, “Just drop me the fucking pin. I’m not going to come get you.”

He gave you a glance. You knew what he was asking almost instantly. The two of you were going to go get him.

“Just do it, Kendall. Do it now. Are you doing it?”

Another pause. Then a notification popped up on Roman’s phone.

“Alright, Y/N and I are coming to get you, man. Just, uh… sit tight, okay?” With that, Roman hung up.

His father, who had overheard the entire conversation, furrowed his wispy white brows. “Are you doing the call with Japan?”

Of course, he had just overheard that his son was out there, possibly on the brink of an overdose, and he was worried about a fucking business call. You squared your jaw and turned away from the both of them, shrugging on a coat to get ready to leave in search of Kendall. Though the two of you had a strained relationship at best, he was still more of a brother to you than anything.

“Uh, yeah… yes, I will,” Roman finally said. “But, um, I’m gonna go get Kendall. He’s here and he’s not great.”

A tense silence. For a moment, you wondered if Logan would tell his youngest son to stay and leave his older brother to fend for himself. His eyes darted to you for a brief moment as you grabbed a set of car keys out of the dozens laid out.

Kendall dying of an overdose would do Logan’s company no good. With a nod, he beckoned for the both of you to leave. Limbs suddenly unfreezing, Rome jolted towards you, ushering you out of the house to one of the cars.

The drive was tense and quiet, occasionally interrupted by Roman nervously drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and asking you an absentminded question. You’d reply with a two-worded sentence, before the two of you lapsed into more worried silence.

The house Roman pulled up to was dingy and dark, looking as if it were somehow sunken into itself. The flimsy metal fences were wilting and rusted. Roman knocked on the door with faded yellow paint thrice.

“Kendall?” he asked. “Kendall! Hey, open up!”

Abruptly, the door rocked open on its squeaky hinges, startling both you and Roman. The stench of piss and weed hit you like a shockwave. You lingered by the doorway, studying the room with narrowed eyes. Kendall was near the door, with a few other men smoking nearby.

“Oh, wow,” said Roman, shifting his weight from his toes to his heels. “Hi. You guys gonna offer me a cup of tea?”

High out of his mind, Kendall took another hit from a bong before slurring out, “Yo, Chang, show them your wolf tattoo, c’mon.”

With a greasy smirk, the man leaned forward and pulled his shirt down to show you a shoddy tattoo that only barely resembled a snarling wolf, howling obnoxiously. “You like my wolf, pretty lady?” He was getting far too close for your taste, so you stepped closer to Roman.

“Very nice,” you dryly said. “Hey, Kenny D, can we go now? It’s, uh, it’s getting late—”

Ignoring you, Kendall began introducing the rest of the men in the ragtag group, “Yo, this is, uh, Chang, Tanner, and Mac.”

“So great to meet you guys,” Roman quickly replied, scratching the back of his head in a fidgety fashion. “Let’s get out of here. C’mon.”

Another hit. More smoke filled the room and you wrinkled your nose with distaste. Kendall drawled out, “You know, I was thinking I probably shouldn’t talk to you, given the, uh, ongoing situation apropos of my legal action against you as a board member, for your failure to fulfill your fiduciary duty and breaching my employment contract. Then I thought about it some more and was like—who the fuck cares?”

Snapping his fingers, Roman pointed at the white powder Kendall was lining up to snort. “What—what is this? What is that? Fuckin’... crank?”

Snorting, Kendall retorted, “We’ve been having a lot of fun, Mom. Seriously, you should try this.”

Heaving out a dry laugh, you spat out, “No, thanks. Roman and I aren’t looking to kill ourselves tonight.”

“I hear that shit makes you crash like an airbus full of eggs,” said Rome, eyeing his brother surreptitiously.

“Not if you stay high,” chimed one of the other druggies.

Kendall snorted. “Tanner makes good points.”

“Tanner is too fucked up on thirty different kinds of drugs to make good points,” you haughtily said. “Kendall, please, let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

The older brother tried to click open his lighter, but it seemed to be out of gas.

“Oh, hey, I can fix that,” said Roman, plucking the little prism out of Kendall’s hands and chucking it across the room with a clang. “Great. Problem solved. Let’s go.”

“Fine, fine,” Kendall begrudgingly said. “Alright, I’m coming. Family therapy n’ all that.”

One of the other men blew out a stream of smoke before saying, “Hey, man, your friends fucking suck.”

“Not my friend,” slurred Kendall. “Brother. And his girlfriend.”

Neither you nor Roman had the heart to correct him.

Kendall clapped the both of you on your shoulders as you swung the creaky door open. “You know what, guys? They’re actually pretty okay. Pretty chill.”

The high group yelled a bunch of farewells as you rushed out of the house, the two brothers in tow. The returning drive was much louder than the journey on the way to get Kendall, because he kept turning on the radio to play music obnoxiously loud, and giggled and laughed and made crude noises as Roman took a work call about the launch in Japan. He so desperately didn’t want to disappoint his father, you felt sorry for him.

By the time the three of you made your way back onto Connor’s ranch, you were dead tired and in dire need of some sleep.

Kendall was still excited and giddy, banging his fists against the windows and flinging the door open to yell, “What up, motherfuckers!” to everybody gathered in the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late. What are we arguing about?”

Shifty eyes darting to both you and Roman leaning against each other by the edge of the room, he barked out, “What the fuck’s wrong with him?”

“I’m off my nuts, folks. Off my fuckin’ nuts!” exclaimed Kendall, making for the fridge to touch everything inside, eventually grabbing an unopened bottle of beer.

Roman cleared his throat. “Uh, Dad, just so you know—everything’s good with the launch. I talked to the guy, and—”

“He doesn’t fucking care, Rome!” interrupted Kendall. “He doesn’t even notice. Dad—give him a high five, or something. C’mon. He’s waiting… with those fuckin’ puppy dog eyes of his. Fuck.”

“Stop it, Kendall,” you said with a frown.

Kendall only parroted your words with a mocking tone, which made Roman bristle beside you.

It seemed that Logan had no interest in putting up with any of his sons’ bullshit, instead placing all his attention on a sour Shiv behind the kitchen island. They argued more, Logan angry at his daughter for leaving their family therapy to go meet with one of his enemies. It was until Kendall made a distasteful joke about Logan being a high-class hooker that Willa abruptly stood up, bidding everyone a goodnight and storming upstairs. You felt bad for her, having half the mind to follow her up. But you stayed by Roman’s side, trying your best to swallow around the lump in your throat as Logan argued with Connor now.

Arguments after arguments. That’s all it was with this family.

Shiv was quick to turn tail and leave when Logan called her a coward, Tom hot on her heels. You buried your weary face within your palms. Just as you pulled your hands away, Logan was storming towards Kendall for cracking another distasteful joke—this time about his father’s abusive uncle.

Your stomach lurched with the possibility of witnessing Logan hit another one of his sons, and Roman let his hands slip away from you as he struggled with whether or not he should help Kendall. But before he could decide, Logan called Ken a fucking nobody and staggered off with Marcia in tow.

Kendall pulled a grimace before taking another swig of his beer. He didn’t seem all too affected by his father’s harsh words.

“Good night, Con,” you quietly said as you slipped past him, going out of your way to ignore Kendall.

“Night, guys,” Roman whispered to his brothers, crestfallen.

The two of you wordlessly made your way upstairs and into Roman’s room, which was closer than yours. You didn’t bother changing—simply crawling beneath the cold bed’s blanket, making space for him to climb in after you. Roman dug his knuckles into his tired eyes.

“I clammed up,” Roman whispered, pressing his nose into the base of your throat as you wound your arms around him. “Again.”

“That’s okay, Roman,” you said, repeating the very same words you had said to him only hours before. “I like clams, you know.”

“Yeah? I’m more of an oyster guy, myself.”

“Mmh. Those are good, too.”

“Mhm.”

Faintly, you felt his lips brush against your neck just before you fell into the gentle clutches of sleep.

You’d honestly expected Roman to ask you to be his plus one for Shiv’s wedding. But, to your surprise, he’d found himself a girlfriend at Tom’s bachelor party—a beautiful blonde woman that had sucked the groom off and made him swallow his own load.

When Roman told you, you really thought he’d been joking at first. Nevertheless, you were happy for him, even if he was just with Tabitha to spite Tom in his own twisted way.

By the time Shiv’s wedding rolled around, you decided to go without a date, more than happy to enjoy the night on your own. You stepped out of the car, thanking the driver with a smile, before heading into the venue, your eyes bright and wide as you took in the intricately decorated space.

You caught sight of Roman with his date by the entrance, his mother on his other side.

“Hello!” she greeted you with her lilting British accent. “Y/N, darling, how’ve you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were a little doll—I remember your pigtails like it was yesterday. How you and Roman tracked mud into the house, covered in twigs and bristles.”

Leaning forward, she pressed kisses to both your cheeks and gave you a loose hug. “Hi, no, yeah—I’m, uh, I’m doing great.”

“Where’s your date, darling? Is he running late?”

For a moment, you let your eyes slide over to Roman, who gave you an apologetic shrug.

“No date today,” you told her, smiling tightly. “Just me.”

“Splendid, splendid,” she said, and began to prattle on about how marriages were a miserable affair anyway.

As politely as you could, you moved away from Caroline to hug her youngest son, your oldest friend.

“You look nice, Ro,” you told him, patting his freshly-shaven cheek twice.

“Me? Look at you!” he replied, whistling obnoxiously. Then, in a ridiculous British accent (in an obvious mockery of his mother), he crooned, “Give us a spin, love.”

You didn’t spin, but you rolled your eyes fondly. The dress you wore today was a deep shade of violet, with a tight bodice that criss-crossed over your chest and flowed loosely down past your hips. Your hair was up and away from your face, which effectively took the option for you to nervously fidget with it off the table.

Finally, you turned your gaze to Roman’s date. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you,” you kindly told her, holding your hand out to shake hers.

To your surprise, she pulled you into a hug instead, smiling widely. “Yes, likewise! God, Roman’s told me all about you.”

“He has?” You arched a brow to him just as he glanced away, scratching the back of his head. “All good things, I hope.”

“Mostly, yeah.”

With a laugh, you shook your head. “Well, I do look forward to talking to you some more—enjoy the party and the company. Bye, Rome—Caroline.”

The first few hours flew by in a breeze. There was a whole commotion with Shiv being upset that Logan was planning on coming, despite her wishes for him to stay well away. Rome had quietly asked you if you thought he was coming because he was worried about the launch. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that Logan could really care less about it, which is why he handed the job over to Roman in the first place.

Then the party came next, filled with mingling socialites and expensive wines and drinks, food that tasted like it cost a hundred dollars a bite. You floated through, speaking to dozens of people who knew your name, but you didn’t know a single one of theirs. It felt lonely, in a way.

Finally, you were able to find Shiv amongst the packed throng, congratulating her on the marriage.

“You’re tethered to Tom now,” you joked, wrinkling your nose at the thought. “You’ll certainly have your hands full with him.”

The both of you grimaced at your wording.

“Listen, Shiv, just know that I’m here for you if you ever need anything, okay?”

With a hum, the redhead took a drawn-out sip of her drink. “You took the photos with dad in New Mexico.”

“Yeah?”

“You with him, then?”

You blinked. “No… I mean, he’s my godfather, sure—”

“Yeah, well he’s my dad, but that seems to mean very little to him.” She regarded you over the rim of the champagne flute. “I can’t get a read on you, Y/N. You’re so obviously not happy with my dad. Why do you keep taking his side?”

Before you could respond, Roman came sidling up to both of you.

“Hey, dipshits! What’re we talking about?” he asked in a sing-song voice.

“Nothing,” you quickly responded. “Where’s Tabitha?”

Waving away your question, Roman responded, “Eh. Off mingling. You know her.”

“Not really, actually—”

It was then that Caroline came up, having just asked two strangers how long they thought Shiv and Tom would last. She’d been asking just about everyone at the wedding that question, making them deeply uncomfortable as they were forced to stammer out a hasty protest that it’d last forever. Or, at the very least—a long time.

“I like your girlfriend, Ro,” she told her son.

“Oh, thank you. I met her at a sex party where she was giving the groom a blowjob.”

You did a double take, not expecting him to be so abrash with his words to his mother, right in front of the bride. To your relief, neither Shiv nor Caroline seemed to take him seriously.

“Funny, Ro. So funny,” you said, trying your best to play off your reaction.

With a nod and a hum, Caroline chimed, “You should marry her.”

This time, it was Roman’s turn to be shocked. “Excuse me?”

For some reason, you felt a sick feeling curl within your stomach. Caroline’s eyes burned into you, but you refused to meet her gaze.

Finally, she turned to her daughter. “Shiv, stop taking everything so seriously. I’m trying to sparkle. When people ask me how long I give it, I say forever. Or—at least, it’ll feel like forever.”

With that, Caroline hurried off, calling after a waiter carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

“She says she’s being impish,” Roman said.

“Well, we know where you get that trait from, then,” you dryly remarked, earning you a flick to the ear, which made you smile and swat Roman’s hands away.

With a tired sigh, Shiv pinched the space between her brows. “She’s being a stone-cold bitch.”

Roman snickered. “Freud is having a field day right now.”

“Fuck off,” Shiv spat, before taking her leave to find her husband.

“How’s socializing been? I saw you nearly fall asleep on a business associate a while ago,” leered Rome, mischief dancing amongst his molten irises.

“Trust me, you’d fall asleep, too. He just kept talking and talking about the future of cybertechnology—I already put up with enough of that from Connor.”

Clearing his throat, Roman patted your shoulder firmly. “Hey, listen—you heard what my mom said, right? That I should propose to Tabs?”

It felt like static started playing in your ears. “What?” you asked, baffled.

“She said I should marry her.”

“Rome… you’ve known her for less than a month.”

“And?”

“She’s—” You stared at him for a moment, incredulous. “Ro, she’s not going to say yes. You guys barely know each other.”

The way Roman’s features contorted into genuine disbelief made you pull your brows together. He scoffed, “Well, just because you said no, doesn’t mean she will.”

Again, you parroted, “What? What are you talking about? When have you ever proposed to me?”

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t remember.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No, Romeo, I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With a sigh, Roman scratched at his head. “We were like, fuckin’ sixteen or something—I asked you if you wanted to get married, and you said no.”

Suddenly, the faint memory of Roman joking about marriage and the white-picket fence life came to the forefront of your mind. The two of you had found an abandoned playground and sat side by side on the creaking, rusted swings. They were clearly meant for children a decade younger than you, but neither of you cared. The night was cold, and Roman’s nose was red, his breath misting with each sigh he took. A wave of nostalgia overtook you.

“Ro, we were kids. And you didn’t actually ask me. You kind of just… told me that we should. You can’t—ugh. I didn’t know you were being serious.”

It ached within your chest when Roman drew himself away from you.

“I wasn’t being serious.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?” you asked, hating the way your voice broke under the weight of your words. “You’re a grown adult, Roman. If you want to propose to Tabitha, you do that.”

With an unnecessary amount of hostility, Roman spat out, “Fine. I will.” But you saw right through him. He was putting up a front because of how hurt he was, just like he always did.

“Okay.”

“Fuck you. When she says yes, you’re not invited to the wedding.”

There was so much you wanted to throw back at him. The sentences lodged in your throat—too many, all at once. With a sharp inhale and the familiar sting of tears in the corner of your eyes and the bridge of your nose, you turned away and stormed back into the party, your dress fluttering in your wake.

She was brushing her teeth, and Roman was lounging on the bed. It was a tender moment of domesticity that was rare for the both of them. But her mind was on what she was going to do when she returned home, and his mind was on you. How you’d looked like he’d slapped you when he told you that you wouldn’t be invited to his wedding. If it was even happening. Which it would.

“You know, you’re fucking great,” Roman called out to Tabitha, face smushed against the mattress.

“Thank you!” she said, smiling around the foamy toothbrush.

“You’re not a head fuck. Or a bitch or a leech.”

The blonde rinsed her mouth. “You say such pretty things.”

“Hm. You never once asked to stay over, or how it works with my dad, or the trust…”

Clearing her throat, Tabitha made her way from the bedroom to sit in front of the vanity table beside the bed. “I’m just pathologically incurious.”

A beat of silence. Roman scrutinized her reflection in the mirror, as she busied herself with rubbing moisturizer into her cheeks. “What if I was prepared to marry you?”

Her hands halted in their ministrations and she locked eyes with him through the mirror. “Hello?” she asked, holding the same incredulous tone you had a few hours ago.

“Hi.”

She laughed as if it was a joke, and Roman shrugged.

“What? Shiv’s getting married. Kendall got married, too—”

The woman nodded emphatically as she pushed away from the table and moved to sit beside him on the bed, “I see. So how about you come down from Mount Olympus and propose to a mere mortal?”

“Yeah, what if?”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment longer.

“No,” she said.

“No?”

Giggling, she shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“Why is this crazy?”

It took another prolonged second for Tabitha to realize that Roman was being genuine. “Because this isn’t a normal relationship, Roman.”

“What? Why?”

Tabitha chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Well… for one thing, we never fuck?”

A flicker of insecurity flashed across his face. “Yeah, we do,” he protested.

“Mmh, no, we don’t.”

“C’mon, Tabs. We do—we’ve just been busy, is all.” Roman slid off the bed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.

Shaking her head, Tabitha replied, “No, you, like, kind of jerked off near me once. We didn’t even make eye contact!”

“Yeah, alright, there’s no need to be disgusting.” Shame coiled hot and heavy within his chest.

“To be honest, Roman, I’ve had way more sexual contact with the groom than I have with you.”

Groaning, Roman pulled at his face. “Ugh, c’mon, I asked you not to talk about that!”

“Look, I’ve slept with a lot of guys, Roman Roy, and if that’s gonna be a problem then you’ve gotta say—!”

“No, it’s not a problem. It’s Tom’s issue, not mine. I just—I don’t… look, do you wanna get married or not?” He finally locked eyes with her.

Tabitha smiled again, though this time it was distant and sympathetic. Tilting her head, she asked, “Babe… do you think this is how to get someone to stay?” Another long silence. Roman swallowed hard, and looked away from her. “Are you sure you’re not projecting on me? That you’re not overcompensating in this relationship for another one?”

You. It was clear she was alluding to you. She wasn’t mad about it, either. She could tell that Roman’s heart was given to another since the moment she met him, even if he didn’t know it just yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roman stiffly said. With that, he stood up. “I’m gonna go. Satellite launch shit. Bye.”

Tabitha watched him practically scramble out of the room, uncharacteristically somber.

Three knocks on your door. They were soft and hesitant, only barely there. You’d only just gotten out of the shower, toweling off your hair, clad only in a loose white tee and your underpants. When you hastily slid on a pair of sweats, you made for the door, pulling it open just a sliver to see who it was.

Roman was on the other side. His hair was disheveled to no return, as if he’d been endlessly carding his fingers through the strands.

“Are you sucking someone off in here, or can I come in?” he asked.

With pursed lips, you stepped aside to give him space to amble through the doorway, and you gently shut it behind you. Roman was a mess, you could see it clear as day.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Why would I be? My sister’s officially getting married tomorrow. Woohoo.” He pumped a limp fist into the air.

“I see right through you, Roman Roy,” you said. The faux confidence in his composure seemed to slip right through the cracks of his fingers with each second.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tentatively spread your arms. Relief flooded his features and he surged forward, embracing you tightly. His nose found your neck as he inhaled your familiar scent in, and his fingers curled within the fabric of your shirt.

“I asked Tabitha. She said no.”

“I know, Ro. Or else you wouldn’t be here.” You held him all the closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up. Just… just hold me.”

And so you held him for what felt like hours, until you drifted off into unconsciousness. Roman stayed awake beside you, watching you, observing all your relaxed features he had already memorized for years by now. By the time the clock on the wall read three in the morning, he gently slipped away from your grasp, and made his way back into his room.

Tabitha was deep asleep, and his side of the bed was left untouched. Roman bit into his lip so hard it began to bleed, before heading into the bathroom. He laid down in the cold bathtub and fell asleep there, as if he were a dog shunned out by his owners.

Shiv was beautiful in her wedding dress. Granted, she was beautiful in her salmon-hued outfit the previous night, but she seemed to glow on this particular day. When you had told her of such sentiments, Shiv merely rolled her eyes and scoffed, before tugging you into a hug.

“I wish I had sisters,” she whispered when she pulled away. “My brothers are so… eugh.”

“I know. Eugh.”

The two of you laughed, and linked arms when the photographer asked for the both of you to smile and look at the camera. Several snaps later, you were ushered off to the side so the families could take pictures with the bride and groom. Finally, when it was time for siblings and their respective partners, it left a dull ache in your chest to see Roman and Tabitha leaning all over each other, as if what Rome had told you yesterday hadn’t actually happened.

“Y/N, get in here,” said Shiv, beckoning for you. “C’mon!”

Hesitant, you scooched into the other end of the group, where Connor and Willa were leaning against one another. You smiled for the camera, and took great relief when you asked to see the picture later on, noting how your smile looked passably genuine. You’d always been good at masking your emotions. It was just a trait you had to adopt, growing up around the Roys.

Once the ceremony took place, the party took off in full-swing. You flitted from group to group, enjoying the amicable atmosphere and all the free food.

It was when you were in an engaging conversation with Stewy about money laundering schemes did Roman finally rush up to you, a phone held up to his ear. Without even letting you say goodbye to Stewy, he was grabbing onto your arm and rudely dragged you away, despite your surprised protests.

“Shh—I’m on the phone, here!” He glared at you for a moment before speaking into the device again, “Sorry, yeah. Lemme get to some place more quiet. Yup, yeah, I got it—it’s streaming. Connecting.”

“Ro, is this about your little satellite launch thing?” you asked, allowing him to shove you into a ridiculously lavish gilded bathroom, squeezing in after you.

With a frown, he replied, “It’s not little. I reorganized this shit and pushed the launch for today as, like, a fuckin’ wedding gift to Shiv, or whatever, but she’s being a stuck-up carbon-neutral bitch and doesn’t even wanna bother watching it. So you’re gonna watch it with me.”

You jumped onto the sink, and he leaned back so that your knee was grazing his side. You peered over his shoulder to look at the screen, which was still frozen on the livestream’s loading page.

“If nothing comes up in the next two minutes, I’m leaving.”

“Just shut up and give it a second—oh, there. Rocket.”

The two of you intently watched the shuttle prepare for takeoff. Plumes of smoke filled almost half the screen. That was normal for a launch right?

Then, before either of you could say a word about it, a large explosion tore through the entire spacecraft, angry shades of orange and ochre filling the screen. That definitely wasn’t normal for a launch. The blast looked so severe that it’d be a miracle if any of the billion-dollar equipment survived at all.

Dead silence stretched thin between the two of you. It was broken when Roman sharply inhaled, turning the power off and shoving the phone into his suit. He turned, brows furrowed, meeting your worried eyes. You were still far too shocked to say anything.

He cleared his throat and began to wash his hands beside you, arm grazing your thigh in his haste. Neither of you said a word. Once he toweled them dry, he patted your knee, checked his reflection, and strode out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

It took you a few seconds to get over your frozen shock and follow after him, meandering through the crowd. You murmured a hasty apology when you accidentally trod on a man’s shoe, calling after Roman, who was intent on disappearing behind everyone.

When you finally found him again, he was downing strong drinks that he had asked Tabitha to go fetch, having just listened to Gerri tell him that he was looking at potential corporate manslaughter.

“Roman…?” you asked, which startled him into sitting up straight on the couch. You fumbled for your words. “I, uh… are you okay?”

“Good. Great. Yup, yup, yup—I’m doing fantastic. C’mon, it’s time for dinner! Let’s go, mom’s probably going to make some shitty toast about how much of a slut Shiv was in high school. Don’t wanna miss that, do we?”

Pursing your lips, you put a hand on his shoulder. “Romeo, I just think we should, I don’t know, talk about this—?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he stressed, stepping away so that your hand fell back to your side. “Gerri’s gonna take care of it. It’ll be fine.” Judging by his petrified countenance, he seemed not to have faith in his own words.

You watched as he walked off, taking Tabitha’s hand and leading her to the dinner tables. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you found your own seat at the end of the family longtable, downing the water in the glass in front of you in one go.

One by one, the Roy family gave their speeches for Shiv. Their words mostly flew over your head—you couldn’t really concentrate on the repeated sentiments when you’d just witnessed an explosion that Roman caused—which he refused to talk about with you. After dinner, it was time for more dancing, which you were really not in the mood for. But when Logan asked for your hand halfway through a song, you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no to your godfather.

You wondered if he knew about the launch. If he cared, even. Probably not.

“What’s wrong, dear?” he asked. “You look down. Did Romulus do something?”

“No,” you hastily said, a beat too soon. “I’m just a bit tired, is all.”

“Well, you know who to come to if something’s gone… awry.”

“Of course, Uncle Logan.”

The rest of the dance was spent in comfortable silence. Or, as comfortable as you could be around your tempestuous godfather. You thanked him for the dance once the song ended, before rushing off to go find a bathroom to lock yourself in for a quiet moment to yourself.

Half an hour later, when you psyched yourself up to slip out, you immediately bumped into Tom.

“Hey, Y/N, enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, uhm—yes, it’s been great. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks, thanks.” He rocked back on his heels awkwardly. “So, uh, you heard about Kendall, right?”

“What? What about him?”

Surprise etched over his features. “You don’t know? He planned a takeover. Yeah, Shiv is furious about it. He’s disappeared for a while now, I don’t know where he is.”

Your mouth dropped open as you struggled for words. “Sorry, excuse me, I have to go.” You brushed past the groom, off to find Roman to ask him what the hell was going on.

When you finally found him, he was just beginning to call Gerri over.

“Did you hear anything yet?” he asked her. He gave you a glance once you came up to his side, and he slung an arm over your hips—which was his way of nonverbally apologizing for being an asshole earlier today. He needed your comfort now more than anything.

“About?”

“Japan. Like, how many died—how many bodies they found?”

Gerri blinked. “Yeah, you didn’t hear?”

Dread filled your stomach.

“No?”

“None,” said the woman.

“None? Like—none none? None at all?”

Shrugging, Gerri said, “Two guys lost their thumbs, and there might be an arm that they can’t save but… they might.”

Instant relief lifted the weight off your shoulders. “So no casualties?”

“No, but it’s still tragic how—”

“Oh, my God,” Roman interrupted. “So—you’re—you fucking kidding me? This is amazing! Just an arm and a couple fucking thumbs? Jesus, this is great!” He burst into a fit of laughter, which made Gerri roll her eyes and walk away, clearly busy with the entire Kendall situation on her plate, as well.

Roman grabbed at your shoulders, shaking you with his excitement. “Did you hear that? I’m not a murderer!”

You took his hands, squeezing them with a warm smile. “Congrats. The bar is in hell, but congrats.”

With a strange noise emitting from his throat, Roman surged forward to hug you, squeezing you so tightly that you had to tap his shoulder repeatedly to remind him to loosen up.

“Do you wanna go dance? Let’s go dance!” he exclaimed over the surging music, pushing you to the dance floor. “C’mon, we’ll dance with Tabitha, let’s go, move your ass!”

For a moment, you let yourself forget about business and the takeover, smiling and laughing as you shuffled along to the beat with your best friend and his girlfriend. You let yourself believe that things were going to be okay.

Kendall joined the dance floor with his children an hour later. There was a haunted look to his eyes, but you chalked it up to his guilt for the company takeover without telling his siblings.

The next day, when you learned of the caterer who got high off his mind and crashed into the lake not too far from the venue, you never put the pieces together that Kendall was in the car with him.

It wasn’t Roman who became a murderer at his sister’s wedding. It was Kendall.

#roman roy x reader #roman roy fanfiction #roman roy fluff #roman roy series #roman roy ff #roman roy smut #roman roy angst #roman roy x you #roman roy fanfic #succession roman x reader #succession roman #roman roy #succession fanfiction #succession x reader #roman roy imagine

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storiesforallfandoms · 2 months

Text

can't get too close ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 3939

request?: no

description: in which they have feelings for one another, but he's afraid to admit it after losing his wife. instead, he decides to sabotage her dates, and she's tired of it

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of becca's death, a bit of angst, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Everyone in The Boys knew how Butcher felt about (Y/N). Hell, anyone with eyes knew. He was absolutely enamored with her, and she felt the same about him.

But, in true Butcher fashion, he was fucking up a good thing.

See, Butcher loved (Y/N), but before her he loved Becca. And even though he finally had closure on Becca, that closure came in the form of losing her. He was still hurting from her death when (Y/N) came along and took his breath away. He felt guilty at first for what he felt for (Y/N), but then that guilt quickly turned to realization that he couldn't have her. Not unless he wanted to put her in danger of Butcher's greatest enemy; Homelander.

That didn't stop him from making it so that no one else could have (Y/N) either.

Not that being a member of The Boys left much time for dates anyways, but on the rare times (Y/N) was able to get a date, they either mysteriously cancel last minute, or the date would go so terribly that there was definitely not going to be another one. She'd be getting frustrated with dating if she didn't know it was Butcher sabotaging everything for her.

(Y/N) wanted to go off on him for this. She wanted to tell him to either man up and take her out, or to leave her the fuck alone. She even thought about leaving The Boys and going far, far away, where Butcher would never find her and never fuck with her life again.

But Annie had other ideas.

(Y/N) was going undercover at a Vought event as an investor. The goal was to try and plant a bug on the new Vought CEO, Ashley Barrett. She wasn't as intimidating as Stan Edgar, according to Annie, so she should be easy to bug. Since (Y/N) was relatively new to the team, they figured it was safest for her to go into the event undercover, with Annie there in her Starlight persona as back up, and the rest of the tam listening from their van across the street.

Annie had picked out an outfit for (Y/N) to wear: a black, satin dress that hugged her body, had spaghetti straps and a V neck that showed off her cleavage, and a slit on the front for a little tasteful leg action.

Annie was beaming as she and (Y/N) looked at (Y/N) in the dress. "Oh yeah, he's going to want to tear this off you the second he sees you."

(Y/N) had to admit, she looked hot. Butcher was definitely going to think the same.

"Hey, are you guys ready to - whoa."

Hughie was at the door, staring at (Y/N) with wide eyes. She and Annie shared a smile before Annie spoke up, "Yes Hughie?"

He seemed to snap out of his trance upon hearing his girlfriend's voice. "We're ready to go."

"I'm ready," (Y/N) said. To Annie she asked, "When will you be there?"

"I have to go back to the Tower to get changed, then Homelander wants all of us to arrive together. I should be there shortly after you arrive."

(Y/N) nodded. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then went to follow Hughie out of the room.

All eyes were on her the moment she stepped out of the room. Kimiko was giving her the same smile Annie had, while the men were all looking at her the same way Hughie had. But the only person (Y/N) cared about was Butcher, who was letting his eyes rake over her body, from top to bottom then back up again. She felt a little pride rising in her and mentally reminded herself to thank Annie for the dress.

"We have to get going," M.M. said, finally breaking the moment between (Y/N) and Butcher. "The event is starting, and you don't want to be too fashionably late."

They piled into the van, sans Annie, and drove towards the event location. They went over the plan once more, but (Y/N) was only half paying attention. She kept glancing at Butcher. He had been silent the entire time, and he looked like he was trying hard not to look back at her.

They dropped her off a little ways away from the event so it didn't look suspicious if anyone saw her getting out of the van. She walked up to the event, nervousness finally setting in. What if the security saw through her fake ID? What if they found the bug in her clutch? What if one of the Supes saw her and somehow recognized her as a member of The Boys? The "what if"s were swirling in her head as she stepped up to the security and handed them her fake ID. She held back a sigh of relief as the security passed it back and waved her in.

"I'm in," she whispered to the mic she had been given to keep in contact with the others.

"Great. Barrett should be there by now. All you have to do is get access to her phone and plant the bug," M.M. said.

"Simple," (Y/N) muttered, sarcastically.

She surveyed the area until she found the familiar face she was looking for. Ashley was in conversation with another investor. She was smiling and nodding, but it was clear she wanted to get away from there as soon as possible.

"Eyes on Barrett," she said.

After some time, Ashley excused herself and started to walk towards (Y/N). She started reaching for her phone, which gave (Y/N) an idea.

"I'm going in."

She started towards Ashley. Ashley was distracted, so she didn't see (Y/N) moving close enough for the two of them to collide. As planned, the phone fell to the floor. (Y/N) quickly covered it with her foot.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" she said. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

Ashley sighed in frustration, but plastered on a smile. "It's fine. No harm done."

She started walking away, not realizing she had left her phone. (Y/N) picked it up and slipped the bug from her clutch. Luckily, Ashley's phone case slipped easily from her phone, and (Y/N) was able to plant the bug in a few seconds flat. She put the phone case back in place and turned to where Ashley was still walking away.

"Wait!" she called. "You dropped your phone!"

Ashley turned on her heel as (Y/N) rushed to her to give her her phone. "God, thank you. I would've been so fucked if I lost this."

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. When Ashley walked away, she finally let her body relax. "Bug is planted."

"You work fast, mon amie," Frenchie commented.

"Well, Annie was right when she said Ashley was easier than Stan Edgar would've been." (Y/N) grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server. "I'll miss around and socialize for a bit to keep up the ruse, then I'll be out."

She downed the champagne and placed the empty glass on a nearby table.

"Whoa, slow down there. The night is still young."

(Y/N) jumped. Suddenly, stood beside her was a handsome young man, smiling a dazzling smile at her. He seemed to be just another investor, so she let herself relax just a little.

"I don't intend to be here long, so may as well take advantage of the free champagne while I can," she responded.

"I don't blame you. These things are all the same; sucking off Vought while they suck off their own heroes, then giving them money to do it again. I only come here because they have the finest scotch and the best food."

"I haven't gotten to try either yet."

"Well, let me introduce you to the best shit you've ever tasted."

He extended a hand to (Y/N). She knew it was potentially dangerous to let this go any further. Who knows how connected this guy was to Vought, and if she stayed for too long, she risked getting spotted by Homelander and having him figure out her true identity. But, she'd be lying if she said she didn't think this man was extremely attractive. And really, who was it going to hurt if she flirted with him for a bit? Worse case scenario, he gave her his number and she never actually called him. Best case scenario, she'd be waking up in his bed the next morning.

So, she took his hand. His smile was bright enough to light up the room as he led her towards the refreshments table.

"My name is Dan, by the way," he told her.

"Maggie," she responded, giving him the fake name they had agreed on when making her fake ID. If she was never going to see him again, may as well make sure he couldn't actually find her.

"(Y/N), what are you doing?" came a voice through her earpiece.

It took her just a second to realize it was Butcher.

When Dan turned away, she turned to whisper into her mic, "Having a bit of fun."

"No way, get out of there," Butcher commanded. "Don't let yourself be seen, it's too dangerous."

Instead of listening, she switched off her ear piece and put it into her clutch before Dan turned back to her.

"So," he said, "here is the spread."

"Spread" was almost an understatement. There was more food laid out than (Y/N) could ever dream of seeing in her life. It was almost insulting when she realized how many homeless and starving people Vought could be feeding with this amount of food, but they would probably toss the remains in the garbage at the end of the night. Almost, because right now all she wanted was to dig into that food.

"Can I get you anything from the bar?" Dan asked. "Maybe some of that scotch I mentioned?"

"No offense, Dan, but I would prefer to be with you if you're getting me a drink from the bar," she said. "A girl can't be too careful."

Dan chuckled and shrugged. "Hey, I can't be mad at that. There are plenty of creeps here, even in a room with the Earth's mightiest heroes."

Yeah, and the leader of that team is one of the worst, (Y/N) thought to herself. The irony.

They decided to get a plate each before (Y/N) followed Dan to the bar. They ordered a drink each, then took their servings to a nearby table that was empty.

"If only I brought a bigger purse," (Y/N) said. "I'd be taking some of that food home with me."

Dan laughed. "If I thought it would clear security, I'd bring a duffle bag for that reason. I mean, it's all being bought with our money anyways, right? We should be allowed to take as much home with us as we want to."

"Most people don't realize that this is where investor money is really going to," she said. "They think it's just going to the Supes to make sure they can save the day, but why would Supes need that shit? They have fucking powers. Money isn't going to make them any more or less super."

Dan picked up his glass and held it out to her. "Amen to that."

They tapped their glasses and took a sip together. (Y/N) had to admit, Dan was right. This was some of the finest scotch she had ever tasted, and usually she didn't like scotch at all.

"Do you ever wonder why we come to this shit when we don't even believe in it?" Dan asked.

(Y/N) tried not to meet his eye as she responded, "This is my first time."

It wasn't a total lie, but she was sure he would see right through her ruse if she looked at him.

"This is my third, and I'll tell you, it doesn't live up to any of the hype around it," he said. "I had a business partner the last two years, but he quit after last year's and no one else wanted to come tonight. I thought this thing was going to be unbearable on my own."

"I guess it's lucky you met me then."

His dazzling smile returned, taking (Y/N)'s breath away. "Very lucky."

It wouldn't be hard to convince Dan to leave the event early. That was definitely a positive, because (Y/N) didn't want to be here long after The Seven had arrived, which would probably be any minute now. She figured she would finish the drink that Dan was nice enough to buy for her, then she'd make the move to ask Dan to bring her back to his place. A little lean forward, letting the cleavage do it's thing, maybe brush her leg against his for good measure too. She knew he would definitely agree in a heartbeat.

But her plans were foiled when Dan glanced over her shoulder and his eyes suddenly went wide. (Y/N)'s brows knitted together in confusion before she looked over her shoulder and nearly choked at the sight.

Billy Butcher was storming through a Vought event, right towards the two of them.

"C'mon," he said to her, grabbing her arm and trying to yank her from her seat. "We're leaving."

"Hey buddy, let go of the lady," Dan said, standing from his seat.

"You stay the fuck out of this," Butcher growled.

"Butcher, what the fuck are you doing?!" (Y/N) whisper-shouted at him.

"I'm gettin' you out of here before you get yourself hurt," he responded.

"I am fine."

But Butcher wasn't listening. He grabbed her arm again and pulled her to stand. (Y/N) looked back at Dan, wishing she could somehow explain to him, but it was no use. Butcher was dragging her away, Dan watching with a bewildered expression on his face before he disappeared behind a crowd of people.

The security looked at each other then back at (Y/N) in concern as Butcher towed her past them. There was no use in getting their help. She was sure Butcher was about to murder anyone who stood in his way of getting her out of there.

"Let go of me you fucking prick!" she snapped, finally yanking her arm free of him. "You could've blown the entire goddamn operation!"

"Get in the van," he hissed at her.

She was tempted to refuse, to turn around and run back into the event to find Dan and beg him to take her home with him. But she knew that would only cause a scene, and the last thing any of them needed was someone from Vought recognizing Butcher and ruining their entire plan.

So, she got into the van. She climbed into the back and sat between Hughie and Kimiko. Hughie was looking at her with sympathy, while Kimiko took her hand and allowed (Y/N) to put her head on her shoulder.

"Tell Annie I'm with you guys," she told Hughie. He nodded and took his phone out to do just that.

The ride back to their office was silent and tense. (Y/N) could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her, but she wasn't about to let it out now. The rest of the team didn't do anything to her. She was sure they had tried to stop Butcher from storming in there, because anyone with a functioning brain knew that was a stupid fucking idea. Butcher was the outlet to her anger, and he was the one who was going to get the brunt of it eventually.

When they got back, they all went their separate ways without another word. (Y/N) told everyone she had to go back to the office to get something, but none of them really believed her. They knew she needed to let out some steam, and they were going to let her do just that.

She took the elevator up to their office. She was alone at first, which she was grateful for. She didn't think she could handle being in such a small space with Butcher by themselves. She may end up stopping the elevator and killing him with her bare hands. But it wasn't long after she stepped out of the elevator that it went back down to the first floor and picked up Butcher, bringing him back up into the room with her.

And she was waiting for him. The moment he stepped out, he was met with the sting of a slap across his cheek.

"You're a goddamn idiot," she hissed.

"I was trying to stop ya from gettin' yourself hurt, or worse," he argued.

"No you weren't, Butcher! Don't give me that fucking bullshit! You were fucking upset that I was flirting with another guy, so you had to break it up. Don't think that I don't know that's what you've been doing to all my dates for months now."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She scoffed. "Oh yeah, right. I guess I'm just talking out of my ass about the fact that every date I've gone on for nearly a year now has ended terribly, or hasn't gone ahead at all."

"Maybe you're just goin' out with the wrong blokes."

(Y/N) buried her head in her hands and let out a frustrated groan. "I'm so sick of this, Billy. I'm sick of you ruining everything for me!"

That seemed to be enough to leave Butcher speechless, so she carried on.

"I thought we had something, or that we could have something. But you never made a move. And it killed me that you didn't, but I wasn't going to push anything if that's not how you felt. I tried to move on, but goddammit it you won't fucking let me! You're always prying on my dates, somehow threatening them into cancelling or making sure the date goes horribly wrong. If a man so much as looks at me, you make it your life mission to ruin him. And I'm so sick and tired of it! If you have feelings for me, just fucking tell me! Otherwise, leave me the fuck alone!"

"I can't!" Butcher snapped, startling her with his raised voice.

"What do you mean you can't?"

And for the first time since she had met him, (Y/N) saw Billy Butcher show an emotion other than anger and cockiness; vulnerability.

"I can't just tell you how I feel," he responded, "because if I do, you might get hurt. Or worse."

"Hurt by who?"

He gave her a look that answered the question for her.

She almost laughed, but managed to stop herself. "Butcher, I'm already a part of The Boys. What I did tonight put me in more danger than being your girlfriend ever would."

"No," Butcher said, shaking his head. "That's not true, is it? Because if I tell you how I feel, if we decided to make this an official thing between us, and he found out? You'd be his next target. There's no place you could go that would truly protect you, because he'd make it his life mission to find you."

He was telling the truth, and (Y/N) knew it. If there was one person in the world that Homelander wanted to hurt the most, it was Butcher. He didn't want to kill Butcher, because that would mean he no longer had an adversary. No, Homelander wanted to mess with Butcher. He wanted to hurt him again and again, to dig the knife in and keep turning it. He did it with Becca first, now with Ryan.

And if he ever found out about (Y/N), she would be his next target.

She stepped towards Butcher, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"What if I'm not afraid?"

Butcher scoffed. "Come off it."

"I'm serious! What if I'm not afraid of Homelander?"

"I'd say you're fuckin' stupid."

"Maybe I am! But I'd put it all at risk to be with you. You wanna know why? Because I know that you would protect me. You wouldn't let him within ten yards of me without standing in his way."

He scoffed. "Yeah, like I did with Becca?"

"Hey." She took his chin in her hand. "Becca was not your fault. You didn't know what happened to her until after she went missing, and then you tried for years to find her. Even when everyone else gave up on her, you didn't. And then you found her. You would've gotten her away from him if it weren't for Stormfront."

There were tears forming in his eyes, but (Y/N) could see he was trying so hard not to cry in front of her.

"I can't let that happen to you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I can't handle losing you, too."

"You won't."

"You can't promise that."

"And you can't promise I won't lose you. Especially when you're doing stupid shit like barging into a Vought event that is armed to the teeth with guards, and is hosting the entire Seven who would mostly kill you if Homelander gave the order."

Butcher chuckled. "Okay, that was definitely a stupid thing of me to do."

(Y/N) looked at him with faux shock. "Hold on, did the Billy Butcher just admit he was wrong? Someone call the press!"

His laugh sounded like music to her ears. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, the walls finally dropping between them.

"I don't think I could ever forgive myself if something happened to you because of me," he admitted.

"Well then, good thing it won't be your fault," she said. "If anything, it'll be mine. I was the one stupid enough to fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I've got to say, not a smart one on your part."

She giggled and leaned into him. Taking her lead, Butcher leaned closer and closed the space between them. When his lips touched hers, it was like fireworks were going off around them. Months of waiting for this moment, and it definitely turned out to be everything she expected. She wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing her fingers to run through his dark hair. He was holding her so close to him, as if afraid that she would disappear if he let go. But she wasn't going anywhere, and that was a promise she intended on keeping.

When they finally broke apart, Butcher eyed her again. She finally remembered then that she was still in the black dress.

"I can't believe you were going to go home with that cunt," he said.

"He bought me fancy alcohol and made me feel desired," she responded with an innocent shrug. "Can you blame a girl?"

"Yes I can, because he was a right twat and didn't deserve to be the one to take this dress off of ya."

"Because that's your job?"

And just like that, the signature Butcher grin was back on his face. That stupid fucking grin, oh how she loved it.

"Well, I wasn't going to say it outright, but now that you've mentioned it yourself."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and kissed Butcher again. "Then take me back to your place so you can take it off of me."

She exclaimed as Butcher suddenly picked her up and started carrying her to the elevator. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Too late!"

#billy butcher #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x reader #karl urban #karl urban x reader #karl urban imagine #the boys #the boys imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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rcksmith · 1 year

Text

Untouchable - Five Hargreeves

You can find the 2 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2.

Resume: The villain falls in love with the girl.

Trope: “ Who did this to you?” “Touch her and you are dead.” “i´ll find you in every lifetime”

Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.

Warnings: A LOT OF ANGST, swearing, mention of death, blood, fight between the Hargreeves and the Sparrows,a little enemies to lovers in the end, fluff, SMUT, degrading talk.

Word count: 15k.

A/N: Spoiler from season 3.

OMG THIS IS HUGE JAHHSHDAHSDJAHDHND it turned out bigger than i expected.

Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down.

We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️

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Honor comes from the Latin honoris. Indicating a person who lives with honesty and probity, basing their way of life on the dictates of morality. A principle that leads someone to have a righteous, virtuous conduct, which allows to enjoy a good reputation in society.

Five Hargreeves thought of himself as a callous man with no honor and, somehow, able to drown out the voice of morality in his head. He was very knowledgeable about literature and history, and his physics and math skills could surpass Tesla's, but philosophy for him was a bunch of weak principles and dictated by people who didn't really know the world, who didn't pass 1% of what he passed by, who did not see what he saw. Not even Socrates, Plato or Machiavelli had known the worst of humanity like him, the truth about realities. A big part of his existence came down to surviving, fighting, winning, crushing everything that threatened his life.

His cynical outlook on life led him to pragmatism, and he knows that if he wants something done, he will have to do it himself.

His actions were more about getting things done than about displaying a display of rebellion or power. However, Five was not afraid of pain or even killing. He didn't mind being the author of the worst massacres if it meant going back to his family.

Five Hargreeves don't give a damn about being the villain of the story. He did what had to be done.

It was why, when The Handle ordered him to carry out the death sentence of a Duke and Duchess in 1730, Five did not question or hesitate.

Even though in the back of his mind, in a very small part of his brain, the question arose as to why people from such an old and outdated date, he did nothing about it, much less pulled the thread from the ball of yarn that would trigger a series of questions in a row. His job was not to ask why, to investigate step by step, to go through file by file. Five wasn't on The Commission to know the reason for each death, he was on the execution.

So he went, letting the suitcase unfold before his eyes an ancient era, from a faraway time, introducing him to carriages, flowing dresses, gigantic balls. And, as much as some people considered that era poetic, Five never liked lack of practicality.

So he killed the couple as quickly as possible, determined to escape from the need to spend more hours in that old-fashioned place.

It was like any other murder he had committed over the years on The Commission; he came, killed, and left. No looking back, no questions, no hesitation. Drowning in the deepest wave any second feelings that might have submerged, ensuring his emotions were chained very well at the bottom of the ocean.

It was easy, normal, routine. He was once again the villain, and could sleep very well the night with that.

But something began to change gradually in the atmosphere, in the air.

On some mornings, it was as if Five's hands were tingling for no apparent reason, eager to catch up something he had no idea what it was. On some afternoons, his heart vibrated in his chest, like a ground being punished by an earthquake, shaking his balanced state of mind. And, on some dawns, Five's mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert, thirsty for something that not even the coldest water could appease.

Wherever he was the air stayed suddenly thin, stuffy. And sometimes, in the middle of a mission, the wind seemed to blow in only one direction, hitting Hargreeves' back as if pushing him to go in a path. At those moments, his heart returned fluttered in his chest, as if he knew that one north was calling him and was that where he needed to go.

Everything inside Hargreeves began to be affected by strange reactions, spurred by banal, mundane events.

An in a few seconds, if Five stood completely still, silencing his thoughts and hollowing out any inner voices, he could hear something in the wind calling for him. Small seconds that swept away any balance that one day he ever had.

Five Hargreeves was going through a peripeteia, and he had no idea what was causing it.

What hell is going on?

It was wen, on an afternoon where the sun hid with shame among the dark gray clouds, The Handler gave him another murder.

In 1750.

His soul shuddered inside him in that second, echoing through his bones, keeping Five's egyptian green eyes fixed on the paper in his hands, unable to look away from the bold numbers that indicated the date of his next mission.

The icy breeze ruffled his dark hair, but he didn't move. There seemed to be something important and unspoken in the air, and this time, the voice calling his name on the wind grew softly louder. Now, it didn't seem to come from the back of his mind anymore, but from a place far away.

Five looked around, in an instinctive movement in the pathetic and vain attempt to find the source of that voice.

Nothing. As always.

“Five.” The Handler snapped her fingers in front of his face “May I have your precious attention?" The irony didn't go unnoticed, but his eyes flickered to hers. “As I was saying, the time and place of this mission is strictly important. Viscount Sebastian needs to be killed in his office at midnight, in the middle of his daughter's debut ball, not a minute less and nowhere else.”

Hargreeves gave a nod. Not because he had devoted all of his attention to her, just because he wanted her to stop talking. Much of his concentration was still on the way his body and the hemisphere around him behaved. Mission times and places were standard, no need to focus on this nonsense and listen to someone reiterate the rules as if Five were a child. He was 26 years old, a child was the last thing he was.

Something seemed to be happening, occult like a current that rattles under the sea. And the knowledge that he couldn't see the bottom of the ocean unnerved every cell in his body. Hargreeves couldn't stand things he couldn't perceive, understand how it works, take it apart and put it back together again.

This time, when Five returned to the eighteenth century, with 20 years having passed in that time after his visit and only 2 weeks for him, what hit him first was not the impracticality, the carriages, the big dresses. But the wind. Strong, cold, bringing with it the voice who called his name for weeks, now loud and clear.

The dark strands of his body prickled, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Suddenly, anxiety snaked through his body like venom, stirring every fiber in his body, pumping something into his veins that made his blood heat like lava. An emotion he couldn't name what it was.

In the last mission, Five had a string of complaints about the way the black waistcoat squeezed the white linen shirt over his abdomen, and how heavy the straight-cut coat felt heavy under his shoulders. But in this time, he wasn't bothered with the clothes he had to wear so as not to attract attention and go unnoticed. Now, with his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry and the constant feeling that he had to be somewhere urgently, his clothes were the last things on his mind.

It was an emotion that squeezed the pit of his stomach, made his hands itch and his body shot with an adrenaline that screamed that he needed to move. That he had a more important place to be. All the sensations he'd felt leisurely over the weeks now came back with absurd force, as if he were getting close to the source of it all.

What was happening?

The moon in that far away era shone sovereignly in the sky, blessing the houses, carriages and large mansions with cascades of distilled light in the purest color of silver.

Las time, the feeling that came over Five was to get out of there as quickly as possible. But now, looking around in search of the source of the voice calling him in the wind, the last thing on his mind was leaving.

His watch still read eight o'clock, but the sensation was like he was already late.

The most practical plan was to stay hidden somewhere near the mansion where the ball was being held. Avoiding crowds, witnesses, minimizing risk and being a shadow. As always did. The most rational thing to do was to stay away from that place at all costs, until the inevitable arrived and he was forced to enter through one of the windows.

He should have done it. But he didn't.

Just as a sailor follows a siren's song on the high seas, Five followed that voice on the wind. His brain screamed for him to seek a hiding place, but his soul rebelled with an absurd ferocity, ricocheting tremors through all his bones and ordering his legs to follow a path his conscious did not know. His whole mind was confused, but his soul carried a certainty that no other living being had ever had in they life.

With no other option, stunned by the sensations in his own body, he found himself walking towards the front door of the only place he was supposed to avoid until midnight.

If Five Hargreeves had to describe what was happening to his five senses, he would say that his vision was mildly blurred, as if were searching for focus. The smell was of climax and the ambient sounds were drowned out by his own heartbeat. It was like being there in flesh and blood, but not in soul.

He didn't focus on the details of the world around him, but he knew when he finished climbing the front steps. He couldn't focus on the conversation around him, but he knew that a few people were walking beside him.

His mind saw everything, but processed nothing.

It was a mistake not to be 100% aware of the environment, not to study each individual's body language, not to constantly calculate the odds of a move going wrong. But... it was as if something prevented him from emerging to the surface.

Five didn't respond when the butler greeted him at the entrance to the great hall, but looked around as the wind from outside hit his back and his name rang in his ears once more.

It was a female voice. Now he could tell.

Going deeper into the hall, the melody of the orchestra invaded his ears while thousands of people, talking, dancing and drinking, took his view. Everything resembled a blur on a painting, the sounds were still muffled as if Five were at the bottom of the sea, and the smell transitioned between flowers, feminine perfume and poetry.

Five Hargreeves was a pragmatic, cynical and austere man. Everything that made up his being was based on rationality, laws of physics and mathematical concepts, he wasn't oscillated by tender things and he certainly wasn't carried away by things of the heart or soul. He always followed what rationality dictated. Until now.

Until now.

Like a violin string that ruptured, Hargreeves was gripped by the feeling that something very important was about to happen. Something that would not only change his existence forever, but change him for eternity. This fact stared him at back, bold, warm and as inevitable as the setting sun. And very hair on his body stood on end at once while everything inside him pulsed with a brutality that could shake his bones.

Now, the sound of the orchestra was drowned out by the soundtrack of his life, which was coming closer to apex by the second. It was like being submerged in a slow-motion, in a moment that preceded an momentous event.

As magnets are pulled one by the other in an impassable way, his eyes, as if they already knew where to look, were drawn to a figure among the others who danced in the middle of the hall.

You.

Was like an explosion. Loud and brutal. He suddenly submerged from the bottom of the sea, bewildered, desperate, out of breath. The stupor released itself all at once, bringing his mind back to the reality. Instantaneously, nothing was blurred anymore, sounds weren't muffled, and he abruptly returned to his conscious state. But his soul was not so lucky. Like being whipped by live eels, his heart pounded in his chest with such fury that he leaned over forward millimeters, his throat was drier than the Egyptian desert and now his hands itched in a hellish, bestial, uncontrollable way.

Five Hargreeves has released himself from a wave of numbness only to be hit by a tsunami of sensation.

His eyes were seeing everything clearly now, but he couldn't take his attention away from the female figure dancing in the middle of the room, her bouffant gown swirling gracefully across the floor as if deities were blowing the fabrics.

There were a lot of people around him, in front of him, behind him, but Five Hargreeves only had eyes for you.

In an insane, magical and inexplicable logic, Five had the purest certainty that it was your voice that called him in the wind, that was by the desire to touch your skin that his hands itched. Five would never be able to explain it to other people, but at that moment, there was nothing more concrete on Earth, in physics and science, than the certainty that was because of you that his soul felt, so many times, that he should be somewhere else.

Like the indubitability that you need oxygen to breathe, touching your skin has become just as indispensable. It was a matter of needing, something that now not only itched his hands, but corroded the bones in his fingers.

There was no reason for all those absurd feelings, Five had never even seen you before. But rationality had no space in that moment.

There, in that rift between the past, future and parallel realities, there was no discernment, lucidity, judgment. It was a hideaway free of any cohesiveness, with the smell of romance, an atmosphere full of emotion, passion and poetry. A distant era that allowed, for the first time in many years, that the soul of Five Hargreeves to take control of his body.

He moved, one step after another, his focus petrified on you. With each centimeter closer to your body, the more he felt able to breathe again, relieving the brutal anxiety that had been beating him for weeks, giving a truce to the martyrdom that lacerate him day after day without even him even knowing why.

You had finished your dance, clapping along with the other guests for the orchestra that started the new melody, this time more lyrical.

Your hair, the tone of which seemed to be the personification of poetry, of art, was tied in a bun that allowed a few strands to fall under your neck, the skin of your bust was speckled with a few little droplets of sweat, the perfect amount to glisten under the yellowish light of the candles in the chandelier, making a divine, almost celestial aurora radiate from you. The dark blue gown referred back to the night sky in its greatest splendor, highlight your full breasts at the straight neckline and opening at the hips in a skirt that preached the illusion of you being floating across the hall. Your lips were a red that Five had never seen in his life. A red that seemed to exist only to serve you, enhancing the color of your eyes.

You were like a mirage. An oasis in the farthest desert. One of those paintings that people come from all over the world to see in person, capable of sweeping, taking they breath away, making they cry for having to live with the burden of never having the possibility of knowing you in life.

The romantic period was going on in that century, society was tired of trends in intellectual thinking, rationalization, industrialization and the veneration of science. People longed for an escape into emotionally charged images and fantastical fiction in the visual arts and literature. And Five Hargreeves was certain that you were one of the greatest inspirations of this movement. It was so clear that you were the influence of John Waterhouse's paintings, sweeping the hearts of artists and illuminating poets. Lord Byron was thinking of you when he created the short lyric poem “She Walks in Beauty”, completely fascinated by you.

That thought shuddered Five's soul even more. And an acidic emotion rose in his throat and burned his eyes. In his chest was injected the feeling that he was facing one of the greatest beauties in history, the person the poems and paintings were based on, the inspiration for so many names of literature and art that would become renowned.

There, in front of him, was more than a person. It was a piece of history, art, literature, a beauty that was immortalized and that would be admired even after centuries. Five had already gone to different times in the past, but nothing touched his soul as much as now. As much as you.

Five Hargreeves went in your direction like a sailor following a siren's song across the seven seas.

You were relatively distracted when he got to you. Lungs catching breath from the last dance, body preparing for the next, your mind was on that ballroom but your heart was far away. It was universally true that girls your age should revel in balls like this one. Full of potential husbands, dancing and music, governed by a perfect night for falling in love. You came to like it in the past, but now, after so many similar events, everything didn't have the same magic anymore.

You've heard enough stories - filled with adrenaline, pirate ships and dangerous waters - to crave adventure in your life. It was also noticed that you spent too much time with your books, and that the consequence of spending so many hours in the fictional world brought you very high standards for men and love. The whispers through the darkened streets were that you would end up a spinster. Since you took no interest in any gentleman who courted your hand.

In your defense, it wasn't your fault. The men in your reality were terribly...tasteless.

That was until he showed up.

You don't know where he emerged, or what lineage he was from, much less his name. But he came towards you like that was more important than breathing. In a virile, perfect posture. As if he knew all the secrets of the world and was able to show you them.

One of the first things you noticed were the eyes. The room was partially dark, lit only by the flickering candles in the candelabra, but the darkness only made his eyes clearer. Intense greens. Of such a pure emerald tone that it shone like a mystical cat, calling you to sink in his greenish sea. The stranger had hair as black as midnight, which fell softly and romantically over a face with firm features; jaw as sharp as a razor and a nose full of masculine personality. Although was well dressed, all his clothes, with the exception of the white linen shirt, were as dark as the strands of his hair, something unusual among the sophisticated gentlemen who were invited.

Looking at that gorgeous face, you were left speechless. The deities had been generous to this man, gifting him with bold, aristocratic features and iris as green as Egypt's most precious jewels. The mystery and secrets contained within in those eyes were a fascinating contrast.

“Can I have this dance?” Just a sentence.

He didn't introduce himself, he didn't say who he was. He just dropped that sentence as if it was the only thing he really cared to say.

The gravity of his words made your heart flutter. What a beautiful voice that man had. With a provocative huskiness, a touch of superb, as if he were an oracle at his peak in ancient Greece. The sound seemed to seep into your body and run through you like warm honey.

The truth was, you had reserved the dance for another gentleman, but in that second, you couldn't care less.

“Of course, milord.” That's what you said, accepting the hand he extended to you.

Never taking his eyes off yours, an unfamiliar sensation washed over your mortal body and engulfed everyone around you. You wondered if it was just the stuff of your imagination or if he too felt the electricity whip through his body as he positioned you closer to dance.

Single women weren't allowed to touch men's hands if you weren't wearing gloves, and that rule had never bothered you. Until now.

Until be affected by an insane, visceral desire to feel that man's skin. Of experiencing the heat radiating from his hand against yours, of feeling those white fingers, slender and pale, holding your denude skin. You've never been touched by a man without a layer of clothing intervening. No brushing of elbows, no bumped of fingers, no errant caresses. And you wondered what it was about that man that made you aware of this deprivation. That stranger radiated secrets in an inexplicable but extremely palpable way in the air and you wanted to feel the touch of mystery on your skin more than you wanted to breathe. A will as strong as fear, as intense as hunger.

Your soul screamed in frustration because of the dress when his hand cupped your cover waist. In a touch so firm it only existed in the romance novels you read. Your heart raced, your breath disappeared, and you didn't notice when you rested your hand on his shoulder and your feet began to follow the rhythm of the waltz.

It was pathetic the intensity of your emotions for a man you had just met and didn't even know his name. But, it was like you'd found something didn't even know you'd lost.

Well… if it was the lack of knowledge of his name that was making things a little difficult…

“Aren't you going to tell me your name? Mine is Y/n”

Your voice, sweet as molasses, velvety as suede, made the hairs on the back of Five's neck stand on end. He recognized the timbre now, he had already heard you calling for him in the wind, but nothing surpassed hearing you from inches away.

This was one of those moments where, if you asked Five why he was doing this, he couldn't answer. He couldn't find any logical answers to his actions, reactions, thoughts. But, once again, this rift in space and time was an environment free of rationality. He didn't need this here. He felt he didn't need to. Not when had you in his arms.

A name…

Five Hargreeves was the name of a villain. Someone who would carry on his shoulders to the grave the weight of the thousands of souls he killed. Someone whose hands were marked, eternally, with thick, hot blood. A proof that his destiny was traced directly to hell. His name was the personification of a freak created to be a hero, an orphan in the apocalypse, a man who belonged nowhere in the timeline, someone without family for many decades.

He looked at the hands that held you. The hands of a serial killer. And then he looked at you, full of beauty, life, happiness and innocence. It was like committing a crime against nature to hold something so pure in such infamous, disgraced, death-scarred hands. And something inside he twisted with something like pain…disgust, for the fist time.

His soul didn't want to hold you in the hands of Five Hargreeves.

Five Hargreeves was the villain. And he didn't want to be that man right there.

His mouth, which looked so beautiful yet so dangerous, softly approached the foot of your ear, while the body of you two continued to follow the steps of the waltz. "We don't need names here."

A current of electricity slammed into your body like a whiplash from a live eel, raising goose bumps on parts of your skin you didn't even know you had. My goodness, it was a sin for a single man to have that much charm.

Sensible young women would have turned away at once. Practical girls who appreciated rationality, sincerity and transparency, who had no estimate for games, mystery and sensuality, would have rolled their eyes. But you were not sensible, practical or appreciative of the good customs of the epoch.

You were romantic, hungry for a good charade, adventure. And that man seemed to be built by those two things.

The world was just a shapeless blur, other people were no more than wandering silhouettes, and the atmosphere was enraptured by the flickering orange light of the candles in the candelabra. The smell was of poetry, romance and freedom, which intoxicated the brain and alcoholize any common sense. Was like a magical place in the middle of space and time, a rift that allowed just being. Time passed slowly, as if dancing together with you two.

‘One second can change many things...’

Just as Five could hear his father's voice saying 'I told you so' during his years in the apocalypse, he could hear his words now.

‘you can crumble empires, win battles...’

Five swirled you around before pulling you into his arms once more, his heart pounding with each passing moment. Neither of you realized it, but every second you spent together, every step, more messed up the timeline.

You smiled full of romance and magic as he leaned you back, his hand firm on your spine, bringing you to the surface and returning to dance around the hall with the waltz that dandle yours bodies.

‘you can fall in love.’

With every strong step the two of you took on the floor, in an apocalypse dance, realities were immediately misaligned. With each spin, lines of events were exploded into other universes. With each look shared, with each smile, with each heartbeat full of romance, people were erased, born, disappeared.

An apocalypse was brewing somewhere because of his hands on your body. A mystical waltz that brought the ascension of chaos in other timelines.

Neither of you two knew about it. But if Five knew, he wouldn't keep his hands off you anyway. Five Hargreeves was the villain in many realities. And he would accept the burden of being in a few more if it meant having you in his arms.

In an inexplicable and irrational way, what was happening now had more importance than everything he had ever lived and would live through in his entire life.

"You dance very well." You praised him, and his hands on you tighten a little more.

"No more than you". Then he gave that smile.

The half smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. Malicious, sagacious, sphinx. Who promised to know all the mysteries of the world and show you all the sins of life. What man was that? So full of charm, sensuality, beauty. He seemed out of this world and you found yourself wishing that time would freeze in that moment, that you could hold onto your chest and live in that dance for the rest of your life.

There was something different in the air. A soul-deep feeling that whispered that your life would never be the same again.

Not after this man.

“It is not difficult to find women who dance.” You joked. "You've certainly danced with others to know."

Yes, with his mother and Allison.

But even if he had been dancing with all the women in the world, they would have disappeared in that moment. No memories memory experiences with other women could stand out at that moment.

"If I danced, they all disappeared the moment I waltzed with you." He realized he might have said the right thing, because he could see the breath go out of your lungs and cheekbones flush deliciously.

God in heaven… this girl was breathtakingly beautiful.

Five led you around the hall masterfully, committing your features to his mind like the tattoo on his wrist. Permanently, eternally. Suddenly, he was struck down by the insane desire to know more about you. To hear more of your voice, to taste the way the words flowed from your lips like the purest honey.

You were like a drug, an obsession. An addiction that had stuck with him since the first time he came into that century, since he breathed the same air as you, since he coexisted under the same night sky as you. There was insane logic in the fact that his soul felt your presence without even seeing you on that first mission. He would never be able to explain it, but somehow it made sense inside in him.

Five Hargreeves didn't think about what would happen when he had to leave. He didn't think about the withdrawal his body would suffer when he was away from you. Much less noticed the way there seemed to be something important in the air. If he had been in full intellectual faculties and grounded in rationality, he would have managed to understand that that something was the temporal lines collapsing, an apocalypse forming elsewhere, pure and perfect chaos destroying parallel realities.

But he was not being led by rationality. And even if he was, he wouldn't have minded a few worlds burning if it meant having you next to his body. He didn't care. But The Commission was a different case.

But Five Hargreeves wasn't thinking about any of that.

He conducted a conversation with you the way he conducted that waltz. He discovered that you liked the high seas even though you were never allowed to be on a ship. You loved nature and enjoyed good books. He heard your eagerness to know the world and learn about different cultures, that you wanted to unravel the mysteries of Egypt, see the architecture of Greece, visit Spain and wanted to go swim in the beaches of Brazil. You were an adventurer, and Five's heart skipped a beat for it.

But in a corner of his soul, deep down, he felt an ache reverberate through his bones. The urge to tell you about the world came with overwhelming force, and something inside him died when he realized he could never tell you the truth about the subjects you cared about.

He could never tell all that the world already knew about Egypt, about its tombs and its pharaohs. He could never be able to show the beauty of Brazil's beaches that become famous tourist spots, and he reserved a note in his brain that you would have loved to visit Genipabu in Brazil, a beach with huge sand dunes that seemed to be the junction of a huge desert whit a beach. He could not tell you what science, oceanography and marine biologists already knew about the oceans. He could never say about the cruises that roamed the seas in all the luxury and comfort, much less about the planes.

Five Hargreeves would never be able to show you the world. And his soul decided to torture itself even more thinking about what it would be like if you were from his time. The things you would do, the freedom you could enjoy.

He could show you anything you wanted, tell you the secrets of the universe…His secrets.

When the waltz was over, on a note as dramatic as the situation, you couldn't say goodbye to him. Your soul, enchanted and completely enraptured by the man in front of you, vehemently refused to remove your hand over his. It seemed that every molecule in your body, every corner of your spirit, every fiber of your being, had defined that it was with that man that they wanted to stay. Forever.

What was foolish.

The truth was that the sensation of poetry, romance and magic that surrounded you two throughout the dance, had evaporated from the air like mist in the sun. Now the sure that you two weren't meant to be together hung in the air like a black cloud, thundering and flashing. This feeling oppressed you with an overwhelming force, so tangible it was possible to cut it with a razor.

No words needed to be said, but it was stamped into the environment, filling every millimeter and gap, putting that magical dance into a category that would never go beyond that: a dance.

A feeling of melancholy jabbed your throat like a scorpion's sting, injecting an emotion of sadness and helplessness into your blood like distilled poison. You didn't want that to be the end. You didn't want to say goodbye. Even with everything in the air indicating that whatever existed between the two of you, ended here, now.

Five's eyes seemed to exude the same as you. Feeling the end heavy and resounding in the air, reverberating like thunder, as every corner of his soul roared the opposite. The green sea of his irises looked like it was in the middle of a storm. Full of pain, anger. With colossal waves and revolts, which promised to destroy everything they saw ahead. Just like the oceans did in the apocalyptic events in the era of Younger Dryas.

Somehow, without having to utter a single sentence, you both knew you were feeling the same thing. Wishing, with all their might, that this wasn't the end, that they were able to hold time against their chest in a tight, desperate embrace, an attempt to freeze the pointers.

At that moment, Five clamored, to any god who would listen, that you not be taken from his arms.

However, like the evil joke that was his life, his thoughts were cut short by the chiming of the clock. 11 chimes. That echoed in his soul like the trumpets of hell, laughing at him, mocking him, making fun of a murderer thinking he would be graced with something like you.

Five Hargreeves was a villain. And he was destined to have the things villains deserve. And none of this things included someone like you.

In that sadistic moment, Five finally understood a sentence from one of the books Grace read to them at night; ‘If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.’

Yes. Now he understood. Five Hargreeves leaned in, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that, however much it was impeded by the muslin layer of your glove, he prayed that this kiss could transmit all the feelings he could never say. This are the only kiss he could give you. That sentence echoed in his head like a fact, as sure as the sky is blue, as true as the salt in the oceans.

And when he went to the core of hell, paying for all his sins, he would brag to the other demons that he had been to heaven without ever having entered it.

You wish you'd said something, asked where he was from, stopped him from going. But none of that happened. This was one of those moments that we regret forever, that are branded in a red-hot iron in the soul, in the mind, in the body. Everything inside you was screaming to go after him when Five turned arund and walked into the sea of guests. But he disappeared in the waves before you could even move your feet.

No one had to tell you, but you knew you'd never see him again. And your heart would never beat for another.

-----------

Five Hargreeves has had to do a lot of horrible things over the years. Actions he wasn't proud of but he knew needed to be done, nights awash in blood and the smell of death.

But nothing has wobble him as much as you have.

His soul, body and mind, trained since he was a child not to develop any weakness that would prevent him from being a perfect hero, then perfected and aggravated by the Commission to be the unbeatable assassin, were rarely stirred by feelings.

He was cynical, hard-nosed, crotchety and arrogant. He never got carried away by emotions and, as much as his desire to save his family is pure, he will cross any ethical lines for the greater good. And all of that made him the Commission's best weapon.

Until now.

Until his emotions messed up not just one, but thousands of timelines. Created catastrophes, formed apocalypses, killed people. Hargreeves meeting you was something that could never have happened. Repudiated not just by nature but by the gods. Having you in his arms was like a crime against the timeline, against the balance of the world.

And heavens and hells would make him pay. With work, blood, or his heart. Promising to take not only the soul, but any hope of laying eyes on you once again. As Icarus had his downfall for the sun, so Hargreeves had for you. In a triumphal ruin.

“Do you have any idea what you caused ?!” It was the first thing The Handler said as soon as Five returned from his mission, seconds after he had killed his target.

Her voice was loud, suffused with anger and rage and… despair. Five frowned, soul still aching from having to leave you, your warmth still in his arms. He didn't have the head to deal with her right now. Not when he had so much to process.

“A death.”

“Don't play smart on me!” Her roar was loud enough for Hargreeves to realize that something really serious was going on. The Handler was many things, but she never got worked up without good reason.

The clatter of her heels echoed through the room as she walked towards him, her eyes full of fierce emotion.

“You had only one job to do! One! Kill the man and get out of there. Like always!" Her voice was as rough as desert sand. “But not only did you mess up entire timelines, but created apocalypses on thousands of worlds that were to happen only thousands of years later!"

Five's mind was racing like a Catarina wheel, spinning at full throttle as it tried to put the pieces together. He blinked once, twice, his heart starting to race with the feeling that something devastating was about to be revealed.

He looked at The Handler, who understood his look. "That's right! Your little feat of dancing with that girl shattered thousands of timelines! People were killed, disappeared, events took a completely different course because of your little impertinence!"

She pulled his arm towards the thousands of screens that monitored infinite realities. And what he saw was chaos. Pure and perfect. Some worlds succumbed to fire, others to water, others to war. But they had devastation as a resemblance.

Five can hear the voices of other Commission workers in the background, in another corridor, other rooms. Some sounded desperate, others irritated, and others helpless, but all seemed concerned. He couldn't even say that he didn't know that little things had chain reactions. Because he knew. There was nothing to justify his actions, for he didn't even have a good reason for himself.

But the truth was, even staring the apocalypse in the face across nine different monitors, he felt no…remorse. There wasn't a part of him that would have done differently, that wouldn't have touched you, that wouldn't have known you. Deep in his soul Hargreeves knew he didn't care how many worlds he had destroyed just by touching you. He was going to hell anyway, it was better to have a memory of you to remember for eternity.

"...we'll have to kill her." It was just that sentence that Five's messed up mind paid attention to.

Then everything stopped.

The weather, the conversations. The world seemed to have held their breath, suspended, staring at Five. Everything inside him fell silent into scary silence, and he turned slowly toward The Handler, all his senses heightened, heart still, mind clear.

She seemed to notice his state. "What did you expect?! You know how things work. Causers of apocalypse get killed, that's our job! And because of that dance of yours, this girl has caused nine different apocalypses.”

There was a kind of insane, evil logic to the situation. The last riddle of gods and life to see Five Hargreeves on his knees. Broken, empty. To punish his sins, taking from him what he took from so many people. They engineered his downfall perfectly, writing with a red-hot iron on his soul the sentence that he could never be happy. His curse, the price to pay. Cosmic fit.

What the fucking hell.

“I'll send some agent to kill her immediately and...”

But Five Hargreeves has never been one to accept sentences imposed on him with his head down. Limitations, rules. He made his own destiny, no matter what he told him, and lived with the consequences. No god, destiny or universe dictated his life.

Everything inside him roared like a beast. Exploding, bursting, sending any control flying away. In an action without any hesitation, delicacy or ambiguities, his hand closed on The Handler's arm. In a firm, strong, tense grip that started hurt her very soon.

She looked at him in a mixture of shock and annoyance. There were very few people in the world willing to face a woman on her level, some too fearful, others who value life too much. But Five Hargreeves was none of those things. He'd never known any predator he should fear, everyone knew he was capable of anything and everything. Maybe there was no line he was able from crossing, or plan he wasn't capable of executing.

Five Hargreeves was the predator she should fear.

And The Handler realized that. For in that pair of eyes she saw danger, rage, pure and perfect hate. His sea of green gave way to red, glittering waves, shining with all the blood he had already spilled. And with a warning that he wouldn't mind spilling more.

“Stay. away. from. her. ” he guided each word with a tighter grip on her delicate arm, sure to leave marks that won't go away anytime soon.

Bewildered, she looked at him like a man possessed, filled with a rage that could fuel hell all by itself. The Handler had never seen him in that state, he was always angry, annoyed, acidic, but that… that was hatred, a bloodthirsty hate.

Five Hargreeves promised to go to hell and drag anyone with him without saying a word.

For the first time in her life, The Handler was afraid.

“Five...you know her need to die...”

"Listen to me" He vociferate, shaking her by the arm. “I don't give a fuck what you have to say. I swear, for all that exists in this world, that if you lay one finger on her, there will be nowhere on earth you can fuck hide from me.”

Five Hargreeves was a tall, masculine man, wrapped in a macabre and sinister aura when he wanted to. He pulled The Handler closer, his face filled with colossal rage being etched like a tattoo into her soul.

“I don't give a fuck about how many worlds are ending, I don't give a fuck if fucking people are dying! You won't touch her until the day I'm dead! And you can bet that, even seven feet under the ground, I'll find a way to take you with me to hell if you do fucking something to her."

You were untouchable.

All of his work on The Commission was about killing a number of people to save even more. But he would never, ever, sacrifice you for the greater good. Not even if it meant millions of dead people.

It didn't matter as long as you weren't one of the dead.

Without waiting for further discussion, he led The Handler towards the exit door, leading her out of the room and locking the door when he returned. Five wasn't stupid or naive to think that she would follow his orders. The handler might be afraid of him, but she knew how to get what she wanted, no matter how long it took. And now that he'd bruised her ego, Five knew she'd make it her primary mission to kill you.

Something he would never let happen.

If someone asked where so much anger, so much sense of protection came from, Five Hargreeves couldn't say. Because he didn't even know. In the same way that he still didn't understand everything that had happened, everything that he had been feeling, he still hadn't reasoned where such primitive, territorialist impulses came from. He had no idea where it all came from, but he was sure he could never let anything bad happen to you.

In a twisted and somewhat obscure way, you had gained a villain as a protector. A fallen angel who didn't promise to do good to people, but only to you. Who swore allegiance not to humanity, but solemnly, exclusively, to you.

It was a sensation that filled his entire body like boiling lava. And Five put his hand in the fire for the certainty that he would never be able to get rid of his feelings for you again.

His soul said that, as long as he was alive, he would be yours.

Making his mind work faster than it ever had before, Five Hargreeves concluded that every record of you had to go. There could no longer be documents proving that you were part of humanity. That once you had a name, a house, a reality. Five would have to erase you from any and all records. Forever. The only way to keep you out of the hands of the people who had access to every form of terrestrial existence, was to erase you from the world. Only then, hidden from the Commission, could you live happily. Fully.

But throwing all your documents away was signing the sentence that he was took the risk of never getting to see you again. Without them, finding someone was nearly impossible, much less accessing their reality. Five could start a calculation to find you one day, but that could take years, ages, and even if he memorized your documents number by number, did the calculations and managed to get to you without any side effects, The Commission could follow him and find you.

And finding a civilian's documents was much easier than finding a special agent like him and throwing them away too.

Once again, his life was a cruel joke of the gods, which served as entertainment for any higher power. Five strongly believed that, if there was anything above or below him, they designed his life for they own amusement.

Five Hargreeves spent hours in the file room, locked in that cubicle, not letting anyone in, not getting out. Once he disappeared with your documents, he would be declared a traitor and deserter, where his punishment would not only be more years of work, but death.

The world was spinning. Head ached. A sound gnawed at his mind, a scratch without melody, like a rustle of paper. Someone had taken a scream, a memory and a fear, crumpled it into a jagged ball, and used it to stuff Five's skull. He need to think of a plan that covered all the rough edges, but his eyes were bombarded with futures he didn't want to think about. Every time he blinked he felt the tragedy lurking in a dark and dismal corner, ready to catch him in their sharp mouths and take him somewhere he feared to go.

A place where the worst had happened to you.

Suddenly, the world was filled with secrets, fears and terror. Just as his soul took control of him in that night, it was the same in this moment. Five Hargreeves wasn't someone to get carried away by anything, but the feeling that something very bad was about to happen to you haunted him to the bone. That would be the perfect ending to his sinful life story; having the one person who touched his feelings so powerfully killed in the same way he killed so many other people.

Life was taking its toll on all the things he had done. For a second, he was afraid of that reckoning. Because the worst is not the bullet hitting yourself, but someone you like.

The feeling outside of being torn apart. All the patches and pieces of what it was to be Five Hargreeves - which he had been painstakingly piecing together throughout his life - were coming loose again, all at once. The clock was ticking, the hours were ticking, and he knew that just as he was coming up with a plan, so was The Handler.

It was a macabre race against time, in which if he lost, he had the feeling he would never fully recover. Not without a part of his soul dying along with you.

When he found your documents, the photo they had of you was a portrait made in that last century, a small painting of your face, eternalizing your smile. Suddenly, the memory of how you'd smiled at him like that gripped him like a demon. And when the memories of you intensified, they brought no comfort, just only fear and dread. Five Hargreeves could not live with himself if those memories were tainted by the knowledge that he was the cause of his tragedy. He would never be able to remember those tender moments again if memories of you were vandalized by images of how you were killed.

It was too late to remedy the consequences of what he had unleashed. The macabre possibilities of what The Handler could do to you were there, tattooed on his brain, as if they would snap open and bolt to reality at any moment. So, as panic rose, Five Hargreeves' mind slammed shut like a heavy book. He wouldn't let any of that happen. Never.

After scheming and checking all the plans in his mind, Five decided that he had already orchestrated the almost perfect scheme. He would destroy all of your documents and, when he had done that, he could no longer remain on the Commission. Thus, he would steal the mission from one of the agents about killing John F. Kennedy, the time that most closely matched his calculations to return to the family in 2019. Then Five Hargreeves would evade The Commission and deal with them without being an employee anymore. And even if they went after him, they would never find you.

Not even Five.

And so it was done.

-----------

Five Hargreeves went through the reunion with his family, faced the commission agents coming after him to kill him, dealt with The Handler and put up with his siblings drama.

In a matter of weeks, he had already gotten himself into so much trouble and confusion that sometimes he didn't even have time to breathe. Processing events and digesting them had become a luxury he no longer had, and saving the world from one apocalypse and falling into another had seemed to become a family pastime.

But there were nights. Cold, when the moon reached its apex in the sky and the rain poured down on the ground, when he was finally able to be alone and clear his mind. In those rare moments, the only thing on his mind was you.

Always you.

His point of peace, his refuge from his constant stress and pressure was in the images of you. In the way your body fit perfectly in his hands, in the way your gaze, enchanted and completely shining, did not leave his. Five Hargreeves felt that, like him at that moment, there was no other place you would rather be.

Twenty years could go by, but he would still feel what it was like to have your warmth in his arms, in the smell that your perfume exhaled and in the way the candles in the candelabra glowed on your skin. You were like a goddess, dancing at that ball as if the world would never be graced with such beauty again.

When Five Hargreeves closed his eyes, he could see you perfectly. Swirling around as if the ground were your clouds and everyone there were mere mortals, watching what the angels in heaven looked like.

It was like a dark paradise. He managed to slake some of that suffocating tightness in his chest whenever he returned to those memories, but it resulted in more flagellations in his poor, tortured soul. The notion that he would never have anything but memories, dreams, and mowed wishes, would skin him alive until his last days. Five would forever be haunted by the notion that, even when he died, you wouldn't be waiting on the other side.

You would be in heaven. And he belonged in hell.

But, it was worth it.

All the pain, all the desperation his soul struggled with, all the shortness of breath that coiled in his lungs, all the feeling of being stabbed with a dagger knowing his would never lay hands on you again, it was all worth it when he reviewed your face in his memories.

Five Hargreeves didn't clamored for relief from his pain, balm for the cuts deep in his soul, a minute's mercy. No, he accepted all of his fate with his head held high. He clamored for you to be okay. Safe, happy. Free from any worries or tribulations. He wished you had forgotten about him, erased that night from your blood, because it would be impossible to live if he knew you were suffering just like him.

Five Hargreeves had never given you a single kiss, tucked your hair in his fingers and tasted your tongue, but he didn't need it. His soul didn't need that to fall madly in love with you.

Yes, pure and perfect passion. It was the only logical explanation for how he felt about you.

Even though he never tasted your skin in his mouth, or touched you without the interference of a piece of clothing, Five Hargreeves was in love with you.

And it would be for the rest of his life.

-----------

All the Hargreeves siblings thought all was well when the Commission was defeated and they got a briefcase to take them back at home. The nightmare of the second apocalypse had already passed and now the feeling that invaded their bodies was one of relief. For a second, Klaus thought that everything would now be back on track; with the family together, stronger ties and improved relationships.

Everyone thought so, actually.

The shimmering blue flash engulfed all the brothers, passing through the barriers of space and time, leaving the Hargreeves in the mansion where they grew up and spent most of their lives. Everyone looked happy, relaxed. And Five also shared the same relief.

Until that fateful moment.

Until a draft of wind enter through the window behind him and hitting his back, bringing a feeling that immediately made every hair on his body stand on end. In a matter of seconds, all sense of relief, calm, and peace were shattered, exploding one by one with the same aggressiveness of a nuclear bomb. The world seemed to stumble and stoped, the colors of the hemisphere fluidized into a vintage orange, flickering, almost as if the lighting came from candles.

As much as his siblings were laughing and making noises, everything for Five was quiet, in a tacit silence. The sound of cars on the streets did not exist anymore, the conversations disappeared, and, little by little, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. Increasing in tempo gradually, like a soundtrack.

Then, in the apex of silence, when Five could already hear the blood rushing through his veins, he listened.

Five.

Your voice in the wind, almost like a whisper. Calling for him. Just like you did a long time ago.

His soul gave a scream that shook him to the very bones, and he didn't notice when his eyes widened and his breath hitched. Suddenly, his whole body came back to life, being pulled sharply from the bottom of the ocean, submerging, desperately, breathless, astonished. Abruptly, the heat returned to his hands, to his cheeks, to his heart. Five could feel warmth coursing through his body as if they had rekindled the flame of his soul.

Was like resurrect.

He looked back in one jerk, spinning in place, heart pounding in his ribcage, his frantic, frantic eyes darting around every corner.

Nothing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Klaus looked back, focusing on his brother, but Five didn't respond.

He walked past Klaus as if he couldn't hear him, his eyes and hands trembling visibly, his step tight. Five chased the wind current as if he were chased his life, oblivious to anything or anyone.

His siblings, finding the situation strange, followed him without hesitation, accompanying the owner with green eyes entering more in the house. They had no idea what to expect, or what to think, but they stopped behind Five as he froze in the middle of the living room, eyes petrified, wide, fixed on a very specific spot at the top of the stairs.

But nobody noticed what he saw.

While all the Hargreeves were taken aback by Reginald's appearance in the outer corner of the room, stunned and petrified, growing more and more stunned as their father went on to explain the situation, Five couldn't take his eyes off the top of the stairs. Nothing in the world would have made him look elsewhere.

You.

Fucking hell...you.

There, standing next to people he didn't care to find out who they were, looking down, observing at the people who had just entered.

Suddenly, everything inside him was whipped by currents of electricity, as if he'd been struck by lightning. An argument seemed to be brewing in the background, but Five Hargreeves didn't fucking care. May the world explode, may everything end up in dust, fire or water. He didn't want to know.

You were there. With the sunlight coming through the large windows behind your back, and illuminating your silhouette as if you were a deity, a goddess, a muse. You shone. Like the gates of heaven. At that moment, the soul of Five Hargreeves fell to his knees in front of you. For you.

An extremely strong emotion invaded him without asking permission, destroying everything he once was. Five felt like crying.

As a war in the background unfolded, the people who were beside you started to descend the stairs one by one. But he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Five. Five.” Luther seemed to call out to him in the background, but he didn't care.

You walked down the steps the same way you glided through that ballroom, as if the floor were your clouds. Yours robes were uniform this time, but Five was pretty sure that behind that high collar, your skin harbored a birthmark on your collarbone. Your hair was down, but he knew how you looked with your strands tied up.

With each step you took, more his pulse quickened. It was like a dream, a mirage, his oasis in the scorching desert. At some point in the battle against the Commission he had died, and that was his dream.

However, Luther's hand gripped his arm, forcing his green eyes to meet his brother's.

“Dude, what's wrong with you? Didn't you hear dad saying that we're in another reality?”

“I am not your father.” Reginald countered. “Not in this reality.”

Five frowned, rationality slowly returning to his body, his brain taking over once more. A parallel reality. That explained a lot. A reality where…you existed.

Holy shit.

Someone said the Hargreeves had better go, and Five would have laughed out loud if he hadn't submerged in thoughts. If they really was in a parallel reality, that meant you didn't remember him. You didn't even know him. The version who have danced with him was still in another century, in a timeline far, far away.

But…Five looked up. You radiated the same beauty of the romantic period as before, your skin still looked feather soft, your lips still where able to take away his complete self-control, your eyes still have… the same glow that he remembered so many times during so many nights.

You didn't know him, but that didn't matter. Because Five knew you.

He suffered the worst of martyrdoms all this time, and now that he'd finally, finally found you once more, he wasn't going to leave. Even if it meant having to make you fall in love with him all over again. In fact, Five Hargreeves would dedicate his entire lives to making you fall in love with him all over again in every reality there is. He would have as many times as necessary a first dance with you.

He didn't realize it, but his lips lifted in a smile. In a snap of fingers, everything reached a apex, higher than the buildings, higher even to the clouds. All the problems evaporated like mist in the sun, and being in a parallel reality, with a father that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in, seemed to be extremely insignificant.

For the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was happy. And nothing would change that.

That's when, amidst all the arguing the Hargreeves and Sparrows were having around, your eyes met his. And for him it was like coming home after an excruciating winter.

You cocked your head slightly to the side, intrigued by the way that man was looking at you so…surrendered. You understood the gravity of the situation, of those strangers breaking into your home and trying to claim everything as theirs. You were also irritated just like your siblings.

But... when you looked at that man… with eyes so green and hair so dark, something inside you caught your breath. A shiver went up your spine. And maybe you were crazy, but you can swear that felt your soul heave a sigh of…relief. A strange, emotional feeling reverberated through your spirit as if…somehow you'd just found what you've spent so long waiting to met again.

It don’t make sense.

As the confrontation unfolded between the two families, you couldn't help but notice that, minute by minute, you found yourself wanting to look at this man more. As if it were never going to be enough, as if the second you turned your head, you were overcome with an insane urge to see more. You should be focused on trying to get those strangers out of your house, not admiring one of them.

But Five realized that. A spark inside him vibrated with hope, and he delighted in being able to relive the feeling of what it was like to be looked at by you again.

But before he or you could even do anything, the physical feud between the two families broke out with astonishing speed, spreading like the plague. Diego, as usual, was the first to go into battle, followed by Luther and Allison.

See, you didn't consider yourself a confrontational person. Your peculiarity was to manipulate the natural elements and, although that made you one of the strongest figures among your siblings, you had a more adventurous spirit than a fighter. There was no such homeric thirst in your blood to be the best, the strongest, the most brutal. Ben said that was the most unattractive thing about you, but Sloane saw this feature with good eyes. Like you, she wasn't much inclined to brutality.

The fight drove you and Five away from each other, separated by rooms, siblings and war. You saw your family appeal to brute aggression very quickly, while, if you're honest, you didn't want to hurt anyone. Is trut that you were irritated by the way they claimed your house as theirs, but you didn't think they were bad people.

Or all this bland resolutions were for the fact that you didn't want to hurt him. Because, in some way you couldn't explain, you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

But that's when Alphonso yelled at you from upstairs. “Y/N! Do fucking something too!”

Everyone was scattered around the house, but you still remained downstairs, in the living room, arranging a way to help without being very aggressive like your siblings were being. You had no intention of killing or seriously injuring them, but you also weren't willing to put up with the scolding your brothers would give you if you continued to be omitte.

So, when one of the strangers came running to get away from something, the tail of his dark overcoat dancing in the air and his black hat toppling along the path, your reaction was to do the one thing that couldn't seem to do any real damage. In a wave of the hand, the windows were shattered by large, sprawling tree roots, that came out of the garden earth like thick snakes and entered the house in a steady stream.

The man gave a high-pitched scream, but his feet were already entwined by the roots and he was knocked to the ground. The roots, which spilled earth over the floor and exhaled a forest smell, wrapped themselves around the man's body up to his chest, with the only purpose of immobilizing him.

You weren't putting force or brutality, and you were sure the roots were just putting considerable pressure on, like a bandage around an injured arm. But the man didn't seem to notice this, because he kept screaming.

The fear should still be clouding his senses, and you revealed the situation. For it wasn't often that someone was wrapped around by giant roots that moved of their own accord. In your place, you would have reacted that way too.

“Hey, hey” you tried to get closer “It's ok, they won't hurt you and…”

But your speech was interrupted by shrill hum, which cut through the air with force and passed like a bullet in front of your face, shaking a few locks of your hair. The speed were frightening, and for a second your heart stopped in your chest. The fright made you take two steps back immediately, but in a matter of seconds any feeling was replaced by a very strong burning in your left cheek. In the same second, a hot liquid began to ooze from your injured skin like water in a current, spreading pain wherever went.

Two seconds that were able to put you face to face with death. Because that attack was not joking.

The bearded man ran to help the one who was lying on the ground, forcing his freedom between the roots that were now weak due to your distraction.

Unlike you, Diego didn't care about the things he had to do to save his family. He was willing to injure, inflict permanent damage, even killing if that was the only way out. He would have a guilty conscience later, but in the heat of the moment, he wouldn't hesitate. Diego did this to the Commission agents hours ago, and he would do this to you if he had to. As sure as the sky was blue, the Sparrows were the enemy. And he was the hero. Thats it. Two polar opposites, destined to face each other into the death.

And that was why he didn't hesitate to attack when he saw Klaus lying on the floor, screaming as if he were being killed. After getting a small taste of the kind of things your powers were capable of doing, it was pretty clear that you were one of the first ones that needed to go down. So Diego didn't hesitate either when he pulled Klaus off the ground, and wielded yet another dagger. Aiming not to hurt, but to kill.

But love could drive even the smartest minds crazy.

Because when the dagger was thrown in the air, a blue flash invaded the scene and a male body enveloped yours, pushing both of you aside in a rough, protective, intense gesture.

Five Hargreeves was on the stair railing, fighting Jayme, when Klaus's screams grab his attention. He didn't have much time to process what he was seeing, but the moment one of Diego's daggers slashed across your cheek, the primal, visceral instinct he'd felt so long ago, with The Handler on The Commission, roared through him like an angry beast. So when another dagger was wielded and thrown into the air, he didn't think twice, didn't hesitate, didn't blink.

Dropping everything behind, Five Hargreeves dove into the blue flash, having you as the only focus in mind.

As soon as the crash of his body with yours caused you both to leave the deadly path, the arms, masculine and wide, wrapped around your back as if he were holding the only anchorage on the high seas in the middle of a storm. His heart was pounding in his chest, and as much that adrenaline, primal instinct and rage were bubbling through his body, he still managed to feel his soul sighing in deep relief when felt your warmth again in his arms.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

Diego's angry roar seemed to shake the walls, but didn't stop the obstinate, angry look that swallowed Five's expression.

“Diego…” his voice didn't match the situation the Hargreeves found themselves in. His tone was serious, steady, so calm it was terrifying, like the warning of darkness to the light. “Stay away from her.”

His brother's confused and perplexed look couldn't have been more accentuated. And even Klaus, known for being the least serious about situations, looked completely astonished. Five Hargreeves didn't held you like he was preventing a murder. No. He held you like Cerberus should have held the only person he was ever loyal to.

"You are fucking crazy?!" Diego gestured with his hands “Let go the enemy now!”

The Hargreeves have been through a lot, seen a lot. Many of them being absurd, beyond any rationality or law of physics, moments in which they had to deal with situations that were not possible to be of this world. But nothing, and no one, could have prepared Diego and Klaus for what they heard from Five;

"Never."

The moment was dispersed when Viktor appeared in the room, shaking, hurt, out of his mind. His head fell back in a single gesture, his arms opened up and the fists closed, as white lights began to shoot out from within his eyes and chest.

Five Hargreeves knew what that meant.

He didn't think twice before running to the side, hiding you behind the bar counter and lowering you two bodies to the floor. His body in front of yours, blocking access to the roughest impact in you.

You two had three seconds, three seconds to look into each other's eyes before the flash explodes. And in that three seconds, the only thing that passed in the soul of both of you was the feeling of finally being where should be.

-----------

"They're stupid villains who think they're smart!" Ben was furious in the kitchen, pacing back and forth.

The last few days had passed like this. With Ben angry about the invasion, Ben angry about the fight, Ben angry about Marcus disappearing, Ben angry about... well... he was always angry.

Of all your siblings, he had the worst temper. Fei and Christopher were practically his dogs, going along with all of Ben's stupid plans just because... you really didn't know why they followed him so fervently, but had a theory that it was because they both thought they would have more power when Ben's plans came to fruition.

A hierarchical system that filled the family with toxicity.

On the other hand, there were Jayme and Alphonso. You never really understood the two, but you described them as bullies. A duo who liked the power they had and how they managed to exert it over people.

The only one you could relate to more deeply was Sloane.

"It would have been better if Y/n had made an attack." Alphonso brought your name up in conversation, his gaze full of rancor.

"Fuck off, asshole" It was the only thing you deigned to say, because you didn't have the patience to deal with his comments at the time.

The truth is, since the invasion, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

It was like a drug, an addiction, that had seeped into your blood from the first time you laid eyes on him. There was something there, something you could never explain. He should be the enemy. Your enemy. But…

The way he saved you from the knives, the way his arms wrapped around you. Almost like he already knows how to hold you. How to protect you.

Your heart couldn't slow down whenever your thoughts returned to that man. From the memory of him placing his body in front of you, standing at the forefront of the explosion.

He saved you. Everytime. And there was something that told you he would save you every chance he got.

The truth was…you wanted to see him. Know his name. Talk with him. There was no longer a fiber of your being that saw the situation as your siblingsdid, your body was facing the complete opposite north.

You wanted to touch him, not fight with him.

When time passed, and Luther showed up at the mansion as someone who was kidnapped, you, again, did not see the situation as a beneficial opportunity for your family. But for you.

Suddenly, your entire soul was gripped by a completely unsettling anxiety that made your hands itch, stomach churn, and your legs unable to stay still. Then you were swept by a feeling of deep sadness, as if you'd already experienced what it was like to spend your whole life wanting to see that man and never getting.

There was no more logic, rationality or coherence to what you were feeling, but finding him was as indispensable as breathing.

That's why you volunteered - more like an imposition - that you would be the one to escort Luther home the moment Ben said he could leave.

“It was kind of you to accompany me” The blond man smiled at you, as the two of you walked through the night streets.

"It was nothing." You tried to sound casual, but with every step toward your destination, the more your hands itched, the more your heart was racing, and in a moment, you found yourself picking up the pace to get there faster.

“I have to confess that you were a topic of discussion between my brothers.” Luther laughed, his odd way of bringing up the subject and not mincing words.

But that got your attention. "What do you mean?"

“A-ahem…well…from what I understand, Diego wanted to kill you, but Five stopped him and…”

Five…Five

His name was Five.

Something inside you stirred. An unfamiliar emotion, but one that made a smile rise to yourcheeks.

“Five” you tried to say aloud, and his name just… felt right on your lips.

You went the rest of the way not being able to pay attention to a single syllable Luther was saying. You don't wanted to be rude, but you just… couldn't stop thinking about Five.

“How long before we get there?” you cut off something Luther was saying about Sloane, and the blond eyebrows drawing together in strangeness.

“Actually” he looked at the big hotel in front of him “We already arrived and…”

But you couldn't stop yourself. All of your muscles felt like they had undergone countless electrical discharges, your heart was faster than any living soul has ever been, and your blood was rushing through your veins like marathon runners. You increased your pace considerably, quickly climbing the steps and opening the doors of that building as if you had just walked through the gates of paradise.

You needed to see him.

Luther came up behind you, giving you a suspicious look and walking towards a bar, where the outlines of several people were talking.

-----------

"I returned." Luther's voice brought Five out of his thoughts, and a part of her brain tried to remember the time his brother had left.

And he didn't find any answers.

To his defence, Five's mind had been elsewhere these days. Moments when he rewound in his mind once, twice, three times. Not even the impending new apocalypse knocking on the door seemed to have any effect on Five. To be honest, he… saw no point in trying to save the world this time. Meeting you once was a miracle, but meeting you again, in an entirely different reality and without The Commission making things difficult, seemed like too much of a luxury for him to ignore.

The truth was that in the first attempt to escape the apocalypse he ended up sending the family to different times, with intervals of years between each one. And, deep down, he didn't know if he could handle trying to take you with him to another reality and end up losing you too.

Five had been through this once before. He knew pain too well not to be willing to risk it.

“What is the enemy doing here?!"

Diego's voice snapped Five out of his thoughts, and an electric current shot through his head and reverberated down to his toes. Immediately, without any hesitation, his eyes flew away, finding not just Luther - whit several bags in hand - but you beside him.

You.

Something inside him ignited, his heart raced and, for a moment, the whole world around him fell away.

But just for a moment, because Diego was already getting up from his seat.

“Hey. Hey!” Five teleported away, once again placing the body in front of you . “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“What would anyone do to the enemy! What are you doing? Defending a stranger again?!"

“She is not a stranger, Diego. Now be quiet in your place before I have to do it for you.”

"She is not?" Klaus and Viktor said in unison

"I'm not?" Your voice, the only one that mattered to him, came from behind his back, quieter than the others but loud enough for him to hear.

Five turned towards you, turning his back on his siblings. Unlike how he looked at Diego, his eyes held all the softness and attention in the world when they met yours. A small smile appeared at the corner of his left mouth, a secret smile, hidden from the world but revealed only to you.

"It's a long story," he admitted, having no idea how to start. How to tell something that even to him don't make sense.

“I came to see you.” you rewarded his honesty with another truth, a gleam crossing his eyes like shooting stars. “I have time to listen.”

A smile blossomed on his lips, and Five was overcome by the purest feeling of happiness. Without saying anything, or giving anyone satisfaction, his hand laced into yours, and he disappeared with you in the blue flash.

-----------

Any sensible, practical, centered woman, would have laughed at what Five had just told you. Anyone who didn't get carried away by matters of the heart and didn't believe that two people, when destined to be together, are helped even by the wind, would have turned around and walked away.

But you weren't a sensible woman, nor practical, much less centered. Your being was composed of romance, adventure and magic. You fervently believed in destiny, soulmates and that some loves are capable of overcoming the barrier of space and time.

What's more, if all that wasn't enough, you also felt, from your soul to your bones, sensations that couldn't be explained. Feelings he was also saying he felt too. You believed in him. And that fact came as soft as the droplets of dew, as the brightness of the moon.

After his account came to end, with him letting himself be vulnerable in telling all the thoughts that ever crossed his mind about you, the urge to say just one thing screamed your blood rumbling. “You’re no the villain in my story” your words hung in the air.

“I am,” Five's voice brimmed with a liquid honesty that was able to chill your bones, but nothing in his words hinted at remorse for the things he'd already done. “But i'll be the villain for you. Not to you. I'll let worlds burn again if it means keeping you alive. In a problematic way, that I'll never be able to explain, I don't feel guilty about doing something if it means your safety.”

Five Hargreeves expected many things. Many different reactions. Many words of contradiction. But never what happened next.

Your mouth, without any hesitation, joined his in a kiss that was capable of making his world explode. His body was ignited by a fire that swallowed even his soul, washing away all his sins and giving a demon a taste of heaven.

So what was it like to kiss a goddess? An angel, a muse.

If before, without even touching your skin without the interference of clothing, Five would have happily accepted going to hell, now, with your hot mouth melting into his like warm honey, he would accept the torture of eternal fire with a smile on his face.

And when the small kiss intensified into something much bigger, his hands, warm and masculine, wrapped possessively around your waist. There was no going back. There was no turning back. Five would keep you for himself in the same selfishness that a villain steals a princess. And there was no hero in the world capable of pulling you away of his clutches.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He found the last bit of strength to let you know when your hands untied his tie “I could really hurt you.”

But all good intentions evaporated when your eyes, eager and full of desire, blinked at him. There was an addictive sweetness in that look. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your eyes held tinges of delicious submission but hid an incendiary fire behind them.

Fucking damn. He wanted you so badly.

"I don't care." Your breathless whisper invaded the room. But he didn't know if you understood the seriousness of the situation.

“Y/n.” his hands cupped your face. “I spent a lot of time contenting just for the way you looked at me. Spending sleepless nights reliving what it was like to feel the contour of your waist in my hand.” His voice was serious, deep, rough like sand scraping against stone. “Do you have any idea of the things I'm going to do to you now that I can finally, finally, have you?” his pitch lowered a few notes, like a predator talking to its prey.

You didn't know it, but only imagination made yours thighs tighten.

“I can destroy you.” his lips went to the foot of your ear, down to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent and tasting you. “I can leave your body purple, your breasts bitten, your hips marked by the aggressiveness of mine whenever I enter on you.”

A moan escaped your mouth, fingers tightening on his arms, head lolling to the side.

Oh lord, please he do that.

Five's hands went up to your shoulders, in a touch that became more and more possessive, gluttonous, as if he wanted to swallow you.

“I can spend hours fucking you.” his fingers lowered the straps of your dress, letting the fabric fall unceremoniously to the floor. Five pulled his face away enough to be able to look at your body fully, and a husky growl followed right away. “I can kill you.”

Here, in that moment, Five Hargreeves was giving you one last chance to give up, to make him tame the villain he was and who would destroy you for any other man.

If you slept with Five Hargreeves, you would never stop being his.

"Do it." but you didn't have an ounce of self-preservation in the inner body "please."

You didn't have to beg twice. His hands pulled your legs up, making you place your feet on his hips and hug him with your legs. Your back hit the closed bedroom door as Hargreeves' mouth claimed all it could of his. Twisting your tongue around his, biting and sucking on your bottom lip, he was beginning to mark you as his in a single kiss.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” his confession was more of a hoarse groan, hands fumbling with his belt and lowering the waistband of his pants.

Under other circumstances, he would have sucked you until drive you unconscious, pushing your walls with his fingers until you begged for his cock. But he didn't have the presence of mind to do that now. Not now. Not today. He warned of the consequences of wanting to continue at that moment. But you wanted, you begged, and now he was no longer afraid of being able to fuck you with all the vehemence he needed.

Your moans invaded the room very quickly, your waist, even if limited by the door, moved in his groin, exorcising any common sense and control that Five once had.

He pushed your panties to the side impolitely and entered you in one single, glorious, primal thrust. His cock slid in with extreme ease, being completely soaked by the way your pussy was so slick.

“Oh fucking hell” his growl sent even more waves of pleasure to your uterus, and you pressed your mouth to his neck to keep from screaming.

That's when he withdrew and pushed himself into you. Strong, brute. Hitting until found the bottom of the well. His thrusts began relentlessly, thrusting in and out of you aggressively, possessively, almost animalistic. Five's hands were all over yourbody, fingerprinting every bit of your flesh. The nails digging into your waist when you contracted and squeezed him within your plush walls.

“Fuck. fuck.” his groans mingled with the attrition of the bodies of you two against the door, which sent loud, telltale noises throughout the hotel.

But you would rather die than stop.

His cock suddenly hit a place that made your moans come out too loud. Tears began to pool in the corner of your eyes, and your toes curled.

“Oh do you feel this, baby?” Five teased you, digging himself as deep as possible anatomically and rubbing the tip of his cock there, eliciting sly, desperate cries from you "That's your cervix."

Then he went back to fucking you aggressively, this time pulling his chest away from you and digging his hands hard into the flesh of your hips, pulling you towards him at a intensity that could only be described as animalistic.

This was better than anything he had ever tasted in his life. Better than any sin. Better than any whiskey.

His cock desecrated your pussy like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, pulling thick liquids out of you that enveloped him in pasty white rings. Five Hargreeves would ensure that whenever you thought of any man, your mind was invaded by the way he fucked you.

"I will… I will…" your tearful voice blended with the noise of the door slamming and your bodies bumping into each other.

“Thats right, baby” his mouth covered your “cum for me. cum so I can fill that gluttonous pussy with my cum.”

If the way he thrust in and out of you wasn't enough to make you come, his lines had done the job. You came in a glorious explosion of stars, colors and sensations. Your body contracted with absurd force and relaxed like the best of massages. Your arms went limp around his neck, and you could feel his cock tremble and the hot, thick liquid fill your entire pussy.

The noise of the door stopped, his moans calmed down and now the only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing in the air.

You thought it was over, until Five climbs a hand to your neck and lets out a broken growl "'You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat, baby."

His cock moved inside you, moving in and out smoothly, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. Make sure you gobble it all up.

“Did you think we were done, princess?” he chuckled evilly, his lips moving closer until they were inches from yours. "I'm just getting started. I'm going to show you how much I've wanted you this whole fucking time.”

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lordofdestructionm · 3 months

Text

Reading Mordecai Heller as a repressed gay man

The tragic attraction

This is a full post based on my response to a great analysis by @sedgewick-gayble

Let me start by saying that if you read Mordecai as being totally asexual/aromantic and any affection he has for other characters to be entirely platonic that is entirely valid and I respect that

However as this response by Tracy makes clear on the topic of fans reading Mordecai as gay there is an intentional ambiguity about it. Being 28 at the time of the main story his "lifestyle is certainly asexual" up to this point, yet "being ace and being gay are not mutually exclusive things" and people sometimes "don't know themselves or understand their own motivations all that well"

This leaves the possibility open that Mordecai is actively repressing his natural desires and feelings

Mordecai's early life didn't exactly provide much time or opportunity for "self discovery", even by the usual standards of the less than tolerant and understanding world of the early 20th century

Being born into an impoverished family and having his father die very early in his life leaving him and his Mother and two younger sisters in dire straits, Mordecai had to get to work and assume adult responsibilities pretty damn early.

As Tracy says "selling newspapers wasn't going to cut it" and so using his natural talent with numbers Mordecai starts bookkeeping for the mob. Is it any wonder someone with that background would develop such a serious and rigidly buttoned up demeanour?

Since being forced to abandon his mother and two sisters at the start of the 1920s and flee New York, being picked up by Atlas's due to his habit of collecting useful strays, Mordecai had very few people he was close to in St Louis. With his generally anti-social personality and not only lack of interest but discomfort with any sort of flirting or romantic entanglements, that would be unlikely to change

Side note: Probaby coincidence but

There are only two people who seem to make it onto that exclusive list of people that "count" for Mordecai, who he cares about and are able to bring things to the surface he would normally keep hidden

Atlas to Mordecai is not just an employer, he is the man who saved his life, the man who moulded a desperate fearful shabby young stray into the sharp professional he is today, who took him under his wing and made him his protege. Filling the empty space his father left in his life. His grief and desperate hunt for those responsible for his death are his big motivation (the strain of which is slowly tearing him apart)

That connection is undertsandable

Much more surprising on the surface is the bond with the partner Atlas teamed him up with soon after his arrival, Viktor Vasko.

The assumption at the start would have been that while their skill sets might compliment each other in the field there would have been no warmth in their dynamic.

Certainly not on Mordecai's part as Viktor appears to be a sum total of many things Mordecai hates. Viktor is unshaven, relatively casual in his attire, speaks a broken English, and hates people chattering or “noise, noise, noise” as he calls it. Clashing hard with his obsession with good grooming, high quality tailoring, correct grammar etc. Indeed Mordecai doesn't hesitate to nag/criticize Viktor for these things

Yet at the same time Mordecai has far better chemistry with Viktor than with anyone else, able to banter and bicker with him in a way you rarely if ever see with others

Its why when he gets tailored clothes for the first time Viktor is the first person he wants to show off too. Its why the one time he is intoxicated Viktor (and his large physique) are his chosen topic of converation. Its why at Christmas/Hanuhhah he gives him the gift of a tie while claiming its just because of the big guys poor fashion sense and that its "embarassing to be seen with him" (even that justification makes him sound like a nagging girlfriend)

A smaller detail is that during their iconic chess playing in the side content, set during their days staking out the remote town of Defiance, Viktor is shown very casually winning the game much to Mordecai's visible distress

This is hilarious but could also be taken as a metaphor for Viktor (possibly without even realizing it) breaking through his defensive emotional barriers

Something Mordecai doesn't know how to handle or respond to

The animated short only adds fuel to the fire

During their dispute over strategy Mordecai moves his face so close to Viktors that he almost knocks his cap off his head. His eyes at one point even dart down towards his mouth

Sharp eyed Vikdecai fans have also noted that Mordecai seems on some level to want the two of them to match

The tie being the same colour could simpy be Mordecai giving Viktor one of his own ties because its a joke gift and he just grabbed it on a whim to tease Viktor about his poor fashion choices

But think about the matching suits at the New Years party for 1926

I mean, seriously, not only is it the exact same style of suit in the same blue-grey colour distinct from everyone else, but they are standing in the perfect spots to be symmetrical to each other. Something that we all know means a lot to this compulsive man

Mordecai must have known there was going to be a big group photo ahead of time and then carefully planned this

Got matching suits made to his and Viktors measurements

Then most impressively convinced/nagged Viktor into cooperating (he may have taken off the tie and rolled up the sleeves but hey him playing along at all is quite a compromise from Viktor "I hate dressing up" Vasko)

Mordecai is intent on making Viktor retire and get out of danger, and avoid a situation where he gets sent to kill him by Marigold because he knows he could NOT do it, and his cover and investigation into Atlas's death would be over

He is horrified that Viktor is still working at Lackadaisy (though he again has to hide how much he cares) and that he has gotten not only hurt again but hurt by Mordecai again (albeit this time indirectly by stealing the guns)

Can this be read as simply platonic comradere? Absolutely

But there is something so *intense* in the fact he was willing to resort to kneecapping him. Its an extreme and desperate act that could only result from intense emotions, seemingly out of character for someone who tries very hard to appear logical and controlled.

While Vikdecai is a very fun ship when imagining them as an actual bickering married couple, I have often said that a tragic one-sided on Mordecai's part version of Vikdecai is the one that fits closest and surprisingly well into the canon.

His nagging and complaining about Viktor in that context take on a Tsundere aspect, both to protect himself from being found out and maybe even try and convince himself the uncomfortable alien feelings aren't there. He not only doesn't want others looking too hard at his feeling he doesn't want to examine them himself all that much

There is a heartbreaking but appealing angst to the idea of this extremely repressed man having such feelings for the first time in his life for his straight best friend and NOT knowing how to handle that. Having to perform the balancing act of being around him so much as his partner but being painfully aware that he can't let anyone catch on, especially not Viktor himself, as it would likely destroy his bond with the only person in town other than Atlas he is close to.

Though tragically he did that anyway later via the kneecapping, which while about trying to keep Viktor safe, he may now looking back try and tell himself its actually somehow "better" for Viktor to hate him for that

Because the big guy now wrongly thinks the feeling is mutual and that Mordecai never really cared about him, which may be better than (what Mordecai assumes would be) disgust at his partners doomed more than platonic feelings

Because he sees those feelings and his situation as a sad perfectly structured joke life has played on him

#lackadaisy #tracy j butler #lackadaisycats #mordecai heller #viktor vasko #vikdecai #repressed #gay #asexual #ace #comic #pilot #cats #gangsters #one sided love #one sided crush #one sided attraction #internalized homophobia

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delugguk · 2 years

Text

perfect timing.

pair: jungkook x reader.

genre: best friends to lovers.

word count: 8.0k (omg this is the most I've ever written)

warnings: smut and a lot of pining?? there's a lot of tension.. I don't want to spoiler so you just.. get right into it *giggles*

summary: one night in a city full of life; what it's supposed to be a friendly and fun dinner date, ends up with a night full of unrevealed secrets and unexpected pleasure.

a/n: inspired by this request.

tag: @kookiecrumb ^v^

can you trust yourself right now?

that's your most prominent inner question but before we all go under this.. mess of thoughts, let's better get right into the main issue. shall we?

chilly nights weren't your most favorite or.. well, who are you lying to? you definitely loved these type of nights. just not when you didn't had the time to plan an awesome outfit for it ㅡ wearing only a skirt with nothing more than your panties wasn't a good plan when the cold breeze freezed your legs to death everytime you walked around but looking at the bright side of it, the only good thing about it is that at least you got to pick a decent outfit.

jungkook told you to look cute tonight because he was taking you to an 'apparently good' famous restaurant here in vegas but he barely gave you time to dress and it was always like thisㅡwell, not actually.. but-

..you're normally used to take your own time when choosing an outfit! - you know you can take too long some days but come on, you don't think you're that bad?

he always teases you about it and with the little light fight you both had because of him hurrying you up, you still think he should've given you more time. but he's jungkook and he always has to win.. right? - you scoff by just thinking about how stupid that sounds. you should definitely win sometime. at least that's what you like to tell yourself.

"what's happening?" jungkook glances at you while his hands flick through the restaurant's menu.

"nothing, why?"

"I don't know, you just seemed annoyed." he comments with a light grin. "are you still mad?"

followed by that question, you hate him so much because why does his doe eyes have to be so big and bright... you absolutely dislike when he purposely give you those manipulative puppy eyes.

"I'm not mad. I just remembered how annoying you are sometimes." you sarcastically answer.

he laughs. "is that it?"

"yep." your body leans upfront to look at your menu.

"I thought you weren't going to speak to me tonight."

"nah, it's okay. at least I look nice so I'm alright." you smile at him.

"that's true." he confirms with a soft smile. but it doesn't last long when his soft expression is already turning into a worrying one. "..but aren't you cold? I feel sorryㅡI didn't know it was going to get this cold." he sadly pouts, inmediately taking off his denim jacket not thinking twice into giving it to you.

"oh- no! I'm alright koo, well- yes I'm a little cold but you don't have to-"

"agh" he chuckles. "just take it, yeah?"

"but you'll also get cold.." you pout in a lower voice, feeling defeated.

he clicks his tongue in response. "don't worry about me. I always use two shirts underneath me, have you forgot?" he smiles.

..and of course you remember. it's something he has been doing for years now. claiming is for 'fashion purposes' in all failures and practices, you've seen him master his layering techniques improving with each year so.. it clearly is something you can easily forget.

"how can I?" you return a warm smile. "thank you koo.."

quickly standing up, jungkook tries placing his jacket down on your legs being very careful with it and it's a nice gesture, but you can't help laughing about it. "jungkook, I think I'm alright. I can do this myself."

"ah- I know. I just, uhm-" cheeks gaining a little bit of color, "yeah you.. do it." he goes back to his seat. "should we order some food and then some drinks if you're okay with that?"

the sudden changes in his tone of voice trying to jump out of this moment almost makes you laugh again. you usually tease him in situations like this but you'll let it pass this time. why was he being so cute? he always was, but right in this moment, you truly feel like you could explode.

"yeah, that sounds cool." you answer as you fix his big jacket above and beneath your naked legs. - feeling relieved as soon as the nice warm embraces your skin.

"cool."

between having nice convos, probing the food, giving reviews as you both enjoyed this momentㅡthe restaurant's food is actually nice. totally worth its popularity.

you both weren't chefs or professionals but you could say this is one of your favorite things to do. being used to travel together, going here and there for many years now, getting to know new places (for you both) like this, was sort of your thing. - something nice because while doing so, you both have been able to gain a lot of knowledge through experiences and so, along with traveling the world.. that always made you start nice, very interesting, entertaining and debatable conversations. It could never get boring between you two. speaking about anything and everything just comes very naturally for the both of you. - which could also explain why you two have grown so good when it comes to giving very well done, reasonables reviews everywhere you go. - spending time together just seemed to get better and better each time and so.. with the amount of confidence you have with each other, it's easily to just talk about whatever.

"it's all good now?"

"yeah, I've already finished." you smile.

"this wine is starting to have an effect on me, I'm not gonna lie." jungkook laughs as you follow.

"well.. I'm not very much different than you." both smiling at the same time.

jungkook's lip piercing seems to be a bit.. shinier than ever, or is that just on your mind?

"I've already pay, by the way.." jungkook says, sipping a little bit of his now finished wine.

"hm? when did you-"

"when I told you I was going to the bathroom?"

"jungkook!" you whine. "I told you tonight was my turn to pay." you try to slap his body from your seat but fail miserably when he leans his body back into his seat, laughing at you. "ugh, you even dare to laugh." you mutter.

"come on princess, you'll do it next time." he softly smiles.

but.. your heart stopped beating a little. did he just called you princess?

"p-princess?"

did you heard that right?

"you don't like that nickname?"

"yeah but you've never called me-" he interrupts you.

"do you want to go now? It's getting colder and you're just wearing a skirt." he suddenly asks.

"I- uh.. we didn't used a car." It's true, you choosed walking around this time.

"I know. remember I told you I had a feeling we'll get sort of drunk tonight?"

you nod.

"well, we're both tipsy." he laughs. "I've already called an uber."

"ah." It's all you say.

"what?" he asks, observing your sudden change of humour. "are you upset this moment is ending?" he teases.

you playfully roll your eyes. "yeah.. I mean, I like it here." you softly say leaning back to your seat, hugging your own body while looking around the atmosphere. people laughing, having their own fun, people in love..

oh yeah, you were definitely getting drunk.

jungkook also takes a glance around as soon as you do but not longer like you. placing his eyes on you instead.

"you know we can.." he pauses, thinking about it. "still have our own fun back at the hotel, right?" he's expresionless and you wish you could tell what does his eyes mean as soon as your very own meet his.

"like we always do?" your eyes glistens.

but like you said, it could never get boring.

"yeah." he smiles and you mirror him.

fixing your posture, you push strands of your hair at the back of your ear with both hands. later on, placing both palms hiding beneath your thighs. - it's such a small movement, but jungkook notices.

"are your hands cold?" he questions, earnestly.

"uh.." you don't know why you hesitate to respond. "..a little?"

jungkook gives you a warm sided smile. "do you want us to go now?" endearing enough, he extends both of his hands at you. signalling for you to reach them.

the moment you feel his palms, you're astonished. "how are your hands so warm?" you ask, kindly squishing his hands.

It makes jungkook chuckle. "I'm always warm.."

and there's just something about the way he said it..

your heart should stop beating this fast. what was going on?

jungkook continues, "I think it's time for us to go, we better wait outside." then he remembers, "shit, right- only if you want though.." mumbling a tiny, "it might be colder outside.." in a very regretful voice.

but all you do is smile at him. you know you were mad at him earlier but that doesn't mean he had to feel so bad about it. you've already said to him you were feeling nice because you still managed to look great. him just acting like this was so endearing to you because he also was being so considerate and I mean, he always was.

there was just something about tonight. maybe the wine.

"It's okay, I have you. my human heater." you tease him and jungkook nervously chuckles.

"ah.." he awkwardly looks down your hands. "yeah.."

laughing about it you delicately unattach your hands off his. scrunching your nose in a smile, lending your arm at him to return back his heavy jacket. "let's go."

but he hesitates about if he should take it or not.

"no. keep it. it's way colder outside, trust me." he gently refuses, pushing your arm back but failing at it.

"I'm okay, jungkook. I won't turn into an ice cube, I promise." chuckling, you motion back again your previews gesture.

he takes it as he faintly glowers. "but wouldn't you get more cold?" he asks, trying to give you the piece of clothing back.

"no, I'm alright. I think I can survive outside." you giggle and he does too, feeling puzzled.

"fine.." he sighs. "but, just let me know if you get too cold okay?" finally, putting back on the sky blue item.

the sight of jungkook putting on a big jacket like this was.. uh, how can you explain this? the glasses looked so good on him and his little bucket hat could never be missing in times like these right?

he's justㅡthe white shirt marked all of his (what it seems to be like-) strong chest.. pectorals softly drawing a line in between, you feel like you should look away. - and you do. you don't know exactly why. you've seen him do this many times so why were you thinking this way? it must be the wine all over again.

but if you were going to blame on the wine, then how can you explain the way his eyes lingered on you the whole time? and why was he doing it so slowly? almost like teasing you?his eyes were so.. cloudy too? perhaps this wine was hitting strong on him too.. you don't know.

"uh- yeah, like always." you try to smile back at him but you believe your cheeks were embarrassing you right now.

trying to walk away from him, jungkook's faster into grabbing your shoulder, gently.

"why are you in such hurry?" he giggles. "here." taking your hand like he always does. - in any other day, you'll normally think this is something very usual, but tonight..

walking towards the exit, you don't expect feeling his hand play with his fingers trying to find yours so he could slowly fill the little empty gaps in between your fingers.

he's bold enough to lace them together, and it's a completely new feel to what it should be a normal intimacy between you two. - but then, you remember what he once told you once about holding hands with just the palms and the one lacing fingers.

"I just think it's very intimate" he states. "I wouldn't just do it with anyone. It's too intimate, I mean, I'm okay with just touching our palms but if I ever lace my fingers with anyone," he pauses. "then just know that's me being very much in love." he laughs. "I don't fuck around when it comes to those type of things and you know it."

and.. hell yeah you knew. not only you were a hopeless romantic but so was he. you remember agreeing to it.

discussing about it, he even told you he could never hold your hand that way because it'll feel way too weird. you couldn't agree more in that moment but if he's doing it now.. was it because he..? no. you don't think so. he's just tipsy right?

you can't help but feel your body tense as soon as he does and all you wish is for jungkook to not notice since he's sort of walking ahead of you but.. he's jungkook and so, of course he does.

"Is everything okay?" he glances back at your frame, stopping a little but you encourage him to keep walking.

"yeah, I'm.. alright." you try to give him a not-so-nervous smile and all he does is grin while looking back upfront.

is he crazy?

stepping outside of the restaurant, jungkook wasn't lying when he said it'll be more cold. - to be honest you low-key knew it was all true but at the same time, you didn't wanted him having to sacrifice his own comfort because of you.

"our uber should be here in a couple of minutes." jungkook says as you nod your head.

still holding hands, you take your time to look around as jungkook's gaze reminds on you. you don't notice it but him gently squishing your hand caughts your attention.

"yeah?" you meet his eyes once again that are only hidden by his transparent glasses.

jungkook doesn't know if you think he's a fool but he can notice the way your body quivers. grinning to himself, he quickly manhandles your body against him into a hug.

"what are you-"

"I know you're cold, silly." with his big jacket still on, he manages to wrap it around your body. but not only before guiding your hands around his waist so you could hug him first which is now so...very, much close to him. "come here."

you were going to complain but.. the wine playing its role into making you not care about itㅡgot you absorbing how warm jungkook's body actually feels against you and all you could imagine are pure dangerous thoughts now. wondering how his naked body would feel against your skin because if he naturally feels this good with clothes... you just wonder how perfect it'll be.

but what were you thinking?

you shouldn't be thinking like this. he's your best friend, damn. for many years too! you can't just act silly because of you being tipsy.

tipsy. not even drunk. fuck.

"I'm very cold." but your subconscious didn't seemed to listen to your right mind.. taking all the control over your body needs and heart. It was a rare but very possible situation.

"I know baby." jungkook replies and it's just.. he first calls you princess and now.. baby?

you need to know if this is just him being tipsy because you've been tipsy, even fully drunk around each other before and none of those moments compares to what you feel and what he's doing tonight.

glancing up at his face, your chin buries on his chest.

he smells so good..

"baby?" you repeat and damn how you wish he wasn't wearing those glasses. wanting to see those pretty eyes up-close.

when he looks down at you, his face is so close to yours you feel like pulling out of his body but something in you tells you not to and that's when the staring contest begins.

silently looking into each other's eyes you both last a few seconds. seconds that feels like minutes. his trained arms wrapped around your body in a delicate hug that feels tight enough to ever let go. - your pupils move around his pretty face quickly enough to end up focusing on his lips. his lip piercing looking very tempting right now so it wasn't just your mind playing games earlier, you were growing this tiny desire of wanting to kiss him. very badly.

jungkook notices your eyes pattern. faintly grinning to himself, he licks his lips trying to provoke you. perhaps he's insane but giving him a very intense expressionless face, your eyes glisten so much, so does his and it's like as if you both were silently asking for something that you can't quite put into words but it's also something that's so obvious to guess. - so naturally, jungkook gives two tiny squeezes to your waist. again, something he usually does, but as your breathing was slowly increasing, this wasn't just a casual touch. you actually wanted more.

"what are we doing?" you whisper before even thinking about it.

"I don't know." he responds in the same way. tucking one hair that just seemed to fall over your face behind your ear. his gaze quickly going back to your lips while doing so.

"what do you want?" you dare to ask, you needed to know. this feeling only increases with time so it's only fair for you to know what's also going on in his head.

but just before he could answer, of course your uber comes.

lingering his gaze into your eyes, you could tell he was thinking. about what? you don't know, but he seems very doubtful.

"let's go. you'll get more cold." It's all he says.

and as soon as you blink, you're on the car.

the way back to the hotel wasn't so awkward thanks to the person that was driving having a bright personality. there was just this one question they made that make your body tense for a couple of seconds but it was alright afterwards.

"you're both very pretty. are you dating?"

with a smile on his face and you glance at jungkook who's also waiting for you to respond.

"we are friends"

"no."

you both say at the same time. the person's driving just laughs and there's that look he gaves that yells I know something you don't but of course, doesn't mention anything.

"that's a shame." It's all he says later on after finishing up talking some more.

you should be used to that question. you both, actually. people always asked you this.

but you just didn't know what was happening tonight.

jungkook kept on watching the city lights as the car goes and you notice how he.. still hasn't let go of your hand. surprisingly enough? your palms aren't sweating. keeping all the warmth jungkook's hands was giving you and you wondered if your heart was the only one beating this fast.

the city lights didn't seemed so blurry as you go in the car, meaning you weren't drunk. but it maybe is because you were seating right now. once you get out of the car.. that's when you know the real deal.

still sort of feeling cold, the car didn't helped at all for your legs to stop quivering, so you have no other choice than to start caressing your bare legs with your only available hand and because of that sudden repetitive motion, jungkook notices as he finally nods his head looking at what you're doing.

"do you want me to tell the driver to turn the heater on?" he suddenly asks and the soft warm of his breath hitting your ear made you feel some things..

"h-huh?" you flinch, quickly reacting. "no, its fine."

silently staring at you all jungkook does is, let go of your hand. pinioning both of your legs slowly placing them at the side above his thighs with your entire body as he hugs your legs and one of his hands rest on your back so you could get close to him and it's justㅡhe was so strong he could only manhandle you so easily.. not that you complained though but you think that this is the most he has ever done that.

what the fuck is he doing? was your first thought.

the fact that he did this so casually, looked like he didn't seemed to care about how much this was going to affect you.. or maybe he didn't know?

In this position, jungkook could hug you side ways muffling only a portion of his jacket around you.

this feels nice was your second thought. already feeling his warm embrace.

fuck was your third. as soon as his hands started to leave slow caresses through the entirety of your legs. only close enough to your thighs.

"to keep you warm." Is all he says with a smile, but oh boy was that doing more than to keep you warm.

everything seemed to happen so fast so you tried your best to not do something stupid but jungkook was so.. damn. his hands touching your skin feels as if they burned your entire skin and you didn't know if that was because of you wanting to see just how far he could go. - explicit images fullfiling your mind of how many possibilities but fuck. you repeat to yourself once again how you shouldn't be thinking about your best friend like this.

at least not when you don't know if he feels the same.

but as soon as you say that, you find one of your hands moving naturally taking his glasses off. not because you hated them but because you wanted a clear view of his doe eyes. - jungkook's reaction draws a smirk to his face. lowkey knowing just how badly you've been wanting to do that and as expected, they looked very different now that you could clearly see them. well, not as clear yet because there's not really so much light in this car, but you get it.

saving up his glasses through one of his pockets, your face leans closer to his. "perhaps.." growing bolder, you tease him at the side of his ear. "you want to seduce me, jeon?"

"define seducing." is all he says, glancing at you.

"hm." you hum, nodding your head softly.

if he wanted you to show him, then that's what you'll do.

sensually biting your lips, you start guiding your anular and second finger, walking a path against his chest. teasingly. your head resting on one of his shoulders as you watch your hand go. - ending at the nape of his head, you start playing with the little strands of hair tangling on your fingers as your breathing is now brushing his neck when you purr, "this.." leaving a soft peck on his pretty neck for the first time ever. your lips has never touched jungkook like this or in any other way, ever.

"..is me.." another peck touches his hot skin, this time with a little trail of sensual kisses. "..seducing.." all of it while guiding your lips towards his jawline.

"..you." suddenly stopping as you whisper against his skin and something tingles inside of him.

It makes him automatically react by gripping one of your thighs and you swear you almost let out a tiny scream by how sudden it was. but your skin was basically crying wanting to be touched by him, it was only understandable.

feeling risky as you gain more confidence, you place a lingering kiss to his jawline. jungkook's starting to feel sort of hot and so, he bites his lip ring trying to cope with his desire.

not being able to stop whatever was happening right now, he immediately manhandles your whole body adjusting your thighs to be accommodated along his hips. body no longer beside him as you were now facing him and he makes sure to really open your legs so you could be perfectly close and at his center. he was getting so turned on but still, was trying really hard not to. he couldn't risk having a boner in front of you when he didn't know what you actually wanted from him.

despite not having so much light, you linger your gaze to each other. only the flickering lights could do some justice into lightning your bodies and faces. - staring for a couple of seconds, all you can hear is the car's smooth driving sound. there's no a single smile on his face but you on the other hand, were smiling seductively taking your lips in between your teeth.

gosh.. just what was wrong with you.

you thanked this car for being huge so the driver couldn't really see what was actually going on at the back.

he'll think of you as liers for sure..

when jungkook drags his eyes down your lips, all he wants to do is kiss you but.. he didn't wanted to make a stupid move when he isn't even clear of what you want.

"y/n.." he quietly calls your name. "what.." pausing, only to gather a little more of courage. "what are we doing?" now he's the one to ask. hands resting on your thighs, curiosity paints all over his eyes.

"I don't know." you sincerely reply. same eyes, same feels.

only for you to lean over his chest as your face remains just a few inches away from him. your face remaining with a few inches away, you can perfectly feel his breathing along with yours. - jungkook frozes for a few seconds.

but it doesn't last long as soon as he's saying, "we are both tipsy."

"I know." you giggle. "so?"

"so?" mimicking your tone and chuckling about it, "I don't want you or.. usㅡmaking something that will later ruin us.." he utters.

"ruin us?" you repeat.

he nods.

"are you speaking from my or your point of view?"

"y/n.." he humorously warns, with a hint of being serious. "I mean this."

"I know, koo." you aver very gently to him. "we can just let this go. It's all good." you mean that but still.. can't help but feel a bit disappointed.

and as always, jungkook can see through you. but he doesn't says anything as the driver calls for your arrival. - you quickly get off him, suddenly missing his body warmth but you guess that's all for tonight.

but only did you forget about one little thing.

entering the room, jungkook's hands doesn't seem to leave your body despite what he said on the car. dancing almost all night, teasing each other with a hint of tension here and there, it was a great moment.

but the couple of stares coming from jungkook were getting harder to digest as the night progressed and so, standing in front of him right now felt like an actual nightmare. so before it all gets worst, after a few more drinks you both call it a night and prepare to take separated showers.

you low-key wished that taking this shower could make all of your strange thoughts turn into dustㅡbut apparently, the universe didn't wanted you to behave so here you are, laying in bed while jungkook's at your side, thinking about many things. dangerous things. things you aren't even sure what they meant.

or maybe you do..

..and that's why you're now looking at the pitch black ceiling. - all you can hear is the subtle blow of the air conditioner as you wondered if jungkook's mind was also flooded with heavy thoughts just like yours.

"are you sleeping?" you softly ask.

"nope." he says almost humorously making you chuckle. "I'm very much awake."

"so am I." you remark as your body slowly faces to his side and that makes you actually take a rough glance at what is like jungkook's body right now. you could only tell much because the only light functioning as your source was the moon peaking through the giant curtains. - with his body facing up the ceiling, you could take a view of his very familiar side profile. the pearly soft lights of the moon barely caressing his skin but you can still have a view of his very well defined jawline. his hair was slightly parted side ways and you wondered just how soft it'll be if you ever get to touch it again.

you suddenly get this strong urge of wanting to kiss him and just before you could think first about your future actions,

"jungkook.." your mouth is already speaking before you.

"mhm?"

lifting your body, you seat up still facing directly to his side. "can we do this just one time?" voice small, definitely shy enough for him to note the lowkey nervousness of your tone.

"do.. what?" he's careful to ask.

without much thinking, your next move is to slowly but surely straddle his waist as you make sure he isn't feeling weird or awkward about it. - as he let's you place yourself on him, you continue. - eyes gazing at each others and your hands lay on his clothed chest. your face slowly leaning towards his.

jungkook doesn't have a clear point of what's going through your mind but whatever it was, he wasn't going to stop you from doing it.

"kiss me just once." you purr close to his lips.

"Iㅡare you sure?" he wasn't going to lie. that's something he has been wanting to do ever since you've arrived in vegas. but as always, just because he wants it as badly doesn't mean he won't care about what you feel first.

instead of just responding with a simply 'yes', all you do is place a very daring kiss to his cheek, closer to his lips and that makes jungkook feel sparks inside of his stomach and so then, he wanted to kiss you bad, oh so badly.

so he pushes his lips towards yours. a gently touch that soon turns into a deadly unstoppable heated session as gasping for air was a strong necessity. who would've thought of you two really going at it as soon as you touched your lips. is this your bodies communicating into how much they've been wanting each other? It definitely was something to think about later on.. but as of now, you'll just take the risk. take this momentㅡto saviour what you've been wanting to touch, wanting to feel, wanting to experience.

you wanted to know what every other girl get to feel when playing around with him. why every girl always seemed to run up to you the moment things were over, asking you for advice just so they could have him back. but jungkook wasn't an asshole with girls going around breaking their hearts. you always wondered why his relationships always finished almost too fast. but given to how desperate they always were.. made you wonder about many things. was he really that good? if we were to mention his personality.. yeah he has his flaws but don't we all? he still was so good for you. almost too perfect in your eyes but.. the only thing of him being unfamiliar to you was this. so what if once you get a taste, you can't escape? like all the other girls. what if you feel more after this? is this really okay? - you don't know, but as of now.. you were more than willing to find out. accepting all kinds of fate.

"touch me." you moan to his lips.

"where do you want me to touch?"

"anywhere and everywhere. I'm yours tonight." you say, mind already gone.

"are you sure about that, baby?"

he rasps and fuck that nickname, he already was making you feel crazy and you haven't even started yet.

"mhm" moaning, that's all you say. grinding your center against his as jungkook helps you get more friction, lifting his hips.

you seem very eager and jungkook likes that, so he starts by caressing your bare legs. all you have on is your very short silky pajama shorts with a cotton blouse and he doesn't know how you always manage to stay so pretty for him.. or not for him, but the thought of you ever doing that excites him. the movement of your hips seemed to get more prominent the moment he started gripping your thighs getting close towards your waist. he loved your body, he always has. he just hasn't find the right time to tell you that because he thinks it might feel too awkward. but he has been dying to tell you that for years now. maybe tonight could be the perfect time for him to do that, so he gives it a try. admiring your clothed body as he switch positions taking you down and kissing your neck. the feeling of his hands sneaking underneath your blouse only burning your body.

"I love your body so much, so perfect to me." he deeply mumbles against your neck, heat traveling all over your skin. "I wish I could just take this blouse off." desperately kissing you close to your ear and god, did you feel so hot right now.

"then take it off." you command. your hands sneaking through his shirt so he could also take his off.

jungkook doesn't think twice when he's already doing it. not after leaving a kiss to your lips though. feeling intoxicated by it, he comes back to taste your pretty lips, not getting enough of it.

his body looked so hot on top of yours, you liked the view way too much. his tattoos only being the second protagonist here, of course the main one it's him.

once your body's full bare, you were completely naked in front of him, except for your silky shorts. - not even realising it, he let's out a gasp.

"It's even better to what I've ever imagined." licking his lips as you bite yours, his eyes only darkens the moment he sees your nipples be erect and it's all because of him and there's something about it that makes jungkook want to keep you here and stay in this moment forever.

so taking one of your boobs, he's softly squishing them. fingers circling around it ever so slowly and soon enough, he's already tapping your mouth so you could open up and lick his finger for him. only to bring it back into your nipple, just touching directly this time. - he flicks, pinches and lick them with such detail and care, you feel you could faint as your legs start repeatedly pressing up against each other, only increasing their need for some type of friction. jungkook slowly watch as he silently enjoys your reactions and desperation about it. giving him satisfaction, but because he can't let you get your way just yet, your little cries could only affect him this much so that's why he gently sundered your legs apart so you could stop doing that and prevent him from wanting to fuck you right away.

you make him that weak.

"calm down baby, I'll treat you nice.. I promise." he kisses your lips but all you do is complain, moaning into his lips.

"I'm so wet, please do something about it." you arch your back as you slowly circle your hips in the neediest way, giving him those pleading puppy eyes an jungkook's mind almost stop functioning for a few seconds. you were so adorably fuckable, this might not last as much as he wants.

"fuck- you really want me to.." he pauses. "agh, fuck." hissing between his teeth he takes a step back getting comfortable in bed, opening more your legs as he got rid of your shorts. only letting you wear your white, now with a big round wet circle, underwear. "fuck. you really are so wet." he sighs, overwhelmed by the sight.

tracing one finger on top of where you want him the most, he teases you with long and slow traces as he watch your body twitch. god, you were so needy. he never imagined you to be this way and fuck does that turn him on so badly.. - your little whimpers are like music to his ears when he sees you caught your lips in between your teeth as soon as he keeps teasing you. just now adding a bit more of weight on his finger. you close your eyes and he let's your hips grind on it.

Intensifying your sways of hips, you seat up on your elbows as you keep your eyes glued to him, panting so much with your mouth mid-open as your arousal and orgasm increases. -jungkook suddenly flicks over your clothed heat and you flinch, just to feel your clit and walls pulsate because of it. "fuck" you cry as your head faces the ceiling. - jungkook grins at that seeing the way your hips grind on his hand more aggressively, he proceeds onto flattening his entire palm over your pussy and as soon as you know, he's giving consecutive mini slaps into it. making your breathing cut in between as your legs tremble.

"mm, are you going to cum pretty girl?" his voice so nice, so sensual. It just feels so right.

"euhng" you sob.

"is that all you can say?" he traces a long deep line in between your wet clothed pussy lips.

but you can barely talk as it's already so hard to breathe.

"it's okay baby.. you look so fucking hot right now." he rasps licking his lips. "so sexy.." in between his breath.

"cum.. make me c-cum." you plead with those eyes again.

"yeah?"

you desperately nod with your eyes closed.

"is that what you want?"

"eung." you moan.

and it sounds so rich that jungkook doesn't wait any longer into taking your drenched panties off and rapidly enough, he gets comfortable to start eating you out.

"agh! fuck-" his tongue so warm against yours as he flattened it on top of your clit. his saliva just mixing with your arousal as his silky black hair just landed over his sweaty forehead - jungkook barely moved but he felt so hot and so turned on, his body was already condensing it all.

"so fucking good." he moans against your clit, kissing on it very passionately. he was so good that your hands couldn't find another spot other than to stay over his head.

you think you've never been more turned on in your life. he really wasn't kidding when he said he'll treat you nice. this was beyond good for you. he was incredibly so good.

introducing one of his fingers now, the feeling was so high that you couldn't wait more so you cummed on him, so god damn much, jungkook just enjoyed having to place your hips back down to bed because you were trembling so much. your moans enriching his ears... he wanted you so fucking bad. he don't think you could even imagine a portion of how much.

after reaching your end, your walls were pulsating so crazy along your clit. and you don't think you've ever felt this horny before. your clit just have this rich sensation of wanting to be stimulated all over again.. it's not even to the point of you wanting to feel some overstimulation, you were actually very horny again like you feel you could cum again if he wanted you to. you've already recovered so fast, you don't think somebody has ever made you feel this way..

"jungkook.." you seat down this time, arching your back and sticking up your ass as you almost cringe at how wet you are. only the soft and cold air of the room meeting your exposed private parts. jungkook mimics your position, only this time sort of manspreading. he's so horny too. you could see it from his pajama pants and they weren't even tight into his legs. eyes lidded and so dark, you don't think you've ever seen him like this but.. it was quite a sight. he was so damn attractive, fuck.

"take off your pants." you command and he does as you say.

once he reveals his dick, he's so hard it inmediately jumps back into his stomach. prominent and faded veins around it but they aren't much, just a few ones. the right amount. his tip being of an angry pretty red, you can't believe even his dick is so fucking delicious to look at. he just got it all, doesn't he?

the moment you delicately grab his dick, he stops you. "wh-"

"I want you to kiss me while you masturbate on top of me."

"huh?" your body astonished.

"just get on top of me and grind my dick with your pretty pussy, yeah?" he croaked very hotly.

he doesn't need to ask you twice.. your pussy clenches at the thought of feeling his bare dick and all that's on your mind is him right now.. not believing of the day for you to be doing this but look at you now, about to extend your juices along his length.

jungkook angled his head resting against the bed headboard as he lays down. - you seductively feel bold enough to crawl towards him with both of his legs forming a straight line. he motions his hands behind of his neck, all while a very devilish smirk plastered on his very tempting lips.

just how much more hot can this man get?

the moment you straddle his waist, both of your hands run through his abs and firm pectorals. you give him a few kisses. enjoying the way he sighed closing his eyes. you took your time to feel him whole, those gym schedules were doing their glorious work. - you kiss his neck, bite his earlobe, tease him a little, have fun a little. until your lips finally land on top of his lips. very nicely, very warm..

and damn it was a mess. not only down there but your feelings too.. just how much do you actually like him? those were your current thoughts.

placing your hands at both sides of his neck, your hips finally lowers into his length.

gasping in between kisses the moment your walls wrap around his tip ㅡ he feels so big, so thick, so rich.. you suddenly are in need of his warm touch so you take both of his arms, putting it back at the side of your legs to see what he'll do about it.

slowly swaying your hips back and forth, your pussy coated his dick so well.. it was messy, but so hot.. just something about teasing him getting inside but not entirely..

promptly grasping each side of your hips, jungkook takes his time into palming your ass. you're making so much sensual noises.. his heart couldn't stop beating. his breathing only getting heavier along with yours. he searches back into your lips. giving you a lingering kiss as he squeezed your body so nicely. he can't stop his emotions of wanting to tell you his feelings and so,

"I like you so fucking much y/n.." he finally confesses against your lips. his hips only twitching for the way your pussy slided against him. he was getting desperate just as much as you.

"fuck." It's all you say while lowering your head into his shoulder, slightly biting it and moaning about it because you didn't know him confessing to you like this could get you this horny. - maybe it was because of the fact of him feeling the same way as you.

"gosh, I want you like crazy. I'm so ffucking sorry." he whimpers, pressing down your ass right now.

but his apology is not welcomed because you want him to know how badly you also want him and like him. - you aren't stupid to like, not know that this is the perfect opportunity to confess your feelings so with nothing else to lose, you make it better to let him know just as much.

grinding slowly but eagerly into him, you unattach your face off his shoulder just so you could give him a very loving piercing look, breathing into his lips as you both lips are slightly parted. your face remains so close to him, chest almost touching his as your fingers tangles at the top of his head.

"don't be. I like you too, jeon." you reveal, panting against his lips.

jungkook felt his face froze for a few seconds, "you do?"

"eung." you moan against his neck, kissing all around it. "it's been 4 months now." very lost feeling the thick skin of his dick.

"can you fuck me now? I want you very badly..." you moan. oscillating your hips, coating more of his dick with your arousal as you're looking at him very sensually with a bite to your lower lip into a grin.

and jungkook tries to process this new information from entering his brain. he doesn't have other choice than to push it away for now.. - deciding he'll do the second thing he has been wanting to do for years. the first one being already done.

"I'll fuck you good." he smirks.

It's all he says before he's already hovering on top of you, dick in hand teasing your walls, he slowly enters. gasping at the same time, he let's you take your time to adjust while he tastes your lips and it's just - your lips were already so addicting to him.

once he moves, he marks a slow pace feeling you whole. he feels so full inside of you.. - jungkook's eyes doesn't leave yours as time progresses. fucking you hard, he takes both of your hands guiding them at the side of your head. lacing his fingers together with yours and the moment he does, something inmediately shifted with just the delicate change of synchronizing both your fingers.

suddenly, jungkook started fucking you in a different way. it was no longer hard but deep, sensual.. very overwhelming as he started kissing your boobs, feeling your body up, biting you here and there.. - you decide you wanted him close and so your legs naturally fondle around his waist. his breathing now burning your neck, you were getting closer with how heavy his body feels against yours and so, when you finally cum, it doesn't take longer as soon as he follows you up.

breathing between each others bodies, the only thing that can be felt right now was the same old soft sound of the air conditioner and your very delighted heartbeats.

and suddenly, after taking a very well deserved cold shower, an already sleeping jungkook lays on this shared bed and all you can think about is.. once tomorrow comes, how different things going to be?

"why didn't you tell me and waited for four months?" jungkook insisted. "you could've told me."

"It isn't so easy.. you know?" you scoff at him. "we have been friends for so long, it was almost impossible for me to ever think you felt something for me too.."

"wasn't I obvious?"

"obvious?" you laugh. "you didn't even gave me hints!" defending yourself. "four months is okay, I could've spent a lifetime and you still wouldn't know."

he rolls his eyes. "why do you think my relationships always ended so quick y/n?"

"..why?" curiosity filling your eyes.

"because of you!" he says as if that was something extremely obvious for like.. giving you hints.

you narrow your eyes. "do.. you really think that's a good hint?"

"yeah!"

you burst into laugh. "please, I just thought you were bad at relationships" you fake cry. "even though wondered a lot about why they kept coming back after a break up.."

"well, now you know why." he laughs.

"shut up, that ain't even everything about you."

"oh so there's more?" he teased.

"maybe."

..and you're glad that with jungkook's bright personality, everything seemed to be okay.

if anybody were to ask you about why you were so scared into confessing your feelings.. you don't know. but one thing you do know is..

that once that time comes, as long as you trust your feelings and let things flow, it'll automatically become your perfect timing.

so, trust that. your own timing.

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