#Roman on the other hand is rarely so happy

[chiropterx]

Muse vs Mun ♡

Tagged byStolen from;; @ratwhsprs Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this?

[schmweed]

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ two lovers entwined, pass me by

"and heaven knows i'm miserable now" —the smiths

content: leo valdez x roman! reader

╰┈▸ back cover: what if leo gets a little too tired of being the seventh wheel, wait- ninth wheel? (and meets a girl who is a d1 hater)

╰┈▸ warnings: leo and yn dont hate hate couples its a joke okay (unless its not a joke anymore pls give them love-) cursing, maybe ooc reyna? NOT canon compliant, a bit of angst but overall its silly

librarian's annotations: this is now my fav work if u guys dont like it then dont tell me pls 😣

leo was tired. sick and tired of everyone's public displays of affection! can they at least have the decency to romance each other in the privacy of their own rooms!? he did not build ten of them for no reason! there was absolutely no way they needed to suck face at the dining table. like, right in front of his food!?

okay, he was being a bit dramatic. the most everyone was willing to do in public was hold hands. and maybe share a kiss. but that was a kiss too much! and wasn't reyna supposed to off doing (cool) praetor shit!? ever since her and jason made up, leo has not been able to catch a break! can they stop eyefucking each other already!? (they are simply staring into one another's eyes)

"guys." leo swept his gaze over the dining table. he was seated at the end, giving him an unwarranted view of everyone paired up. apparently, love is also deaf, since no one turned their head to him.

"guys!" leo raised his voice. would he be heard over the sound of their unspoken conversations? heads finally spun to look at him, as if they just remembered he was there.

"can you guys like, eat? or do this-" he gestured widely. "elsewhere? and by elsewhere i mean not in front of me."

they all managed to give him the exact same look that was a mix of embarrassment at being called out, and something that said "poor leo, he's so single!" oh come on! jason made it even worse by putting a—what was supposed to be—comforting hand on his arm. "it's okay, leo. i'm sure you'll find someone one day."

this was not funny at all. and leo would know; he's the funniest guy ever! he snatched his arm away with an utterly aghast expression. "ew! get your pity off of me!" he shuddered, playing up the theatrics and wiped his forearm over jason, giving him his couple-cooties back.

the blond reeled back, laughing at his best friend's antics. "what was that for!?"

"don't act like you don't know!" he sneered accusingly.

nights were always the worst for leo. they were quiet, and not the calm, peaceful quiet when he would stay out and watch the sun set, the time before his happiness came to an end. it was an empty quiet, devoid of the laughter he caused, his thoughts become louder to fill up the silence.

(it was night when his mother died, when he had burned down the warehouse. when he had killed her. it was night when he awoke to the front door slamming, the sounds of drunken yells and glass splintering were backing instruments in an interlude of impending misery as he waits for the sun to shine once again. it was night when he ran away, with nothing more than his heavy heart and some left over change.)

leo's thoughts ran rampant with the feelings he kept in a glass box. always there, always seen, very fragile yet rarely opened. sometimes he would shake it a little too hard, and it would come crashing down like a bottle of alcohol, spilling insecurities instead of wine.

tonight was one of those times.

he doesn't know what brought it on. well, he lied; it was the sight of everyone at dinner, looking happy and complete without him. but he was used to it. it shouldn't have bothered him this much. but the more he let it stew, the more it hurt. leo loved his friends, sure, but he couldn't help but have a little bit of resentment at how easy it was for them to make up, make out. hell, even piper got a girlfriend, a mortal one at that! between traveling and fighting monsters, he didn't even know that was possible. what about him was so unlovable?

as he tossed and turned to shake off the voices in his head, he knew that this would be another sleepless night.

today was going to be a good day; leo could feel it in his gut. the skies were clear, there were no monsters coming to wake them up, and the engine was running smoothly. he had time to work on his little projects all day today! he hummed a tune as he walked to the engine room, or his work room for today, and spun a wrench in his hand. maybe he had a little skip to his saunter, a pep in his step. something about today was just so-

his gut lied to him. (maybe he was hungry?) the wrench clattered to the ground as he came to an abrupt stop. "oh. my. gods." leo paused between every word to further emphasize his disdain.

the sight was scandalous, completely and irrevocably scandalous. like, i-need-to-wash-my-brain-out scandalous. and leo was so not being dramatic this time.

percy and annabeth flinched away from each other in a half-asleep fumble, trying to act as if they had not just been caressing each other's bodies mere moments ago. (okay, maybe he was being dramatic again) this wasn't even a romantic place to do that! and leo would know, he's such a romantic guy. what was the purpose of his hard work of making bedrooms if they were just going to sneak off and desecrate his beloved engine room!?

"frank catching you two once wasn't enough?" leo huffed and bent down to pick up his dropped tool. "now i have to see the two of you fraternizing in my domain!?"

"that's not even the proper word-" annabeth had tried to hold back, but the urge to correct him was too much.

"i don't care! shoo!"

leo was so done. his perfect day had been ruined first thing in the morning! now it was late, he was tired, and he was finally heading back to his room to get some much needed rest after holing himself up all day working on random knick-knacks. a soft noise caught his attention. it was dim, the lights low since him and annabeth wanted to save electricity. he felt the familiar dread in his stomach. there was absolutely no way this could be happening.

"we shouldn't do this here..." wait, was that reyna?

"i know.. but i'm gonna miss you when you leave." no. no. NO. the direction the two very very familiar voices were coming from was right in front of the hallway to his bedroom. "please?"

leo was torn. he didn't want to walk in on them, but he couldn't spend another night in the engine room! he wanted his comfy bed right now!

he slapped a hand over his eyes and stepped heavily on the wooden floorboards, giving them a much needed warning. he heard the sound of fabric and shuffling, a satisfied smirk gracing his face.

"are you guys decent?" leo asked, still squeezing his eyes shut under his hand.

jason huffed, no doubt red in the face. "it's not like we weren't in the first place."

leo dared to open his eyes, finding that not only was his face red, but there were bruises starting to dapple his neck. ew. he did not want to think about how that came to be. "uh huh. well go and canoodle somewhere not in front of my room, please and thank you."

"canoodle?"

"reyna i told you, i don't wanna go!" you grumbled akin to a toddler, despite your status as the centurion of the first cohort. you took off your armor, dropping it to the ground haphazardly. "i don't need to see you and mister perfect canoodling in front of me!"

the praetor snorted and shook her head. "'canoodling?' you're the second person i've heard use that word this week." she paused, a thoughtful expression passing over her face. "you guys would get along well, i think. anyways, i'm not asking as a friend, i'm ordering you as praetor."

oh that was so unbelievably low! "what!? reynaa!" you stretched out the end of her name in an embarrassingly childish whine. good thing it was just the two of you here, otherwise no one would let you live it down. "i thought they were supposed to be going soon anyway!?"

"you heard me. and no, they're staying for a couple more nights. something about the engine being broken again?" she shrugged, an amused glimmer breaking through her usually serious front. "besides, we have a lot to discuss about the whole gaea thing, and who better to bring than you? you're my right hand woman."

you tried to hide a smile at her words, but sweet-talk always won you over. "ugh, fine. i guess i'll go."

something was up. you knew that from the moment she asked you to "wear something other than purple for once." who even owned anything but purple!? heck, you didn't even know reyna had different clothes outside of uniform! was that even allowed? you'd only ever seen her wear the same shirt as you, and a toga if the event accounted for it.

you sifted through your wardrobe, digging through masses of violet and coming up blank. oh well, guess its uniform time again. not that you minded all that much.

"you are changing." reyna shook her head, giving you a disappointed look only a mother could offer. this wasn't even a big deal! what was so wrong with your shirt? you rather liked purple!

"but why!? what better way to represent rome than this?" you gestured to your clothing. "aren't we talking business? also this is like the only shirt i have."

"because-"

"you just wanna look all pretty for your boyfriend." you cut her off, faking a gag. "doesn't mean i have to look pretty."

her shoulders tensed and you drew back, already anticipating her near-fatal blow.

"reyna? you know i was just kidding- OW!"

"-wait this is so my color actually." you checked yourself in her mirror. who knew reyna had fashion sense? although not much was required for a simple shirt and jeans.

she nodded and got to her feet. "suits you well. consider it my apology."

"huh? apology for what? for hitting me? aww you're so-"

"no. for what's about to happen to you." a solemn expression took over her face. she was well aware of your exaggerated hatred for couples. maybe you were just a bitter single, but she wasn't about to tell you that. she hoped you would soon be taken (not literally) and stop harassing her for her romantic escapades.

that was ominous. should you be scared for your life? "what the hell does that even mean?"

oh. now you knew exactly what it meant. as the two of you boarded the argo ii, she was immediately swept into a bone-crushing hug by jason, as if he couldn't bear to let her go ever again. you almost threw up at the sight. how could your beloved best friend be reduced to a lovesick schoolgirl at the touch of a man!? a man that had forgotten her! (and remembered, and apologized, and confessed his love- okay, you were starting to see her side quite clearly)

you turned your head away entirely, not wanting to see all that. but everywhere you looked, a new couple seemed to pop up. it was like your worst nightmare come to life. percy and annabeth? piper and some girl? frank and hazel? holding hands? since when were they a thing!? sweet hazel and shy frank? they were—admittedly—adorable, but still!

your only respite was leo looking just as exasperated as you. he must have it way worse; he had to live here with all of them. you shuddered. you were glad you weren't in his place right now.

you stood awkwardly to the side as they reunited. do they do this all the time? and everyone's just cool with it? maybe they can relate, with their taken-ness and all. ugh.

leo peeked at you curiously from the corner of his eye. your expression was as clear as day, face scrunched up in disdain as he traced your gaze to the practically infinite amount of couples onboard. he nodded internally, knowing exactly how you were feeling. but hey, he couldn't just let a pretty girl like you stay unhappy on his ship, not if he could help it!

"hey there," leo said smoothly, or as smooth as he could be after he had almost tripped on the crack between the floorboards. "i'm leo."

finally! someone had the decency to entertain you. "i know you! you're the guy that made octavian throw a hissy fit for firing at new rome!" shit, was that a weird thing to say for a first time interaction? too late now.

the brunette cringed at the mention of his possession. "uh, that's not what most people know me by, but yeah..?"

"oh? and what do most people know you by?" consider yourself intrigued.

leo perked up at your question, having been given an amazing opportunity to charm you. "well obviously it's my rugged good looks, and ingenious inventions, and-"

"we're starting dinner now!" jason called out from the dining table, before recieving an elbow to the gut from reyna and a harsh whisper from piper.

you were lost in your thoughts, zoning out as everyone spoke around you. leo's actually kinda... a tiny part of you popped the idea into your head. he was kinda, indeed. gods, i hate couples. a much larger portion of your mind seemed to yell. do you, or do you just hate being single? you asked yourself. huh. well it's probably-

a cough to your left caught your attention. it was leo. when his brown eyes met yours, you couldn't see a trace of that same boy who was described a traitor and a freak for firing at new rome. maybe something really did possess him.

"wanna know how i built this ship?" he asked excitedly. it was clear that the argo ii was his pride and joy.

"yeah!" you grinned, his cheerfulness rubbing off on you. who cares if he fired on new rome anymore? that was so last tuesday.

"so first, i had this cool metal dragon..."

unbeknownst to you, annabeth whispered across the table to reyna. "i think it's working?"

so, the dinner wasn't anything about business. you did learn a ton from leo though! that was business enough wasn't it? still, you couldn't help the pang of guilt that came with not getting anything work-related done. it was practically in your genes as a roman.

"y/n! you should stay the night!" hazel encouraged from the sofa across you. she was met with choruses of yeahs! and you shoulds! by the other girls, including reyna.

"oh!" you laughed awkwardly, trying to think of a way to politely turn them down. as much as you would love to stay and get to know them, you had a job to do. even if that job was getting all the legionnaires in your cohort to bed by curfew. (like seriously, the amount of times you've had to reel in couples you caught sneaking out was crazy. maybe that's where your hatred came from.) "i'd love to, but i have... centurion duties and all that."

"but reyna has praetor duties and she's staying," annabeth argued. her gray eyes shone with an intensity you only saw on the battlefield. what was going on?

that was new information to you. "you're staying?" you questioned your friend, who looked away with a hint of embarrassment.

"jason's leaving soon," she coughed. after being apart for so long, you could hardly blame her for wanting a little more time with him. "but that's besides the point. you should stay."

you crossed your arms, trying to come up with another excuse. "uh, i don't have clothes to change into?" it was a weak attempt, but you hoped it would work.

"i can lend you some," hazel piped up from the side, obviously eager to make you stay.

aw. she was always so nice. but you had a feeling there was an underlying motive you just couldn't figure out.

you tried again. "i don't think there's a spare room for me to sleep in."

"there's an empty one by leo," piper pointed out.

well, that was it. they refuted all your claims and left you no choice but to stay. you heaved a sigh and relented. "fine."

you weren't sure how it happened, but you ended up with leo again. so much for girls night. but you couldn't complain, leo was good company. he never let the silence stew between you guys for too long, always switching between one topic to the next, until somehow, you were both talking shit about your pathetic love lives and the insufferable ones of those around you.

"you wouldn't believe how many times i've caught these people! i swear, they can never keep it in their pants for more than two seconds! it's like, trauma at this point!" you rolled your eyes, absolutely abhorring the new legionnaires in your cohort.

leo laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. he looked over his shoulder, before leaning in as if telling you a secret. "like two days ago, i caught jason and reyna making out! he had hickies all over his neck!"

you gasped at the scandalous behavior of the two most serious people you knew. "what!? no way..."

the curly-haired boy nodded vehemently. "yes way! it was so gross."

eventually, it was time for the both of you to say your goodnights. leo led you to your room, giving you a cheeky wink before he retreated into his own. you shut the door, and threw yourself into bed.

maybe it was the unfamiliar environment, maybe it was the fact that you were way up in the air, or maybe it was leo running circles around your mind. whatever the reason was, you couldn't sleep. or maybe you chose not to, just to have an excuse to see the stars. the time when they were out was the only time you'd allow yourself a break.

you crept out of the room, careful not to make noise as you made your way out onto the deck. the air was crisp, a gentle bite against your skin. it seemed that the god of the sky was on your side tonight, for the clouds were nowhere to be seen, only the full moon of artemis and the familiar stars shone. you made yourself comfy on the floor, leaning back against the railing as you took a deep breath.

it would be another night of no sleep for leo, that much he could tell. he groaned into his pillow. he couldn't tell if it was the new crush already forming on you, or his angst from a few days before. regardless, his nervous energy made him get up and pace the room, fidgeting with a screw he found on the floor. with footsteps light, he traveled the small area, before something told him to get some fresh air. he obliged. it was better than being in his stuffy room.

as he went up the stairs to the upper level, he caught sight of a figure in the distance. leo's curiosity spiked. he walked closer, the image of you coming into view. your eyes locked on his, a soft smile gracing your face at seeing him. "hey."

"hey." leo dipped his head in greeting, and sat down beside you. "mind if i sit here?"

you shook your head and returned your gaze to the starry night sky, a comfortable silence settling between you two, with only the tapping of leo's fingers against the floor filling the air. it was different, being alone with him. he seemed different. he was quieter, more mellow.

"i hate nights." leo blurted out, breaking the peace you two had shared.

"really?" you asked softly. he braced himself with the condescending remark that was sure to come after, but it never came. instead he received a genuine interest from you. "why's that?"

the boy felt his heart beat a little faster. was he really going to tell you, a girl he barely knew, his whole life story? perhaps it was the late hour that made him want to spill everything out. or the feeling that stirred whenever he looked at you, like magnets attracting. and so he did.

and you listened without any interruption, never followed up with that remark he was waiting for, never gave him the pity he hated. instead, you followed up with your own story.

"i love nights. for me, it's the only time i really feel free. when everyone else is asleep, and it's just you and the stars. away from all the rules." you looked up. they seemed so close from here, way up in the floating ship. they twinkled like glitter, flashing heys and hellos and nice to see you agains. it was beautiful.

leo admired you the way you did the stars. they reflected off your eyes and made your irises shine, the same way fire casted a diffused glow on everything around it. maybe nights weren't so bad after all, if every one of them would be spent with you.

and when you leaned against him to rest your head on his shoulder, whispering secrets into his ear? oh, caligula would have blushed. (leo knows he sure did)

"operation get leo a girlfriend, complete!"

"i thought we were calling it operation get y/n a boyfriend?"

"whatever. operation leoy/n is a success!"

"...you know we can hear you guys, right?"

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you 

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you 

dude 

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering 

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that 

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins 

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers 

wow 

fuck you

just landed 

thought you might like to know 

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess 

September 2021

dude enough okay 

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk 

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you   

November 2021 

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm 

idk why i’m trying again  

maybe i should block you 

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck 

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was 

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige 

merry christmas i guess

March 2022 

i misz you 

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich 

pkese pick up 

ignore that 

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you 

wait 

i don’t need to tell you that 

you already ignore it all anyways

 

August 2022 

i heard about the acl 

i’m sorry 

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm 

***

September 2022 

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more. 

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.  

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed. 

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake. 

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend. 

 “And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly. 

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly. 

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy. 

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else.  You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod. 

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it. 

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so,  “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest. 

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm. 

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.” 

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.  

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall. 

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free. 

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart. 

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.  

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it. 

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue. 

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

*** 

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet. 

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer. 

“You wanna see my dorm?” 

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice. 

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack. 

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile. 

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things. 

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts. 

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin. 

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten. 

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it. 

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force. 

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having. 

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself. 

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat. 

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota  state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy. 

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour. 

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other. 

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus. 

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk. 

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes. 

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.” 

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that. 

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together. 

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts. 

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard. 

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking. 

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane. 

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously,  “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches. 

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid. 

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost. 

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,”  Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be. 

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps. 

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on. 

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears. 

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back. 

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore. 

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need. 

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something.  It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi. 

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step. 

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile. 

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her. 

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.” 

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen. 

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her. 

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing  “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that. 

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?” 

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her. 

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away. 

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again. 

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?” 

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch. 

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people. 

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige. 

“You having fun?” 

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface. 

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together. 

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste. 

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths. 

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety. 

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back. 

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall. 

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that. 

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly. 

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable. 

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing. 

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed. 

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it. 

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.” 

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it. 

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear. 

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most. 

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck. 

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s. 

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up. 

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance. 

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

[bowieandqueen11]

Resolved Issues / Roman Roy Imagine

Request: HIIIII gonna send my succession request while i still can lol.

how about roman and reader sharing childhood stories? him realising that perhaps, maybe the way his family has treated him is tiny bit Not Normal. the reader being somewhere between "oh my god let me give you a hug" and "i just might fight logan roy in the parking lot". yknow good old hurt/comfort you do it like no other

Thank you so much sweetie!! But also yes I feel this in my soul frick Logan Roy lmao 

Warning: strong language. mentions of diarrhoea and mentions of child abuse/ physical abuse! 

This 3k beast took quite a while to write, so feedback is appreciated! Thank you! :)

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @loverboyromanroy.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Roman shrugs his shoulders and looks steadily at you, straight into your eyes.

‘The fuck- how should I know? Like... twenty three, ish?’

Roman’s perching on the edge of his own sofa, so obviously uncomfortable even in his own apartment. His wrist flicks as he answers, and a few drops of the whiskey he hasn’t touched comes sloshing round the side to stain his brand new eggshell blue decorative pillows. He had never cared much for property. But then again, he hadn’t cared much for whiskey either growing up; it had been his father’s drink of choice, and therefore his. The faint fire in the cold marble fireplace behind his head licks between his ears, and illuminates the confused amusement gleaming in his eyes.

You scoff, and shake your head at him incredulously. ‘You own twenty three houses, and you choose to live here?’ Awaiting an answer you know will be even more ridiculous, you make an effort to tuck your legs criss-cross under you, and sit with your knees resting just underneath Roman’s lower legs. ‘And yet you still live in the coldest ass apartment, I swear to god I’m freezing my ass off, and that’s even with the fire going. Are you a fucking yeti or something, Roman Roy?’

He chortles as you continue: ‘you thrive in colder climates, huh? That’s not surprising, considering a glare from your father could freeze hell over.’ You take a final sip of your drink before reaching over and placing it on the sleek black coffee table; Roman’s eyes drop for a split second as if almost in despondency, some kind of deep scarred sorrow peeking its way out like a tired child, before rising back to yours, seeking comfort. It doesn’t slip your attention. You make sure your fingers brush against his socks as you slip your hands back to your lap, and give a sweet squeeze to the tippy toes. He lets out a giggle and kicks his foot out at you, and it’s the most delightful sound you’d ever hear: that true, unadulterated happiness that Roman Roy rarely ever is permitted to have, without some kind of malicious intention lurking behind it.

‘Okay, well, one’, he ostentatiously holds a finger up by twirling it in the air, and it takes you a second to realise he’s pointedly showing you his middle finger. ‘Fuck you. Two-’, he decides to count with his pinkie finger, ‘my dad owns twenty three hours, I own approximately zero fucking squilch of that. And three, I’m a fucking incredible designer - see that Feng Shui over there? All me baby, I would have fucking killed it as an interior design.’

‘Having one sad as fuck looking potted plant by the window and literally no personal items doesn’t count as Feng Shui, dumbass. You’re just sad.’

‘Okay - well - if you’re such a smartass-’, Roman winds his hands up by his head but nearly lets the crystal glass his brother had bought him for his last birthday fall onto the hardwood floor, so he grimaces and gently places it on the rug. He turns back to glance at you, and despite the fact he’s positioning himself as if he’s conducting an interview: elbows resting on knees with hands clasped out before him, face set in stone, he still looks intent and truthfully curious about the answer he’s hoping you’ll give. ‘What was your childhood home like then? I’m sure full of unicorns that shart rainbows and fucking fairies that sneeze glitter from the way you hate my deco.’

You pause to think for a minute, not fully expecting such an honest question to come from Roman Roy. You place a finger gingerly against your lip, and in that second, perched up on the edge of the pristine settee, Roman wishes he could just leap over and replace your fingertip with his lips. He had never been so entranced by someone: never had the privilege of knowing someone from this corporate world who would be so truthful, so different from him. And yet, at the same time, someone who so deliciously, so crudely, so cruelly reminded him of the young child locked in the cage within his heart: so unknowingly let him cling onto the little bit of him he had tried to keep alive. The only bit of him left that wasn’t a Roy. That was just Roman.

Yet, even in the hope that clouded his mind as he awaited your answer, your words came like slices to slit against his throat. ‘Well, I suppose my home was... well, not to sound pedestrian, or super corny, but it was a happy one?’ He nodded, content to bleed out in front of you. ‘There was usually a lot of laughter, and of course a lot of stress, but you know. We could all rely on each other. It was... yeah, it was nice.’ You stop, biting your bottom lip and switching your legs around so you could raise them up and pull them against your chest. 

You didn’t want to look at the man sitting before you suddenly. It was as if he had regressed into himself as you went along: withering, shivering slightly like a frosty chill over an empty playground. It looked - it felt unnatural, as he stared at you without seeing. He blinked languidly for a moment, soaking in your words, before jutting his bottom lip out and trying his best to grin at you. ‘Well, my childhood wasn’t so horrid either. My brother took me and Ken camping once, and although it was fucking sleeting down like bullets of pure fucking ice down by the stream, Connor did eat a fish that looked like a mouldy shoe and spent most of the night running off into the woods holding his ass.’

He snorts then, his little high pitched hyena laugh bubbling out of him as he places the back of his hand against his lips to try and hold it in, and you can’t help but laugh along with him at the sorry image of the supposed Roy brother patriarch scuttling around like a crab with diarrhoea. 

‘That’s sweet, but do you have any other actual memories with your family where someone isn’t being ridiculed?’

‘Woah, hey-’, he holds both his hands up, and slides down from the armrest to come sit in front of you. ‘When you meet my brother, you’ll understand that he deserves it.’ You flush slightly at the implication, becoming rather uncharacteristically bashful around Roman, and glancing quickly down between your legs. Pulling at a thread until it becomes loose, you pray the timid fire glow is enough to hide from him the rushing heat crawling up your neck. Due to the fact that Roman also is shyly looking down at the toes he’s currently wiggling to busy himself, you both miss the way the other is blushing. 

‘But...uh’, he starts finally after a moment of contemplation: a blessed few minutes of serendipitous indulgence, of growing warmth and familiarity, and just enough time for the two of you to realise how much your presence and conversation had only furthered endeared the two of you to each other, despite the hint of sadness that laced it. 

‘I really - I mean, my dad was like, always busy.’ He scratches the back of his head, embarrassed by the way you tilt your head and look quizzically at him. He becomes hyper aware of how close his knee is to resting against yours, and decides to swallow the fear that seems to be clogging up the back of his throat, and shuffles forward until there’s finally contact. ‘And my brother was like, following in his footsteps and all that jazz’, his eyes widen as he holds his hands out by his side. ‘So there wasn’t really much time for... fun, I guess. Or mistakes. Or family.’

It breaks your heart to watch him deflate once he finishes speaking, and suddenly the austere, cold walls and empty, hollow halls of his apartment make all the more sense. He looks so worn out, so tired of having to hide himself away behind a big, empty mansion full of props and antiques and nothingness all put out for show, because that’s what he was. That’s how he saw himself. A big, empty, tired, twisted puppet trying to bend over backwards to escape the marionette strings of daddy’s love, not realising they’re choking him. It was a strategy, a way to protect himself: to become placid, to mask yourself as being one of them, to fit in with his father’s lifestyle, and maybe then the slaps and strikes and kicks and whimpers would feel like something good. Because he’s trying to be just like his father. So if he’s hit, it’s only because the puppet hasn’t quite danced to the right tune, that’s all. 

As you glance around, you finally begin to notice how unused all the furniture in Roman’s apartment looks: the cellarette by the bar that looks as if it had been varnished yesterday, to the large screen television on the either side of the elongated room that Roman clearly only put on once a night to watch the news, to the velvet cushioned armchair positioned to sweep out and look across the skyline of the city, yet the headrest didn’t even have a dent. All these things. All this barrenness. It made you sick to your stomach. Here he was: a toy left on the shelf to collect dust, taken out to play with only when it suited the puppet master, and he was still so desperate for love that he still tried to copy his father. 

And you could see from the way his eyes were beginning to turn blood shot as he slowly sat there and turned the cogs in the back of his brain over, that this was a thought he had had many times before.

You try your best not to look at him too pitifully, in case he might take offence and retreat back into his shell again when you hold out your hands to him. He swallows thickly, watching your every movement as your fingers unfurl over his knees, and you signal at him to come closer. For a moment, as he squints his eyes at you, he seems tentative. But then you roll your eyes, trying your best to still seem casual, and flutter your fingers at him again. 

It takes less than a second for him to latch on this time, and his fingers grip into the sides of your skin so tightly you’re afraid he may draw blood. But then, you suppose, that’s all he’s been familiarised with.

‘It’s fine, I’m fine’, he tries to shrug it off, but his fingers only squeeze into yours all the more desperately. Worried he’ll try and pull away if you keep them suspended between your touching knees, you slowly pull them down to rest on your lap as he continues talking. He begins to play with your fingers almost subconsciously, looping them through his stout ones. ‘I mean, sure, my earliest memory is Shiv trying to drown me in the pool because she didn’t want so many older brothers to take all of daddy’s attention away from her. And Ken was never really present, dad was always shipping him away to some conference training or having him sit at his feet like his lap dog, but it’s fine. I’m fine. I grew up to be a well adjusted adult without any concerning issues at all.’

Although his tone is mocking, once he’s finished his rambling thought he lets go of your hand to rub his eyes. He does a half-yawn to try and cover the fact that they’re becoming rather bleary - to hide the fact that this is beginning to get at him, actually. And he’d rather stop now, if that’s alright. He’s the jokester in the family. The happy man. The go to cheer-upper. The pathetic one. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to cry in front of you. He was never allowed to cry.

He jumps when he feels your hand against his knee, and he sniffles slightly when he looks down and sees you’ve leaned closer towards him. ‘And your dad?’, you ask quietly, cautiously, pulling the hand of his you were still holding tightly into your sternum. ‘What was he like growing up?’

‘Well, I was annoying. I- I am annoying, so, you know-’

He chokes then, and this time he can’t stop the sob that breaks out from the back of his throat like an overdue bell chime.

‘I’m annoying. I’m fucking annoying, you know that?’, he chokes out between sobs, doubling over on himself, but he’s still laughing between each gasping breathe. ‘I’m such a piece of shit’, he states, doing his best to stop his lip from wobbling and the tears from clouding out of his eyes, but he doesn’t complain when you take your hand off his lap and guide it to the small of his back, just before the dip in his shoulder blades. Gently - ever so gently, as if you were cradling a new born child still so unused to human touch, you guide him down to lie on your legs. He goes easily, taking his hands back to lean them under his chin, and allowing you full utility of your fingers. You put them to good use, beginning to stoke back stray curls of his mother’s hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear until his breathing evens again.

He watches the sun fall over the edge of the Waystar Royco building: a sight he has seen many times before, but one that feels all the more eerie as the slates of dark metal blot out the light like a flashy tomb.

You bring him back, pursing your lips together and trying not to laugh sorrowfully as he sneezes at the feel of your finger moving down his forehead to trace over the dip of his nose, and evidently tickle it. You move onto the curve of his left eye, and it fills you with at least a little comfort to notice the way he squeezes his eyes shut at the movement. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks of his eyes and began to trace down the old bruised shaped hollows of his cheeks.

‘God Roman’, you choke out, trying to gently turn his head so he’s looking up at you. For a moment, he throws a tantrum and shakes his head in refusal, but your fingers are unrelenting and all forgiving against the side of his jaw, and soon he can’t help but give in to the love he’s so desperately begging for. He allows you to turn him, still squirming in your touch, until the two of you make eye contact. And there’s such naivety there, such desire and craving and conviction and belief as he keeps his eyes trained wholly on yours, that the words just come tumbling out of your mouth.

‘I’m going to fight your whole family I swear. I’m going to fight them all, one by one, and then take over Waystar, maybe find out what the fuck is going on between this Cousin of yours and Shiv’s husband’, he chortles at that, and chokes a little, ‘and then the two of us can burn the place to the ground and ride off into the sunset.’

Although he feels only elation at your words, he starts to shake when you use the pads of his thumbs to gently, tenderly wipe the tears away from beside his nose.

‘Stop, please’, he whimpers, but you know he’s not talking about your physical actions. ‘My dad’s never going to die, even if he is gone. Just- just- get out while you can, okay? Just fucking run.’ He grabs up at your hands, and holds onto one intently. ‘Just fucking go, okay, because I will destroy you. I’m- fucking poison, alright?’

‘No, no’, you state more firmly, when you see the creases in his forehead begin to appear. He shakes his head, and his whole face crinkles up when you admit the one thing left unspoken between the two of you.

‘You - you’re worth it. You’re worth putting up with all of this for, Roman Roy. One day, you’ll be free, and we’ll get to make new memories. Better ones.’

‘Just shut up. Shut the fuck up. Please. Just-’

His words die out on his mouth when you lean down swiftly and replace them with your waiting lips. His hand falls from where it was encircling your wrist, and after a moment of stunned shock, comes up to press firmly against the nape of your neck. His widened eyes melt slowly into a blissful, languid close, and despite the fact that he has no fucking idea how to actually kiss someone he cares about, he does a mighty good job of latching onto your bottom lip and whimpering when you go to pull away.

‘You promise’, he whispers into the tense air between the tip of your nose and the side of his stubble. He leans up to kiss you again, and a bite of saltiness stings at your mouth. ‘You promise’, he murmurs again as he opens his mouth, refusing to break away from the kiss: instead breathing you in and licking the tip of his tongue against your own. Steadying yourself, you grip onto his biceps, and press a last, ardent kiss to his mouth by latching onto his top lip.

‘I swear, Roman, I swear to god I’m going to make up for all the lack of love your family has given you. And I’ll start right now.’

[hughiecampbelle]

Succession Preference: Handmade Presents From S/O

Requested: Preference: How the Siblings react to their S.O giving them a handmade gift? (maybe a bouquet of flowers they thoughtfully picked out at a florist themselves, baked goods, a coffee/tea mug they decorated or a homemade meal?) i hope this sounds good!! ♡ - anon

A/N: This is so cute my love!!!! Thank you for requesting!!! I really hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Connor appreciates your home cooked meals to no end. He thanks you forever. It doesn't matter if it took hours or thirty minutes, Connor won't let you live it down. He brags to his siblings all the time about how thoughtful and caring and considerate you are. You try to shrug it off like it's nothing, but he won't have that. Seriously. The only time he ever got anything home cooked was when he was a little kid, maybe once a year if his mother made him eggs or a grilled cheese. You go above and beyond when you cook. You never mind, you love sharing it with him. He compliments everything, making you laugh. Food is how you show your love. Sometimes, when you have the time, you make extra and send it with him to give to his brothers and sister. They love it, too. It's like they've never eaten before. They're all full of compliments and it makes them like you even more, which doesn't hurt either.

Kendall loves when you bake anything, but especially when you bake something he loves. You've been doing this since you were dating, but now that you're married it's become a rare occurrence. With work and life you don't always have the time. When you do, you like to send him to the office with everyone's favorites. Logan's blueberry muffins, Gerri's lemon squares, Karl's cinnamon rolls. You make extras of Kendall's favorites so he can have them at home and at work, surprising him when he gets home and the Tupperware is empty. It makes him feel so loved, so appreciated. He's a menace in the kitchen, always wanting to taste the raw batter and lick the icing. When you do it, it means you really thought about him, what he likes, what makes him happy. Not many people have done that in his life. But you? You make time for him and his happiness and that is priceless. It reminds him that he is capable of being loved.

Shiv isn't sure what to say. It's perfect. A bouquet of all her favorite flowers and colors in a vase she didn't even know either of you owned. Next to it is a little card with her name wishing her a good day. It sits on her office desk, just waiting for her. No one had ever done anything like this for her. Not her family, not Tom. She wasn't even sure he knew any one of her favorite flowers, and yet you had them all. You didn't sign the card, but you didn't have to. Tears well up in her eyes, but she's quick to blink them away. It's beautiful. She doesn't want to touch it or move it out of fear that petals might fall off. Once word spreads that you got specialized flowers sent to the office, the jokes start flowing in. She doesn't care what anyone has to say about this, especially her father and brothers. She feels so loved and seen, the most she's ever felt in her life. When she gets home she talks lightly of it, thanking you, but you can see the smile she's trying to hide. This small act means the world to her.

Roman is shocked. He doesn't know what to say. You start to feel insecure, like this wasn't something he'd like let along love. Under the ribbon and wrapping paper is a handmade mug with the date you officially became a couple. It was a little misshapen, but other than that it was perfect. You'd picked out the perfect color palette, too. All his favorite colors. No one had ever done anything like this for him before. No one has ever thought about him so thoughtfully. Roman holds out his hands, careful, scared he's going to break it. He looks it over a few times and holds it close before realizing who he's supposed to be. This fucking thing, it's, it's- thank you. That's the last thing he says about it. You catch him using it almost every day, holding it with both hands, hand washing it. He truly loves it. So much. It's his most prized possession. He never says anything about it again, though you catch him going through every cupboard looking for it, mumbling to himself. It's right in front of you, Rome. He breathes a huge sigh of relief. If he lost it or broke it he's not sure what he'd do.

[palaceofpassion]

What if both of their teams are after something similar? Maybe JNPR is sent to deal with Roman and his cronies, who happen to have something that Nicole wants, an heirloom perhaps.

They split up with Jaune teaming with Billy. It will be just two bros talking about their favorite heroes.

//Spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen Billy's trust event yet.

TW: Graphic violence.

BANG

The bandit went down without much of a fight, despite gods knows where he was, it seemed that humans were still humans. The android's yellow visual sensors continued to scan the area, no longer picking up any other life forms. Well other than the several dead bandits with holes in their heads. Though he'd hardly call them life forms anymore.

"This place is weird..." For some reason, he knew that this wasn't anywhere on his planet. As odd as that sounded, when he and the other Hares had entered that last companion Hollow, they'd found themselves separated from Phaethon, Eous was nowhere in sight, and somehow they'd ended up in a lush green mountain range. Something that was... unlike anything they'd been around before. Anby suggested it was another world, like her movies.

They were definitely not in the outlands, and the people here seemed different. It took them a while to realize that they all had some form of barrier over them, nothing the skilled Gentle House couldn't overcome. But it was still a strange phenomena. Unfortunately for Billy, somewhere along the way he'd gotten separated from Nicole, Anby, and Nekomata... leaving him alone and cornered.

Though, cornered wasn't exactly what he'd called it. Originally he'd shot their strange and overly complicated weapons out of their hands, and had requested they surrender. When they opted to laugh at his silly charade, well... he didn't like giving second chances.

"Shit." he muttered to himself, having slipped back into his olden days. Gone for a brief moment was the silly goofy Starlight Knight wannabe, and back was the red devil from the Outlands. "Didn't... want to do that." He hated who he was, hated how he used to be.

Though he could remember only so far, when Big Sis' predecessor had picked him off the scrap yard, he could clearly see everything after. Still remember the scent of blood, the feeling of it corroding his metallic parts... so all of him.

God he missed the others, hopefully he'd be able to find them.

Though, while meandering in his thoughts, he'd failed to notice, at least at first, the hulking black bear charging at him. The blood and negative feelings had lured in a rather large Ursa Major, not that he'd know what that is of course.

The beast's claws roared back as it prepared to strike him down. Only for a shout to come in the distance, "Watch out!"

Though it was hardly needed. Billy was far too quick on his feet, and his finger was always itching against the trigger. BANG

Before it could even strike him, the extremely heavy bullet pierced through its white plated skull, leaving a rather large gaping hole that dust rounds could only dream of doing. "Tch, easy~" The sound of another person had pulled him back from his dilemma. "Though hopefully I'll have enough rounds while I'm here."

Thankfully they'd prepared plenty, on a rare occasion, they actually had the money. So Nicole had decided to splurge, like she always did, and well they prepared some high quality ammo and polishes in high amounts!

"Phew, thanks kid." He called out to the young blonde man making his way over. Though perhaps blonde wasn't right? His hair seemed faded, almost a ghostly white, and he sure as heck did have a strand of white hair down the center of his slicked back do.

"Ah, yeah, no problem."

His voice also felt... tired, fatigued. And for some reason, the kid title didn't seem to fit, though Billy couldn't quite put his finger on it as to why not.

Though, for a split second, he saw something. A glint of happiness, of excitement as he looked at Billy carefully, "Whoa, wait a moment."

Jaune didn't really recognize what Billy was at first, but he did notice that he was garbed in a rather familiar get up. Though not exactly, he looked like a hero from one of his favorite comics, one he hadn't been able to keep up with in a long time.

"Are you a hero fan?!"

Billy blinked, somehow, before smiling, somehow. "You know it! I'm the Starlight Knight! Billy Kid!" Of course he went to make his makeshift poses, spinning his twin ladies around. "Pleasure to meet you."

Jaune smiled, "That's so cool, the name is Jaune, Jaune Arc."

Though it wasn't just Jaune that felt something of a sense of kinship, "Yo! Are you a knight?! ARE there knights here?!"

That would be super cool! Maybe Anby wasn't wrong! Maybe they really DID end up in another world, or maybe this was the past! Though... those guys had guns, really ineffective guns, but they were guns!

"Ah, haha, no, I... don't think I could ever be a knight."

The two of them stared in silence, though Jaune couldn't help but eye the scene before him. A small grimace overcoming his face as the bloodshed... though even he noticed how precise and evenly done every shot was, right between the eyes, not a single miss. That was... some scary accuracy. Even more since he was JUST using guns... and the fact that he took how that Ursa Major in one shot, whatever those bullets were, they were some seriously dangerous stuff.

Hopefully this guy wasn't an enemy.

"So uh... what are you doing all the way out here." He questioned, unsure of where to go. By himself, he doubted he'd stand much of a chance against this stranger if things came down to it. But... he couldn't help but feel like things wouldn't go that way.

"Lost." Was a simple answer, but hey it was true! "Got separated from my teammates. No idea where they are, or where here is, if I'm being honest. We were in a Hollow, got lost from our Proxy, and ended up... here? We got jumped by bandits, got separated, and uh you found me here, told me about that ethereal... odd looking one though, and well now here we are."

"Proxy, Hollow? What are those?" He'd never heard of those before. "And that was a Grimm, not an ethereal. Whatever that is."

"Oh, joy. Anby was right..." Oh god, Anby was right, she wasn't going to let him live this one down. "Ah crud."

Jaune wasn't sure what an Anby was, but hey, he could at least offer him a place for now. Hopefully they could find his friends soon.

[pocketwei]

hii do you perhaps have any dofuwani fics recommendation. I've checked out the the ao3 but I really don't seem to like anything there after scrolling thru the most kudos'd works... I feel like you (and a few other artists) get them and I wanted to read things in a similar tone as your art and so far I'm in the trenches bleeding out. like obviously no offense to any of the writers it's just that all the like modern highschool loving dad croc and etc aus are not for me... OTL I hope I'm not sounding rude and thank you for your time!

oh anon come rest your head upon my bosom.... I got you anon..... as a fellow slave to canon-compliance I, too, know the pain of sifting through pages upon pages of AUs, not that there's anything wrong with them but I just can't imagine these sickos working a 9 to 5 in a suit...... thank you for thinking my vision of dofuwani is trust-worthy, this is vain on my part but it genuinely means a lot <3 OK rant over here are the goods, in no particular order (always mind the tags but I figure if you asked me for dfwn sacred texts you're probably a fellow sicko):

that was now and this is then. by ghostwit (M): one of my favourite ever, perhaps even my favourite. About a long relationship, about twisting each other inside the skin, about being formative to each other in ways so deep and intertwined that they can't seem to tear one apart from the other. And despite it all* (*the murders and the hatred and the irreconciliable flaws and differences of their Ego (philosophical) and the unbearable, unacceptable vulnerability of understanding), they are, somehow, unforgivably and incomprehensibly, in love. *smashes head against pavement, it cracks open like an egg, spilling millions of dofuwani thoughts everywhere

no better irony by ghostwit (E): shichibukai meeting sidequest...... excellent characterisation like everything Haze writes (it's just The Best dofuwani there is..... read everything he wrote please). I'm so fond of them in that fic in a way that's like. watching stick bugs in a terrarium. You don't understand them and they don't understand you but you're just happy they're having fun. You wouldn't join in for anything in the world though.

like i need a gaping headwound by ghostwit (M): loguetown era dfwn, Haze back at it with formative years and the fresh sprouts of insanity in these two. So so so good.

nothing in this world that's quite prescribable by ghostwit (T): the opening of this fic is perhaps one of my favourite scenes ever. Vulnerability and odd transparence that only drunken disinhibition allows. Which is rare for these two. Absolutely adore this one.

honestly you can and should read everything Haze has written for these two they're just so AUGHHHHHH

black & bloody & rotten & perfect by revolvermonkcelot (M): perfect capture of the fine line between (????love, perhaps) and insanity they walk on. Absolutely fucking insane about this one, the reverence and sacrality of their whole thing, the Indulgence:tm: and permission that can be revoked (for Crocodile is mercurial in his vulnerability), but that is somehow maintained in a delicate and incomprehensible equilibrium. + absolutely incredible undertones of wani (trans)identity crisis, the imperceptible yet meaningful and constant change of the Form... Head in hands

Just a taste by marimoes (M): perfect perfect perfect characterisation, little gestures that betray familiarity. Perfect on all accounts

Swallow by revolvermonkcelot (M): my roman empire. Absolutely perfect Wani characterisation, it's The Wani for me. Exploits perfectly the essential dfwn dichotomy of "one entity tumbling down and the other rising up, meeting halfway through in the eye of the storm, in a singular moment". Classy cannibalism that ties to the no-less essential concept of consumption, to be/become whole again. The reason why they somehow stick together is because of this primordial longing for something, for understanding perhaps, for beauty sometimes, for belonging. Fcuking hell I love them so mucj

A Bird and His Cage by doctornemesis (E): read this one a long time ago but it's in my bookmarks so I trust past me's judgment and tell you it's amazing

From Dressrosa with Love by Sibilans (E, on-going): incredible atmosphere, perfectly depicts the post-golden age rotting glamour of Dressrosa. They are particularly unhinged in this one.

i wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name by stealth-black-leg (Kiir_Bee) (E): I'm running out of steam for long meaningful comments but this one has top tier characterisation.

That's it!! Don't forget to comment and leave kudos to give writers the love they deserve <3

[angelicsjn]

What are the guys ideal first dates?

YOUR FIVE YANDERES

— ROMAN CORNELIUS JAMES BEAUREGARD.

Roman is a man of taste, fine taste at that!

In a general and sweet relationship, the ideal relationship he will take you around the world as he races, kissing you in front of the crowds and cameras after he wins and then taking you out on the night life.

Monaco nights on yachts drinking champagne, Paris nights in pretty restaurants, Italy walks while eating ice cream and holdings hands, ignoring the cameras.

Roman would take you to events, fashion, and sporting events. Taking you to golf when he gets offered to play for charity. His dates usually revolve around his work. He's so busy and rarely finds free time, so he makes sure to include you in as much as he can.

During the winter breaks, you go skiing and snowboarding with him, living in expensive cabins for a few weeks. Away from the world where you both can be yourselves.

In the Summer, you experience all the great things the hotter countries have to offer. Visiting all the historical places in Greece, going on hikes and falling asleep during mindnumbing professional massages.

He lives expensively, and he wants to share all these moments with you.

As for the first date? A fancy meal made by a private chef on one of his yachts in Monaco. Candles, sunsets, nice music, perfect meal. He even knew your favourite meal, how sweet.

— LATEN REED.

Laten is a lot more lowkey than our Formula 1 star. He's a university student who spends most of his time in the gym, training and playing rugby, so when he gets a break from studying and rugby, he takes advantage of it.

He loves simple dates: cinema, arcade, fast food restaurants, walks around the town, and the nature reserves nearby.

For his ego, he likes gym dates. You don't even have to join in, give him compliments and boost his confidence.

His most favourite type of dates is ordered food, shitty movies while in bed with you. Facemasks, he lets you do his nails and eyebrows too, likes to relax and gives you small kisses as you pamper each other. Cuddles with you and traces his fingers across your back as you sleep and he feels so happy you feel comfortable enough to sleep by him. <3

Laten is a gigantic sweetheart and loves nothing more than to spend time with you. Anywhere is a good date for him. Even if it's at McDonald's, if it's with you, he likes it.

As for the first date? You watch him at one of his matches. Instead of him celebrating with his team, he whisks you away to his favourite restaurant, its small and tucked away in the town, a hidden gem. He pays for everything, you dance to the music together and he walks you home, both giggly from the drinks.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

Due to being a famous idol, he has to be discreet. Wearing masks, caps, and oversized hoodies. To you, he's Jae. To the world, he's Niko, and he doesn't want to mix those two identities.

Jae likes late night dates. Late night drives around the city, stopping at drive thrus, eating food as he drives, and then watching the sky from the hills where it's quiet.

Karaoke dates where he rents the room out for as long as he can so you both can privately spend time together, dancing, eating, singing and enjoying your time together.

In the summer, you drive out as far as possible, in nature with a picnic where it's sunny and bright and without risk of being caught. He takes advantage of the countryside during the summer, knowing it'll be only you both where he doesn't have to be anyone but himself.

When he gets days off, he stays in bed, forcing you to stay in bed with him as long as possible, cuddling you and pressing kisses against your shoulders. Following you around the place like a lost puppy because if he's got a day off, he will be glued by your side. No matter what.

As for the first date? He picks you up and takes you out to a private restaurant where he buys a separate room to have your privacy. He then drives around with you, doing some sightseeing since he's rarely able to go out at all unless with security.

— KAIDAN ALEXANDER WOLFE.

He's a showoff, anywhere the cameras will be. Influencer interviews on the sidewalks where he holds your hand extra tight. Even if you're shy, he'll show you off, "Yeah, we're on a date." Kaidan is nonchalant about it, but he shows you off as much as he can.

Photobooth pictures he posts on his story, clubs and bars where he holds onto your waist and uses the crowds as an excuse to hold onto you, Italian restaurants where he kisses your knuckles gently, sharing kisses that taste of wine.

Kaidan takes you to his events, dressing you up, matching you with his fit, and making sure the headlines will state how you're the best-looking couple.

Takes you to big family dinners, holding your hand under the table and showing off any and all of your accomplishments. Slow dancing with you as his family secretly plan your wedding, because they've never seen Kaidan so in love before.

As for the first date? He takes you out to an event, something he knew you'd like. Even though it's the first date, and you weren't officially dating, he allows photos to be spread around with the title: 'Kaidan Wolfe's New Relationship?' Hard to say no to him when the world said yes.

— HAYDEN WEST.

The sweetest of them all, in my opinion.

He makes lists based on what you like. All his dates are things he knew you'd like.

Do you like art? He knows a few great museums. Books? There's this amazing bookstore nearby. He's been there before and loved it. Walks in nature? He loves nature, too. He can take photos while out! Clubs and bars? Not his thing, but if you like it, so does he!

He does everything in your favour, sort of let's you decide.

But if he had full control, he'd pick simple bookstore dates and cafe dates, especially cat cafes. Museums, historical and artistic, anywhere you could possibly both learn something. He's a nerd at heart and definitely pulls you out to see all the new Marvel and DC movies.

As for the first date? Definitely a picnic by the local river, he buys non-alcoholic wine, all your favourite foods and snacks, he knows them all. Even if you never actually told him that..

[jxtina-86]

The Request

Part of the Roman/Katherine series. Started writing this ages ago and finally finished it after many, many attempts and changes.

Thank you to @thesamoanqueen for being the best sounding board the other day. And for digging out the photo.

Songs referenced:

Skunk Anansie 'Weak' Lethal Bizzle 'Fester Skank' Remix Ft. Stormzy, Chip, Fuse ODG & Wretch 32

Warning: Sexual content

Rating: MA

Likes/reblogs/comments always welcome...

****

As he enters the apartment, Roman can hear the faint beat of music coming from beyond the lounge. He shifts his suitcase into its usual space by the door and slides his backpack to the floor. 

"Kat?" he calls out. But there's no reply from wherever she is.

Heading towards the kitchen, he opens the refrigerator and then closes it when he says the open bottle of red wine and an empty glass on the kitchen counter. He takes the invitation and pours himself a glass before taking it, and the bottle, in search of Katherine. He follows the sound of the music, passing the room she uses as an office. The door is open - her laptop glows softly in the dimness. He can see an open document on the screen and the remains of a late snack on the desk.

He continues towards the music and nudges open the half-closed door to Katherine's bedroom. It's empty, but there's a path of discarded clothes that must have been hastily removed leading him to the bathroom and from within, he can now make out the music - and her voice.

Weak as I am Am I too much for you? 

He crosses the room as quietly as he can, but there isn't any need as she's too wrapped up in the song to notice anything else. He pauses at the bathroom door and slowly eases it open.

The smell of oranges hits him, a scent he's all too familiar with from pressing his face against her neck, breasts, stomach, thighs. Fuck, he's missed her. Leaning against the doorframe, he breathes in both the smell and sight of her at last.

The bath is luxuriously deep and he can see her sunken in its depths, only the top of her head and hands visible. It takes all his strength not to join her - not yet anyway. So instead, he watches her hand twist in the air to the beat of the music whilst the other cradles a half-drunk glass of wine.

The song fades into another and he chuckles to himself - her playlist choices are certainly eclectic. As he discovered a few months ago when she picked him up from the airport one evening, her playlist can flow from 90s rock to hip-hop to ballads to pop in the blink of an eye and it seems her bath time soundtrack is no different. He shakes his head in amusement as Katherine shifts in the bath, her head nodding along with the beat as her voice picks up the lyrics.

He takes a swig of wine, enjoying watching her uninhibited. He rarely gets an opportunity to see her unaware of his presence. Usually, when he arrives back, she's opening the door before he's even up the stairs and they are wrapped up in each other for the rest of the night and the few days they have together. He half-wonders why tonight is different, but at the same time, he's happy to watch and observe for a few moments longer.

Katherine raises her glass, swirling the contents for a moment before she decides to drain the remains. Her head rolls back against the edge of the bath for a second as she nods along to the beat, biting her lip, before she smirks to herself, the lyrics to the song spilling from her mouth with ease.

Tryna stand her ground, make her knees cave in  That ring says she must be married  When I was banging her to Drake, she said "trust mi daddy" 

A hand slips over hers and she shrieks. "FUCK!"

The bath water threatens to cascade onto the floor as her eyes flash open and she sees Roman looming over her.

He chuckles, unabashed. "Sorry, sorry." He slips the glass from her grip with ease and refills it for her.

Katherine takes a shaky breath, her heart still doing double-time from the shock. She leans over the bath and finds her phone to hit pause on the playlist. Straightening, she accepts the now full glass of wine back from him. "How long have you been stood there?"

"A few minutes," he grins. "You were in your own little world and I didn't want to interrupt."

He settles against the vanity, placing the bottle next to him and taking a sip from his glass. She takes a longer drink, her eyes not moving from him as she takes in his trademark dark sweats, the beanie, the hood pulled up over his head - his usual travel get-up. Whilst she fully appreciates how damn fine he looks when suited and booted, there is just something even more delicious about him in casual gear.

She catches his eyes drift from her face briefly and they darken as they flicker over her body only half-shielded by the bubbles in the bath.

"You wanna join me?" she asks, bending her legs to show there’s room for him. "It's still warm…"

She barely gets the words out before he reaches for the back of his hoodie and tugs it up and over his head. The beanie comes with it, exposing the thick knot of hair at the base of his neck. She laughs as within quick succession, his sneakers are kicked off and his pants are pushed to the floor.

Katherine drops her head to one side, taking in his height and breadth - a sight that she hasn't seen in person for almost a month. She bites her lip as her eyes drift down his body and she catches a glimpse of something else she's also missed. The video calls and photos she's received from him, really do not do him any justice, she thinks with a smirk.

As he steps into the bath, she scoots back to make room for him but it's a pointless move as the second he's sat opposite her, he's reaching for her. Pulling her upright, he brushes a loose tendril of hair from her cheek and then cups the back of her neck as he pulls her closer for a kiss. She sighs against his lips, her hand sliding over his shoulder.

"Fuck, I've missed you," Roman hears himself murmur as he pulls back at last.

"I missed you too," she replies, her fingers brushing over his beard.

As she shifts back into her previous spot, Roman's hand slips under the water. He finds a foot and tugs it up onto his chest, his large hand holding it firm as his thumb presses into the sole in slow, deep circles. He watches Katherine's eyes close for a second, her head dropping back against the edge of the bath.

"I didn't mean to still be in the bath," she murmurs, her eyes still closed.

"Do you see me complaining?" He lets go of her foot, but it continues to rest on his chest as he reaches into the water for the other. He works the flesh slowly, watching her features relax.

She nods. “I lost track of time.”

“The same work in progress you mentioned the other day?”

She nods again, opening her eyes to look at him. “It’s not as forthcoming as I’d like.”

“Well, I’m here for inspiration,” he winks at her.

“You might regret saying that.”

“I’ve never regretted fucking you, baby girl.”

She chuckles. “Are you serious?”

“About what? Fucking you? Deadly serious,” he grins.

“No. What you said about being here for inspiration.” She eyes him carefully. “Because I could do with that.”

“I’m here, ready and waiting,” Roman replies, dropping his voice an octave lower and smirking as he sees her eyes darken. “What d’you need, baby girl?”

She chews her lip. “What’s the freakiest thing you’ve ever done?”

“Excuse me?” He chuckles. “That’s what you need? My past escapades?”

She pouts. “I’ll tell you mine.”

“And will that be something you’ve written about or…” he grins as she pokes him in the chest with her toe. “Alright, alright.” He scrapes a hand over his face. “I mean, how freaky do you want?”

“You tell me.”

He eyes her carefully as he licks his lips debating whether to tell the truth or hold back. He buys time by reaching for his wine glass, but something about her eyes makes him opt for the former. “I… I had a threesome.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Now that I wouldn’t have guessed. Two women?”

He has the good grace to blush. “Okay, I’ve had two threesomes. Once with two chicks. Once with a chick and another guy.”

“Interesting.”

“Is this some kind of test?”

“I love how you ask that after telling me,” she chuckles. “No, it’s not. I’m just trying to work out the baseline.”

“For what?”

“I gave a blowjob in the back of a cab.”

Roman almost chokes on a sip of wine at this revelation and Kat grins over the rim of her glass. “Okay, c’mon, tell me. Why are you asking about this? A baseline for what?”

“I want you to do something for me.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just holds her gaze, willing her to spill the beans.

“I want to explore something,” she continues and he can sense the slight hesitation despite of what they’ve just shared with each other. “And I just wanted to work out whether you’d think I was crossing a line.”

“You’re worried you’re gonna corrupt me?” 

“More that you’d think I was a freak.”

“Not a chance.”

She chews her lip. “Okay.”

He slides his hand gently over her foot once again as he drains his glass. “Tell me.”

She takes a deep breath, her eyes closing for a second, steadying herself before she opens them and holds his gaze as she speaks. “I want to not be in control.”

“Not in control of…” He’s already putting two and two together but he wants to hear her say it.

“I want you to control exactly when and how I can cum.”

“Like tease you?”

“More than that.”

“Edging?”

“Yes and more.”

“You want me to stop completely just before you cum?”

She nods. “My new character. She meets this guy. It’s what he does. And as much as I can do it myself-”

“That I’d like to see,” Roman grins and she rolls her eyes.

“Please?”

Without breaking eye contact, he drops his arm over the bath to place the wine glass back on the floor. With both hands free, he lets them slide over her feet and legs to slip under the water. Her thighs tense at his touch, her eyes widening slightly.

“I think that,” he murmurs, “will be a word you’ll be saying a lot then.”

She stares at him. “You’ll do it?”

“There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you.”

The words hang in the air for a second longer than feels comfortable.

“Ro…” she breathes.

“I mean it. And not just this,” he says quietly.

“That… that means a lot,” she replies softly.

A silence blossoms between them, Roman’s hands still resting on the curve of her thighs, fingers splayed out across her skin. He wonders if he’s ruined the sexual tension that had arisen from her request, but as he swallows and then licks his lips, he sees her eyes flicker to his mouth. He lets his hands sink further up her thighs, easing them apart.

“Tell me how you did it to yourself.”

She blinks at him. “I… I just touched myself and then stopped.”

“What did it feel like?”

She sighs, her read rolling back on the lip of the bath. “Tortorous.”

He chuckles. “How many times?”

“A few…”

“And did you cum?”

She nods.

“How did it feel?”

“Amazing,” she breathes.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I wanted to see that,” he murmurs.

“Pervert,” she smirks.

“Your idea,” he replies. “You know this is gonna be as hard for me as it is for you?”

“How’d you figure that?”

“Making you cum is one of my favourite things,” he groans in mock-agony.

“I’d have thought all of this would play into your dominant side,” she cocks her head to one side.

He licks his lips, daring her to look at them. “Perhaps.”

“See,” she breathes. “You can’t help yourself.”

“I mean… The thought of you begging me… it is pretty fuckin’ delicious.”

She bites her lip. “What about the opposite?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“One idea,” she confesses. “Was that in the book, he tells her that if she makes a sound, he’ll stop.”

“Any other ideas?”

“Plenty,” she grins. And then she’s slipping from his grasp and standing. “C’mon, we gotta eat.”

He slides forward, hands on her legs, curling around to grip the back of her thighs, fingers brushing the curve of her ass. He stares up at her and then slowly drags his gaze down her body to his eye-level. He tips his head to the side and then looks back up at her with a glint in his eye.

“Behave,” she grins as she pushes his hands away and then steps out of the bath. Reaching for a towel, she hears the water splash and then a hand on her wrist, pulling her back.

His chest is solid behind her, hands sliding to her hips as he pulls her firmly against him, moving her so they’re both in view of the mirror above the vanity. Heat burns in the pit of her stomach as she watches him drop feather-light kisses to her shoulder. His hands slide over her stomach, up to her breasts and she inhales sharply as he cups them, his thumb and forefinger rolling her nipples until they tighten.

“Food can wait,” he murmurs against her throat, in between soft kisses.

“Ro…” she twists her head in an attempt to catch his lips.

Long fingers grip her chin, turning her head back to face the mirror.

“You said you had plenty of ideas.” His voice is dangerously low. “Well, so have I.”

She lets out of a soft whine as he raises his head and meets her gaze in the mirror.

“Starting with this.”

His hand slides over her stomach, whilst his foot nudges hers wider.

“If you look away or even close your eyes… I’ll stop.”

She nods, a shaky breath escaping her. His hand grazes her inner thigh and he smirks as he feels her body tense and her eyes close for a split second. He stills his hand and she whimpers softly as she holds his gaze again.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he breathes, his fingers finding her wet and warm. “Good girl…”

Fin.

Yes, I'm a tease. Sorry...

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Can I request Rouges with a bubbly S/O hcs pls?

S/O is always happy, rarely not. They always have a pleasant smile on their face.

But they’ll have episodes that could last weeks/months/(a couple of years, worse case) where they are depressed and just not in it, they can’t find joy in anything.

Wait a damn minute this might get me back into a writing moment in this writing slump wtf-

Recharge.

Their significant other wanted to give them reasons to keep going, even if they didn't need any reasons. Every waking moment, their significant other strived to give them more reasons to smile beyond their mere presence. However, the rogues aren't blind to how mentally draining it all could be. So when their love wasn't so present, they knew it was time to take over.

Scarecrow: Jonathan had been waiting for it. Your bubbly nature always catching up with you. He seemed to sense it coming before you did. Then again, he knew what signs to look out for. However, Jonathan doesn't say much as he finds you still in bed half way through the afternoon. He got to leave work early and this is hardly a loss. Jonathan climbed into bed with you and cuddled you from behind, pulling you closer to him. "I know...I know." Jonathan said softly. His other hand smoothing your hair before kissing the top of your head. "It's alright." For someone who loved fear, Jonathan could he really reassuring when he put in the effort. He'll stay with you and keep you company for as long as you need or desire it. He'll basically take over everything until you're ready.

The Riddler: Edward will only notice if he's not in his workshop. So, no doubt, the second you two are home, Edward will sit you down and clean you up. Whilst he does so, he'll likely make comments like the true condescending narcissist he is. However, at the same time, he gives you the utmost care. The gentlest of touches. "You know you really shouldn't overdo it. You're only doing it to yourself, and others don't deserve it. Of course I do, but that's obvious. I'm the Riddler. Regardless, if you want to please me truly, then you'd have to work a whole lot better than this." Edward then softly cupped your chin and tilted your face upwards before giving you a warm, soft kiss. "Come along. We'll get you to bed. You look positively exhausted, my dear." Edward will even stay with you, making sure your wrapped up tight and cuddle into you. When you're finally asleep, he'll leave and carry on with his work.

Black Mask: Just because you're down doesn't mean he can drop everything (mostly he doesn't want to). However, he wasn't going to completely ignore it. Every night, he's out enjoying the nightlife. He also makes sure you're not only there but tucked under his arm at all times. Your drinks are covered. You don't have to so much as look at anyone, never mind speaking to anyone. All the while, he's rubbing tiny circles into your shoulder, discreetly. Don't expect Roman to make drastic changes. Keep an eye on the subtle ones. After a couple of hours, he'll call it a night earlier than usual and talk about how he has to take you home. The plan is to get you tucked up into bed as soon as possible if it was ultimately too much, the plans for the next day suddenly disappeared so you can sleep in.

Two-Face: You'll best best of both worlds. Harvey should will try to be understanding and Harv who will not try at all. Both have varying levels of 'just deal with it'. Neither of them are particularly comforting but they try in their own way. Such as leaving you alone in solitude and making sure no one disturbs you. They'll check on you every so often and you might notice little bits of physical affection here and there. It's not that they don't care. They do! They just can't really show it very well nowadays. If push comes to shove, they'll definitely listen to you if you need to talk.

Mad Hatter: It'll take a minute for him to realise. Then he's borderline hounding you. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Was it the Jabberwocky? Was it the Batman!? Oh...you're just tired? But you slept for 9 hours last night. You're feeling down? Why? Need him to set up a tea party? His poor little Alice. His poor little bunny! Oh what can he do!? Expect some rather aggressive cuddles. His limbs tangling you up. Don't be sad. He loves you. He's calling the other rogues because he doesn't know how to unsad his little rabbit. (Yes that's how we worded it to the Scarecrow...and to the Riddler.) Both hung up on him eventually. Really what's the point in having friends, (Y/N), no wonder you're down. People are a nightmare.

[lookupthewordjokeinthedictionary]

I took a break from petting my cat to deliver you this post, so I might as well deliver it as nicely as possible.

Sanders Sides are yet again drawing each other, this time, Virgil drawing everyone else!!

Yes, guys, gals and enby pals, we've reached "dark sides" territory!! It will be even angstier, you guessed correctly.

Firstly, Patton!! I'm reintroducing the bullet points!

Yes, Virgil did draw him playing with puppets

Yes, Virgil did draw Patton manipulating his puppet

Yes, if you look closer, the look in Patton's face isn't that of a happy father but that of an OG manipulator.

(I need to prefix this by saying that I love Patton and his complexity and by no means am I attacking him)

But yes, Virgil has had enough, our poor little anxious baby needs his freedom (and his thunder) back!

Rare Logan moment caught on camera!

Virgil drew him in his onesie because Logan is only comfortable enough to wear it around him and around no one else

He is indeed reading a puzzle book that Virgil (and Roman) came up with

You might wonder, why does Logan have a look of disdain in his eyes while reading this book?

Oh, he doesn't. For once, I'm bad at sketching

For twice, anxiety is anxiety. He was actually quite pleased to receive such gift, but with Logan having unreadable facial expressions and Virgil being Virgil, he took his expression as that of disdain.

I love them, your honour.

Ah, hello there princey.

Don't ever make me draw side profiles, this took 30 mins and it's not even good.

Okay, real talk, Virgil did draw Roman in the middle of the latter saving someone (him)

And Virgil did draw Roman with flowers and his updated princely costume and all that.

However, it's fascinating to point out that our Prince is covered in vines. (no, not because Thomas used to be a viner, no)

But because something, someone, is holding Roman back.

And Virgil chose to portray it with green vines.

Hmmmmmm, nothing to see here folks.

Remus in the house!!

Virgil is absolutely terrified by Remus.

So ofc he drew him with his mace!!

The schrodingers details are really popping off here.

And by that, I mean that it is both a pretty detailed sketch, and a very rushed through one.

Firstly, it's the first full body sketch we see from Virgil since Patton

Which emphasises the fact that he really knows Remus (the past doesn't go away that easily)

Secondly, it's the little ruffles on his sleeves, and high boots, and dirty knees that pull all of this together.

But I can't ignore that it's still rushed through. That Virgil hasn't grown to the point that he can accept Remus, or see him as something more than a scary illness.

Janus and his oddly numbered strings.

Another detail that I'd like to bring to your attention right about now is, how both the dark sides are looking straight (gay) to the viewer (Virgil).

In antithesis to the "light" sides, that are looking at something or someone else.

But Janus' sketch is pretty self explanatory.

Virgil views him as a one of the worst sides who could dictate Thomas' life.

And not only is he part of the conversation now, but Virgil knows from personal experience, that he's keeping all the others at bay.

Lastly, our Virgil!

I will pretend like I'll improve in drawing in the future if you pretend those are wings.

When I told you not to ever let me draw a side profile again i meant it.

Regardless, Virgil is doing his damn best to hold it together as of this moment

So, he's doing what the next side would do in his position: comfort himself with his safe space.

He's sitting down (on something that is somewhat a chair, good for him)

He is listening to music

He is grounding himself (by having his hands on the stool

But even so, his wings remain closed. Virgil can pretend all he wants that those momentary solutions will fix the problem, but it won't go away. He must learn to accept all of Thomas' sides.

[maverickscorner]

Faber suae fortunae

Or Maider's love story towards freedom.

Chapter 6

Domitian loved being emperor.

Before, people bowed to him almost reluctantly, obeying an unwritten law that placed his father and brother above him, making him part of the chain of command but almost certainly the last link.

Now, his people worshipped him.

It was enough to grant larger rations and more games, and the crowd, with its protests, was appeased.

With all the contacts he had, it was easy to get goods and people wherever and whenever he wanted.

And to hell with the Senate. Despite being a Roman institution of tradition, Domitian hadn't hesitated to declare himself "Dominus et Deus," meaning "Lord and God," limiting the power of the senators who had so threatened his father's and brother's rule.

He built temples, stadiums, statues to glorify his name, and the people, seeing such a display of wealth, were already beginning to recognize him as a deity.

And Domitian had no intention of ending up like his father, who was deified by dying on his feet: he would become a god in life and benefit from it over the years.

The people would love him.

More than his father. More than Titus.

It was evening. Domitian looked at the two men sleeping beside him, with whom he had just spent a night of passion. One had short hair and dark skin, with a muscular build. The other was slimmer, with red hair. They had satisfied him, but now that he was emperor, he could find slaves like them whenever he wanted.

He got up forcefully, put on his robe, and approached the balcony of his imperial room.

Rome glittered below him in the light of torches and braziers. There was silence, mitigated by a faint and continuous hum. The city's breath.

He looked toward the Colosseum and smiled. What was supposed to be the building for which his father would be remembered had become his personal playground. An arena where anything was allowed. The place where he could make people love his thirst for revenge and sadism.

He thought of Tenax and smiled again.

That man was of rare intelligence and cunning, and he was crafting for him true stories to follow with attention. Cruel stories, sure, but stories. With a beginning and a happy ending.

And then, he was a man with a thousand plans and a thousand assets to manage. His golden faction, still battle-hardened and glorious, his tavern, his properties, and the Aedile Ludi activities.

An interesting man.

Domitian thought he had never had sex with such an interesting man, and the thought ignited his desire.

He could have forced Tenax. As a plebeian, he could not refuse an order from his lord and master.

But for his perverse pleasure, he wanted Tenax to give himself to him. To kneel before him without a choice.

To realize he was his and only his.

They had shared so much in their climb to power.

It was time to share everything.

In due time.

-I can wait- he murmured.

The wind carried it away.

***

Tenax was at the tavern.

Evening was approaching, and Maider was performing for the last time.

-I was twenty-four years old

When I met the woman I would call my own

Twenty-two grandkids now growing old

In that house that your brother bought ya!

The crowd danced, drank, and clapped in time. Reilo, the drummer, had red hands from playing so much, and Maider herself was visibly tired.

Tenax watched her, captivated. As much as it pained him to admit it, he loved hearing her sing, and for the past week, he had looked forward to nothing more than their walks to and from home to talk a little with her.

He knew she had trouble sleeping, much like him. She hadn't felt like telling him why, and he didn't ask to avoid making her uncomfortable: but when the topic came up, it was one of the few times she lost her playful demeanor and withdrew into herself, which pained him.

Then again, he wasn't particularly inclined to talk about his past either, so they talked about other things, or, rarely, didn't talk at all. But with Maider, conversation topics always came up.

-Tenax?

The man turned. Cala had gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

-Yes?

-Can we talk privately for a moment?

-Sure- he nodded, then pointed to the curtains separating the back of the tavern -After you.

Once safely away from prying ears, Cala said:

-I know Domitian is no longer furious with Kwame. It seems... it seems that being emperor is distracting him from his hatred towards him. He's focused on something else, which is good.

Tenax swallowed.

"Oh, wonderful, damn it."

-I just... I just wanted to thank you for protecting him these past two years. I know it hasn't been easy, and that you've always tried to keep him out of sight, so that people would slowly forget about him. With the emperor's indifference, the people will follow, and perhaps it will be possible to buy his freedom.

-I don't know if Domitian will ever offer him the wooden sword, not after what happened. But perhaps it could be possible to pay his ransom; he's become an "elder" of the arena by now. I've made sure others became stars, and that he remained a legend. I'm not saying it will happen right now, but with the right amount of sesterces...

-Oh, with the work here I've saved up quite a bit. And Kwame has received gifts and money he's saved over time. He has his own small crowd of admirers.

-At least fifty thousand sesterces will be needed, Cala.

Cala sighed.

-I can manage that.

Tenax looked her in the eye. Cala had become a friend over time. There was a moment when he would have wanted to kill her; but that was another time, and perhaps it was also another Tenax.

-I could help you, if needed.

-I don't want your money, Tenax.

-I'd give you what you lack, and then you could pay me back over time. I thought I was doing you a favor.

Cala studied him. His blue eyes avoided her gaze.

-Since when did you become a good person?

He gave her a tight-lipped smile.

-Just needed a little digging, I guess.

On the other side of the curtain, Maider finished singing with a decisive chord on her chitaràs.

The crowd erupted in a thunderous applause.

-It's time to go home- Tenax said.

Cala lowered her head.

-At your command, Aedile Ludi.

Tenax looked up at the sky, then walked past her, pushing aside the curtain.

***

Tenax couldn't sleep.

He got up from bed. He was only wearing short linen pants.

He would go to the main hall, have a bit of wine, and maybe he'd be able to get some sleep.

He had only taken a few steps when he heard a voice singing softly.

The notes floated in the evening air, reaching gently into the hallway of the rooms.

Tenax followed those notes as if drawn by a siren's song.

Of course, they were coming from Maider's room.

Was she still awake? And why was she singing so softly?

He gently pushed the door ajar to hear the lyrics better. Maider was sitting on her bed with a lyre in her hands, singing:

-Stone cold, stone cold, you see me standing but I'm dying on the floor...

Tenax felt touched by those words. Perhaps he moved too abruptly, or maybe he sighed too loudly, but Maider heard him and stopped singing. She hid the lyre behind her.

-Who's there?

Tenax stepped forward with his hands raised.

-Tenax?- she asked, concerned -Did I wake you? I'm so sorry, I...

-I'm the one who's sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop- he quickly said -But I couldn't sleep, and then I heard you singing...

Maider's expression softened.

-I couldn't sleep either. Too many bad memories. Music... it's how I heal, I think.

The room was lit by a faint candle. Tenax noticed that Maider's narrow eyes, in that dim light, glistened more than usual.

He didn't intend to stay at the door like a broom handle.

-I'm coming back to my room. But please, keep singing, don't...

Maider was moved as if by a supernatural force.

She stopped him.

-Wait!

They locked eyes. Green eyes met blue eyes. Time stood still.

-If you want, you can stay. I just finished composing the song, and a second opinion would be nice.

Tenax hesitated only for a moment. Then he entered.

-Alright.

He took a few steps towards her, then gestured towards the end of the bed. Maider nodded.

-Go ahead. The bed is yours. This house is yours.

Tenax considered that she was right. But part of him felt compelled to be respectful. He sat at the foot of the bed.

-So, this song?

Maider nodded. She had been too focused on him, on his sweaty, half-naked body. On those big, expressive, and incredibly blue eyes.

-Oh, yes. Here it is.

She cleared her throat. And began to sing, modulating her voice.

-Stone cold, stone cold...

Tenax listened to every word. The notes from Maider's mouth floated in the air, reaching peaks of musical perfection that Tenax had never believed he could hear.

It was the story of a deep, sharp pain. A story of abuse, of suffering, and the hope for rebirth.

He watched Maider as she sang and thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Yes, Tenax, the former criminal, the king of the Suburra who had made himself with fists and stabbings, believed that a twenty-five-year-old Jewish girl, a slave, who had suffered such great abuse that she couldn’t sleep, who sang accompanied by a lyre, was the missing piece in his life.

The piece that could ideally reunite him with Quintus.

That could make him stop fighting.

Maider finished. She had sung with all her heart. When she performed, she tried not to reveal too much of herself to those who listened. She just wanted to entertain people, and that was enough.

But now, next to that thirty-five-year-old man with countless scars and a nebulous past, she felt she could confide in him. She felt she could give him her heart for safekeeping, even if only for a little while. Even if he was her master.

No one dared to say a word. That song awakened their traumas, but at the same time, it bound them and healed them. Tenax swallowed with difficulty.

—It's beautiful. I want... I want you to perform it tomorrow.

Maider snapped out of her reverie.

—It's personal. Perhaps too personal.

—I know. I can see that— he looked at her —But I have no doubt it will touch everyone's hearts. You can play it in the evening when there are fewer people.

Maider sighed.

—I suppose I have no choice.

—Trust me. It will help you.

Maider looked at him.

—I think... letting you hear it has already helped me.

Tenax hesitated.

—You've helped me too. Everyone has their traumas, you'll see that... people will like it as much as I do.

—If that's the case, fine. I'll try.

—I don't doubt it.

Reason told him to get up, but he remained seated.

—Is... is that why you can't sleep?

Maider set the lyre aside.

—What happened on the journey to Rome marked me deeply. For days and days, I pretended to be someone I'm not, just to protect myself. Just to... avoid suffering more. But I suffered anyway, and a lot.

A tear ran down her cheek, but Maider didn’t notice.

—You think you're a certain type of person, then life puts you to the test, and you discover that you're willing to do anything just to survive. When I was on that stage, at my sale as a slave, I thought I would break. I had tried not to until that moment, but I saw it as inevitable. And then...— she laughed softly, shaking her head —I sang those few words and I saw you. And I understood...

—Yes?

Maider hesitated.

—I understood that I wouldn’t break.

Tenax nodded. Had he expected more?

—Got it.

He reluctantly stood up. He started to head for the door.

—Tenax...

He closed his eyes. He reopened them and turned around.

—I know nothing about you— Maider said to him.

He sighed.

—It's better that way. You wouldn’t look at me the same.

Maider shook her head.

—Put me to the test.

Tenax felt his heart tighten.

—Not today— he told her —Good night, Maider.

And he left the room.

After taking a few steps, he leaned against the wall and let himself fall.

His head in his hands.

***

Hi everyone! Eli here. Hope you liked this new chapter. Let me know in the comments ehat you think. Thank you ❤️

[part-time-zombie]

Spotlight

pairings: logince (platonic, can be seen as romantic)

summary: when thomas suggests doing a photoshoot featuring logan, roman is tasked with overseeing the finer details. on one hand he's thrilled to work on a project like this again, but on the other...

tags/warnings: minor hurt/comfort

word count: 1290

“Are you sure this is what I’m going to wear?” Logan exasperatedly called out from the other room.

Roman flashed a cheery smile in response even though he knew Logan couldn’t actually see it. “Absolutely. It’ll look great on you, promise.”

“It’s not exactly my usual outfit.”

"Neither is a skirt, but this is all about capturing your vibes, and let me tell you this is perfect for that. Now stop whining and get dressed already.”

He heard a low sigh as Logan returned his attention to changing into his outfit, leaving Roman to figure out how he’d do his makeup after.

When Thomas first suggested reprising Logan's skirt look into something more stylized, Roman couldn’t help but feel somewhat conflicted. Sure, a chance do something fashionable was always welcome, and seeing people applaud him online was something he would never get tired of, but he still couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

Why does Logan get the outfit upgrade and not him? his birthday is this month, and a new skirt photoshoot would have been a wonderful gift to celebrate it. He knew Logan was getting to be far more popular than him, but surely he’d at least get some sort of recognition for the sake of his upcoming birthday.

Whatever. He would still have the day to celebrate, even if the fans forgot it.

Logan had finished getting dressed by now, the sharp clacking of heels on the hardwood floor pulling Roman from his thoughts.

Roman was glad he was already sitting, because he would have nearly fallen over upon seeing the final look. Tight black lace, a royal blue vest, and cats-eye glasses all complimented the form-fitting pencil skirt perfectly. Logan seemed to agree, as he held himself with a surprising amount of confidence that wasn’t there before.

Roman picked those clothes out himself and he was still impressed by how amazing it looked on Logan. It was fashionable and stylish and very much fit Logan's taste. Roman couldn’t help but pat himself on the back a little bit for being able to dress him up so well.

“Is this look acceptable?” he asked, a faint blush in his cheeks.

Roman could only nod at first, struggling for a moment to remember how to properly form words. “Uhm, yes. You look… nice. Very nice, actually. Heads will turn for sure.”

Logan let out another sigh, though Roman could still spot a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. “If you say so. You would know more about fashion than me, though I must admit, I do enjoy this outfit more than I initially thought.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll really enjoy what we’re doing for your makeup,” Roman said with a cheer, beckoning Logan to take a seat beside him. He gently removed his glasses and set them aside before working, brows furrowed in concentration as he applied the makeup. Logan sat obediently still, looking up and moving his head however Roman requested, and Roman felt a warm sense of happiness spreading through his chest. Logan worked well with him, and Roman was surprised by how much he seemed to enjoy the process, albeit subtly. Logan may not burst into song when he’s happy (well, aside from when he’s eating crofters), but he made his feelings clear all the same, and seeing the small smile and excited twinkle in his eye was all the proof Roman needed that Logan was just as happy about this as he was, if not more so.

Roman set his brush down and leaned back, admiring the finished look. Logan looked completely transformed. He was stylish and confident and, one would argue, even hot in a manner that Roman rarely got to see. He really had brought out the best in him.

Logan fixed the glasses back on his face before turning to look at himself in the mirror, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as he finally saw himself for the first time.

“What do you think?”

That same smile from earlier was back and bigger than ever as Logan leaned closer to the mirror and examined the makeup. “It’s very well done,” he started, eyes not leaving his reflection. “I don’t wear makeup recreationally, but you’ve done an excellent job with this. I doubt I’ll wear this all the time, but I do like the look very much, almost more than my original outfit.”

“You really should wear this a lot more, though. It’s a great look for you.”

Logan ducked his head in an attempt to hide his blush. “I’m tempted to agree.”

“Seriously, you’ll have to beat the fans off with a stick after they see you looking this good,” Roman said with a laugh, one that quickly died out on his tongue. Right, the fans will all love him. Him, not Roman. Yet again.

Logan turned to look at him with an odd expression. “Is something wrong, Roman?”

“What? No, nothing’s wrong. If anything, your outfit is absolutely right and we need to make our way to that photoshoot,” Roman replied as he quickly gave him another smile and a dismissive wave, hoping Logan will leave it alone.

Logan furrowed his brows for a moment, but thankfully didn’t pry any further. “Alright then. Now do you have any advice for how I should best perform for this photoshoot? It’s best to make sure the aforementioned ‘vibes’ are correct.”

“Well, this is all about you, so as long as you feel like yourself you’ll nail it. Show them that confidence and poise I know you have in you and the rest will be a piece of cake.”

Logan nodded thoughtfully as he and Roman both got up from their chairs, taking a moment to check the upcoming schedule on his phone.

“Right, so it looks like if we finish the photoshoot on time today and we get the photos back quickly, we’ll be able to post the results on…”

Logan trailed off as the date appeared on the screen, and Roman knew exactly what made him pause. Logan put everything in his calendar, he knew every important and unimportant date. Of course he knew what day was coming.

“Oh. Roman, I’m so sorry. It was the only day that worked best for Thomas, and I didn’t even realize that it would be-“

“Don’t worry about it, specs,” Roman muttered, trying his best not to look too unbothered. “It’s been a hectic couple of weeks and you said it yourself, this day works the best. It’s not an issue, as long as the look goes over well.”

“You’re not upset?”

Of course he was upset. Everything had been going wrong for him and now everyone forgot about his birthday. Even if they remember later, it’ll still be outshined and overlooked by the photos of Logan’s outfit.

Still, that outfit was incredible and the last thing Logan needs right now is to feel guilty for looking this good and getting some much deserved attention. As much as it hurt to be disregarded, Roman wouldn’t do that to him.

“It’s just a birthday, they happen every year. Besides, I’m sure we’ll all still do something together for it anyway. Now come on, let’s stop moping around and get this photoshoot going!” he said, letting his excitement override his wounded pride.

Logan gave him a nod as he followed Roman out the door, sharing thoughts about the outfit and various poses he could do for the shots. Roman hyped him up the whole time, ensuring all the attention was right where it belonged.

At least his birthday would still be memorable in its own way.

He’s so doing his own photoshoot later, though.

@keitaisghost @nico-the-overlord @lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @britt-ish123 @rougeside4 @new-zee-land @can-i-take-a-stab

[deepdisireslonging]

Some Old Favorites

I was reminiscing, looking back through my masterlists, and I wanted to reshare some smutty fics. They didn’t get a lot of love back in the day because I didn’t have many readers yet. Some of you have found them and loved to read them as much as I loved to write them. But I wanted to share them with some of my new friends/followers too. Happy Reading!

DC Comics:

Two Hoods, One Revenge: The reader has nightmares of the day that turned her into a vigilante. Jason helps her keep them at bay; first with soothing words, then with something more hot and heavy.

Hickey Victory: Dick gets his hands on a marshmallow gun… but he forgets about your nerf gun stash. Shenanigans occur.

A Night at the Theater: A mission demands the public appearance of Bruce Wayne and yourself at a theater. The mission is quickly put to rest, which leaves you plenty of time to appreciate your husband during intermission.

A Nightly Affair: Nightwing keeps mistaking your apartment for his and you two grow very close. Very. Close. So close as to put you in danger, unless Nightwing can find you first. [Series Masterlist]

Marvel:

In the Eye of the Beholder: Part 1 | Part 2 : The reader gives an unexpected lap dance. Bucky approves.

All in a Night’s Work: The reader come face to face with the sniper that has been evading them for years. When things don’t go according to plan, Loki distracts them till they can get some much-needed rest.

Dirty Lips: When Y/N introduces a swear jar to the team, Steve takes it upon himself to fill it all by himself.

To Love the Sea: Y/N is the daughter of a sea-side innkeeper. The area is known for its draw for pirates, but one pirate is feared above all others: Captain Loki. He offers to take her on adventures; is she willing to take the plunge? [Series Masterlist]

Supernatural:

The Pointy End: You are research headquarters at the bunker while Dean, Sam, and occasionally Cas, are on cases. Dean comes home to you after a very long case, with a surprise. (My very first fic!)

Deep in the Archives: Sam takes the reader to a rare books library while they look for a spell book not at the bunker. The reader is focused on the task, but Sam’s roaming hands are a distraction.

Satisfied: An imagine of Castiel using his grace on you.

SPN History Challenge: A Werewolf in Whitechapel:  The Winchesters and the reader go to London during the Whitechapel murders, also known as the Jack the Ripper murders, with the theory that the perpetrator is not human. They are correct, but when the killings don’t stop, the team has to retrace their steps and riddle out what stone they left unturned. Written for @kittenofdoomage and @saxxxology-main  SPN History Challenge.

Boxer!Dean AU: Consequences: Y/N gets dragged to a boxing match by her friends where she meets Dean  “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester, a boxer who is forced to win or lose depending on how much money his bosses want to make in matches. Can their combined effort break the fixed boxing ring?  [Series Masterlist] (No smut, but still a favorite)

Wrestling Fics:

Chiffon in the Streets, Lace in the Sheets: The reader and Elias are newly married and ready to enjoy their first night as man and wife, but a few things get in the way first. (WWE)

Dangerous: After defending herself at a bar, Y/N impresses the dark figure sitting in the corner booth. Prince Devitt further impresses her. One thing leads to another, and she welcomes knowing him better. (NJPW)

A Reflection of Us: The reader gets a slight injury in a match. Roman takes his time making sure the reader is safe but very satisfied. (WWE)

Troublemaker: The reader ran off with something belonging to Kenny Omega. He makes sure she pays for it. (NJPW/AEW)

Doubt Comes In: While Rosemary battles Su Yung in the Underworld, Y/N meets and welcomes a new face to TNA. But two battles are raging instead of one. If Y/N is victorious, can she settle the insecurities in Rosemary’s mind? (Answered request) (TNA)

Sister in Arms: Finn can’t seem to shake the effects of his feud with Bray Wyatt, so an old friend comes to help. Then Y/N finds herself battling on two fronts: in the ring and in her mind.  [Series Masterlist] (WWE)

[hughiecampbelle]

Dependence Pt. 4 (Roy!Sibling x Roy Family)

((SUCCESSION SPOILERS))

Character/s: Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Roman, Logan

Word Count: 2,538

Warning: addiction, drugs, alcohol, death, grief

Inspired By: I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: This was one of the best and one of the most heartbreaking episodes I've ever seen. That being said, omfg. All I could think of was Baby Roy. My heart broke for Roman. It was beautiful and an honest portrayal of grief, but I was not ready at all. I wasn't planning on writing anymore parts, but I just couldn't help myself. This episode was too good to leave it be. I'm really happy with how it turned out! this has been my favorite series to write, Baby Roy is so fun to write and it makes me so happy to know you guys like it too!!! Thank you!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Dependence Pt. 1 / Dependence Pt. 2 / Dependence Pt. 3 / Dependence Pt. 5

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt One.

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt. Two

You can still taste the whiskey in the back of your throat. It’s a familiar burning. It’s something you shouldn’t welcome with open arms, but when have you ever turned away from a love that could kill you? When have you been shown any other kind of affection? Their hugs always came with a stab in the back, right between your vertebrae. They were always intentional with their strokes, never wanting to waste a moment, a movement. What you wouldn’t give for a drink right now. Salted rim. Ice. Something bright, something colorful, something to make this all go away. You were so close last time, tip toeing on the edge. Where he fell, you flew, dragged back by the skin of your teeth. You didn’t want to be saved, you wanted to be free. The memories are hazy, but your throat was scratchy, voice patchy, as if you’d been screaming. As if you’d been begging. No one explained, though you had a feeling they all heard. They looked at you differently now. You knew what they said behind your back, your fathers old posse, what they thought of you. Suicidal. Maybe. What did they care about? Now you started what could have been. The casket, the rows and rows of nameless faces, most never shedding a tear over your old man, over you. The violins, the church, the halo effect the light gives as if anyone in this room were remotely holy. You hadn’t had anything since the incident, nothing to drink, nothing to use, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still feel it, want it. After the charcoal, the sick, after that, it seemed like you could never get rid of that boozy taste in your mouth. Faint, but there. Mocking you, your sobriety. What your father would have said to you after the incident plays on loop in your mind. That if you wanted to cry he would give you something to cry about, if you wanted to die he would give you something to die about.

Too late, you think, you beat me to it. 

Your mother sat beside Caroline and Kerry, making the ever rare appearance in the world to grieve her ex-spouse. She hugged you as she came in, doing the same with your brothers and sister, reminding you this wasn’t the kind of event that came with an open bar. You smiled, unsure of what else to do, unsure of what to say, struck as if you’d been slapped across the face. She wasn’t there. She didn’t see you, in that bed, in that condition. You hadn’t even attempted to call her in that haze, you’d gone to your dead father instead. You knew. You knew even as you lay dying that she would not offer the comforts you so desperately wanted. She would not let you go in peace. Someone must’ve filled her in, though by the look in her eye you’d never know it. She was as jaded and hostile as ever. She seemed satisfied with herself, her quip, moving on to your sister and her big news. Your eyes stung. Someone put their hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Connor or Kendall. You never found out who. Suddenly you were drained. Of life, of everything, wanting to lay down on the pew and sleep forever. You let your siblings talk. You let them wander off to their prospective parties, sticking by Connor like a little kid, becoming his shadow. Since that night he hasn’t let you out of his sight. He takes care of you. He makes sure you’re doing okay. The others call, checking in more than they ever have, all of them feeling guilty. You didn’t mean to. You didn’t mean to make such a mess. You were just so angry, so alone. You were tired of fighting this thing inside of you that could not be controlled, that threatened to burn you alive. 

Time passes strangely. There are gaps in between. You don’t remember sitting down or watching them carry him in, only that he rests in the aisle and you cannot stop yourself from holding your breath. You can’t take your eyes off the casket. He’s really in there, you think, he’s really gone. Part of you still thinks this is all one massive trick. That he’s going to pop up and laugh, making a fool out of all of you. You wait, but he does not stir. Despite their best efforts, Ewan takes his place at the podium. He talks of his brother and sister, Rose. Of Logan's life before you, before the money. You’d never heard any of this before. Your fathers life was a series of scattered bits of information and assumptions to fill in the gaps. You only had a handful of real facts about him, ones that weren’t superficial like his age and birthday. The realization seeps into your skin: you never even knew him. You watch the same thought in your siblings' expressions. The quiver of Roman’s bottom lip. The glazed over look in Kendall's eyes. Even Connor, your oldest brother, the one who knew him the longest, stared forward as if he were desperate to breathe and Ewans words were the only oxygen in the room. All of you hopeless without him, without this story, as if you were hearing about him for the first time. The man you wanted to be loved by so frantically was nothing but a stranger. He kept all of you at arms length, not wanting to get hurt again. Now here you were, hurting, missing out on a father, a real father, because of his fears. You dug your nails into your palms, wanting to scream. 

You watched him crumble before you. He’d been so confident, so manic, you should have known. You should have known all that pre-grieving was masochistic bullshit. His words catch in his throat, his hands shuffle his cards around, until finally he needs to step down, the tears glistening in his eyes. All of you reflectively stand, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs. He is sobbing now, trying to keep it all in. Is he in there? He asks. Can we get him out? Connor steps in front of you, taking his little brother by the arm, as if he doesn’t want you to see this, as if he can protect you from their pains, their sorrows. Roman holds his hands in front of his face, shielding himself from the fury of a ghost. Through your siblings, you grab his cards from his shaking hand. I can do it, you say, catching their eyes. Even Roman, his puppy dog eyes wide and scared and sad, are surprised. I got this. You sound more confident than you feel. None object, though you watch Ken and Shiv share an argument with just their eyes. You smile at Roman, assuring him it’s okay. You have to be there for them, too. You have to be there for them like they’ve been for you. Your tiny crowd dissipates, all of them sitting around him. You take your place at the podium. There is such a huge turnout you can’t see everyone's faces, though you have a feeling you know what they’re thinking. Frank leans over, whispers something to Gerri. You clear your throat, looking over what your brother has written. Fuck. Clutching the cards, you think quickly. The silence hangs in the air thick. I didn’t know my father, you start. Not well, at least. He wasn’t, uh, he wasn’t an easy man to get to know. Some chuckle. He spent most of his time at work, with all of you. Even as a little kid, I thought that’s where Dad lived, in the office. I had no idea uh, I had no idea they lived at home with their family. More laughter. You cannot look at anyone else but your siblings. They nod at you, encouraging you to go on. Someone got Roman water. You offer a sympathetic smile at him, knowing this will haunt him. Tears are welling up in your eyes as you speak, laughter catching in your throat. I, uh, I still can’t believe it, you know? You swallow a sob. I keep thinking that he’s going to come out of nowhere, that this was just some joke he’s playing on us. That we’ll hear his laugh out of nowhere and he’ll be back. It’s not though, it can’t be. It's too real now. Your hands begin to shake, the concerned faces of your brothers and sister blurred by tears. You catch your mother wiping her dry face with a tissue. Kendall inches forward, ready to come to your rescue. I didn’t know him well, but I miss him every single day. I miss the way he used to yell and that disappointed look he gave when we messed up. I miss his condescending tone and the way he danced around an apology. I miss him. We all do. He wasn’t uh, he wasn’t an easy man to love, but who is? 

Connor takes your hand in his, giving it three squeezes. Kendall went up, then Shiv. you can’t hear their words, you can only watch them try to keep themselves together. They share stories of your father, from a childhood before you. You liked hearing about it, as sad as it may be. You were grateful they had each other, that they didn’t grow up so alone. Your head rests on Rome’s shoulder, his sniffling quiet, cautious, as if your father could hear him. On the other side of the church, your mother sobs loudly. The rest of Logan's wives and girlfriends come to her rescue, comforting her, despite not a single tear being shed. You roll your eyes, wishing the day over as fast as possible. You keep close behind Connor and Willa, who are thanking the sea of nameless faces for coming. People you’ve never seen before, people you’ve seen in passing, in Christmas cards, others you have the terrible feeling that they came only to check that the old man was, in fact, truly dead. You take the car with them all the way to the graveyard where his mausoleum stands tall and daunting. Crisp, harsh lines draw you into where he hoped you would all be buried alongside him. If they hadn’t brought you back, if they hadn’t found you when they did, would you be in there now? Would you have taken the first available slot, destined to share eternity with a man who fucking hated you? A shudder goes through your body. Shiv mistakes it for grief, holding your arm. It is cold and sterile, the very place you would have expected him to be. The ground, the bugs, that’s too dirty. Too much. He never would have been cremated either. He didn’t want to rot, you think, as if this place could prevent that. Roman stands near the doorway, not wanting to go in. You wait beside him, not saying a word. Too much empathy, too much compassion, and you’ll drive him away. No, he just needs his time. You watch Connor place his hand on the places in the wall, as if he has already claimed it on his own. You drop your gaze, trying to stop the thoughts from coming. What if, one day, you’re the only one left? What then? How will you go on without them, all of them? Tears fall silently down your cheeks. You couldn’t do it without them. They were your mother and fathers, they raised you, they saved you. Without them, without them you would be nothing. You never would have made it this far, seen this many years. Despite their faults, despite everything, you owed your life to them. You always would. 

Your brother disappears before you can stop him, shutting himself into isolation, into the car. None of you move, none of you get up to get him, your eyes all transfixed on what’s being done before you. Settled into his final resting place. All that anger, all that rage, where does it go? Does it come back to you? Does it belong to you now? You haven’t been angry since that night, not like how it was, your rage replaced with gratitude. You weren’t happy to be back, to be here, but it was better than the alternative. If they’d had to bury you too, you’re not sure what they would have done. Before you thought your absence meant nothing. That they’d known how to function in a world without you before, they could do it again. The way they looked at you when you woke up, when you cried, you realized just how much you’d put them through, how they seemed to age decades under those fluorescent lights. You apologized profusely, but they wouldn’t hear it. They blamed themselves, all of them. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be tied back to this life, this meaningless existence, but you couldn’t let yourself hurt them anymore.

The reception is crowded, everyone sharing their condolences. Kendall gets you a water before disappearing to talk to Mencken, Roman following obediently. He makes sure you’re okay on your own, that it’ll only be a minute. You assure him you’ll be alright, really. How he would have hated this, you smile. All these people pretending to have known him, sympathizing with his children. As far as he was concerned you deserved nothing. You deserved less than nothing. You wade through the room. They’re off, doing their own things, trying each and every one of them to one day take over. You never wanted that, you never thought it was your rightful place. You know what you want and it doesn’t involve this. It doesn’t involve schmoozing, it doesn’t involve high stakes and high stress. What wouldn't save your family from this, but it’s too late. It always was. They were pitted against one another before you were even born. You sip your water, forever wishing it were something stronger. The impulse is still there. It always has been, always will be. It didn’t leave just because he did. It didn’t escape you just because he did. It sits in the middle of your chest and it is bitter for being ignored. You did it once, a whole year, you can do it again. You will do it again. If not for yourself, if never for yourself, then for them. For Connor, for Kendall, for Siobhan, for Roman. For the people who have always loved you, always will. Logan is dead. He will be. He didn’t care then and he won’t care now, but they will. It’s up to you to do better, be better, stay sober. It's not easy, it never has been, it never will be. But don’t they deserve that? Don’t each of them deserve that from you? You watch them, each of them, laugh and roll their eyes and try to find their way in this world without him. If they can do it, if they can find a reason to show up, to be there, so can you. Right?