#if you just ‘have wings’ you were expected to know exactly where they came from and gave a species name at the ready

[plant-kin]

since queen of england kin drama isn’t immediately turning up in results, imagine this but real:

people were genuinely attacking each other to PROVE that they were the REAL queen of england. i think it took place on facebook but it was So Much that it got screenshot and put on tumblr.

tumblr kinnies may have found the desolate castle and turned it into a home, but there sure as fuck was a whole kingdom of this shit before us. fucking imagine.

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

PART TWO

pairing: Lucifer x fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fanfiction

notes: lmaoo sorry it took awhileee I'm actually a very busy college student while simultaneously having so much brainrot for this man so... Be patient omfg, I just posted part one a two days ago 😭 also, don't mind the warnings too much as it doesn't specifically for this specific chapter but it can be future parts of the story. So yes, hand holding before marriage will happen between Lucifer and [y/n]

warnings: none except hand holding before marriage lmao.

PART ONE | PART THREE

The princess of hell along with her girlfriend was just settling in the guest room heaven provided for them temporarily as they had an important meeting with them.

Charlie and Vaggie stopped talking as their was a knock on their door, “Who do you think is it?” Charlie asked and Vaggie shrugged and Charlie decided to open the door.

There stood a rather tall female angel with three pairs of wings and a golden halo on her head, the short white dress accompanied by gold compliments the woman's figure beautifully.

Safe to say both Charlie and Vaggie were mesmerized, the woman before them was drop dead gorgeous. Though, Vaggie was still cautious, despite a former angel, she doesn't know who this woman is as some seraphim angels tend to not show themselves to the lower ranking aside from Sera.

“Are you Princess Charlotte? The daughter of Lucifer?” the woman asked with her [e/c] eyes sparkling in excitement, the woman quickly placed her hands over her mouth in embarrassment, “Oh! Sorry for the intrusion, I forgot to introduce myself,” she says with a small smile before giving the two girls a curt bow, “My name is [y/n], a seraphim. It's a pleasure to meet you two.”

Charlie gave her a big grin, giving the woman a curt bow. The princess of hell decided to trust her as she couldn't sense any bad intentions from the older woman and to her, the name [y/n] sounded awfully familiar, she just forgot where she had heard it before. “It is so nice to meet you, I am Charlotte but you can call me Charlie.” Charlie said and [y/n] just grinned as Vaggie decided to just watch the two, still cautious. The older woman's eyes landed on Vaggie and she gave her a grin, “And who might you be?” she asked her and Vaggie just glared at her before avoiding her gaze, “Vaggie.”

[Y/n] just grins, her eyes analyzing the gray haired woman before letting out a small hum before shifting her gaze to the princess. [Y/n]'s heart ached a little to see how much the girl looked exactly like her father. [Y/n] misses him, she wished she did something that could have prevented his fall. Regrets always comes last. She took a deep breath then once more wore a bright smile on her face. Charlie noticed the shift of her mood but decided not to question it.

“So Charlie, I came here as I was curious what your plan for hell is about.” [y/n] says softly, she wasn't there during the meeting Lucifer requested for hell and this time, she promised to be there for his daughter instead. Charlie's eyes sparkled excitedly, excited that an angel aside from that bitch ass Adam would finally listen to her. “Really?!” The princess asked excitedly and [y/n] can only let out a soft chuckle, “Of course, why don't we take a walk while you tell me about it? Your friend can join us too.”

Charlie calmed down and gave the older woman a smile, “Vaggie here is actually my girlfriend.” she says, expecting the older woman to judge her but she was surprised when [Y/n] just ruffled her hair. “My apologies, I didn't know.”

The younger girls were surprised, that an angel didn't show any disgust to their relationship and she even looked like she approved.

“Now then, how about that walk?”

“And that's what I'm planning, I wished for my people to find redemption and join heaven.” Charlie explained softly, taking a bite of her strawberry cheesecake. Both [y/n] and Charlie sat in a rather peaceful cafe in heaven, angelic sigils circling around them as [y/n] casted them for their privacy. [Y/n] can only smile as she listens to the younger girl who rambles about her plans for her people, [y/n] can't help but remember how similar Charlie is to her father, oh heavens... She missed him so much.

Vaggie didn't join them unfortunately, she said that she wanted to rest a little bit in the guest room.

[y/n] gracefully placed down the cup of coffee she was sipping and gently wiping her lips with a napkin, “That is truly admirable Charlie, to see you have so much hope for your people really reminds me of your father. I really hope it will come to life.” the compliment was almost enough for Charlie to burst into tears, to hear someone praise her plans and believe in it, it felt like a mother praising her.

Though, she was able to stop her tears as she realizes something. Reminds me of your father. [Y/n] and her dad knew each other.

Then Charlie remembers, the stories her dad told her about heaven and the stories he told her about his closest angel friend—the only one who believed in him. She remembers thinking that she felt her dad loved that angel in one way or another, with how fondly he spoke of her—with so much adoration.

“I remember now, you were my father's best friend!” Charlie gasped, a hand over her mouth and [y/n] can only chuckle, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Were? I still think of him as my best friend.” She chuckles softly, “Though, I don't blame him if he doesn't think the same way as I wasn't able to help him back then.” she continues sadly and Charlie had to wave her arms around to stop her, “Nonono, my father doesn't think like that. You're still his best friend.” Charlie reassured the older woman.

“Really now? How is he these days? I haven't heard from him after so many eons.” [y/n] asked softly with a slight chuckle and Charlie can only sigh with a small smile on her face, “Well... He's still how he usually is. Kind, trying his best for me, and lately he had an obsession with making rubber ducks.” she says with a small giggle making the older woman chuckle, “Thay sounds like him, though surprised that he still loved ducks. He used to ramble to me about random duck facts when he was still here. He was such a dork, I truly missed him.” [y/n] says with a chuckle, a longing look in her eyes.

Charlie was able to put two and two together, her father and this woman loved each other and she can only assume they didn't confess in the fear of ruining their friendship. Charlie loves her parents but a part of her is hoping in a different universe, her father and [y/n] are happy together.

Charlie decided not to mention it to the woman and just continued hanging out with the older woman. “I am sure he misses you too.”

“The meeting will start in a few hours and Charlie?” [y/n] says softly before summoning a wax sealed white envelope out of thin air, gold sparkling from where the envelope is as it slowly falls into her hands. Charlie looked at her in curiosity, “Can I ask you a favor?” [y/n] asked her hesitantly and Charlie just nodded, “Of course!”

“Can I ask you a favor of delivering this letter to Lucifer?” She asked and gently extended her hand towards the younger girl in which the girl accepted the letter and placed it in her chest pocket. “Of course! My father would be delighted to hear from you.”

“Thank you, Charlie. I appreciate it dearly.” [y/n] smiled softly as she stood up from her seat, extending her hand to help the hell princess up from her seat. “Now, let me walk you back to your room so you can get ready for your meeting.”

Now the princess of hell wishes the other angels were just as understanding as [y/n]. Even though the meeting didn't go as planned, she felt reassured as both Emily and [y/n] were there in the court room.

“What are we even talkin' about? Some crack-whore who fucked up already? He blew his shot, like the cocks in his mouth. This discussion is senseless and petty.” Lute sneers with an annoyed glare, putting on her mask. Though, Charlie can feel her patience thinning, her eyes glaring at the angels.

The other angels looking down on the scene happening below, [y/n] looking worried for her while glaring at Adam and Lute. “There's no question to be posed, he's unholy, case closed. Did you forget that 'Hell is forever'?” Adam and Lute sang mockingly and [y/n] could feel her anger starting to boil. She always hated Adam, that egoistical prick, she looked up at Sera as if asking her to stop this nonsense.

“A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month. Gotta say, I can't wait to—” Adam sang and [y/n] noticed Sera getting worried, “Adam.” Sera says sternly but it seems the man was too busy to hear her, “Come down and exterminate you!”

At that moment, loud ringing was only what [y/n] heard as she was shocked to hear him say that. Exterminate...? Don't tell me...? [Y/n] asked herself before glaring at Sera, the other angels were also shocked by the reveal.

“Wait!” Emily exclaimed, shocked by the reveal and Adam just noticed his slip up, “Shit.”

“What are you saying? Let me get this straight, you go down there and kill those poor souls?” Emily asked, horrified as she slowly flies down towards Charlie, holding her hand, “You didn't know?” Charlie asked and Emily shook her head. “Whoops!” Adam says, not a care in the world, “Guess the cat's out of the bag.” Lute says with a smirk, “What's the big deal?” Adam asked with a condescending smirk and [y/n] wished she could go down there and punch him.

“Sera, tell me that you didn't know...” both Emily and [y/n] asked simultaneously, though, Sera was just looking at Emily. [Y/n] was pissed at this whole revelation, human souls are killed in heaven by the hands that are supposed to be pure holiness. To think about blood staining those hands, fills her with disgust.

The whole courtroom was a mess, [y/n] doesn't remember what exactly happened. The reveal that Vaggie was an angel didn't surprise her, she can sense the girl's angelic blood but the reveal that Sera was the one who ordered for the extermination to happen, filled her with rage.

“Charlie! Don't lose hope! We will find a way to help you!” Emily says as we watched Vaggie and Charlie be sucked by a portal back to hell, “Don't give up! We'll find a way!” [y/n] added, making sure the two girls heard. Sera glared at her and [y/n] glared back.

That's what Charlie last saw, Emily looking worried and disappointed but what worried her was Sera and [y/n] started arguing, angelic powers starting to spark between them and that was the last thing she saw as she returned back in hell. Thankfully, the letter was safe in her pocket.

[radiance1]

The League tried to interrupt a summoning of a powerful being from the Infinite Realms. From the information they collected, the being isn't of the status of a royalty, but they still had to be careful as the being the summoners tried to call forth was still of noble status.

They failed.

The head cultist finished the ritual, the last words to finish the summoning left their tongue and the room was suddenly doused in heat, as black flame came to life from within the circle, twisting and turning, back and forth until a pair of red eyes suddenly flashed from inside the twisting pillar of flame and just as suddenly as the eyes appeared, was the pillar broken apart.

What was left behind was the figure of a giant phoenix, wings spread as embers black as night gently fell down to the floor below and suddenly disappearing, as if they were never there in the first place.

"Who dares to disturb-" The being started, eyes scanning the crowd below before stilling, extremely and worryingly quiet. One of them quietly cursed. "Constantine..." The creature's voice was low, dangerously low, no doubt anger in its voice as it called out the Warlock's name.

Everyone tensed, expecting something dangerous, except for the cultists, and the Head, who turned his head towards them and smiled, obviously expecting them to be reduced to not even ash.

"100 years. One. Hundred. Years." The being spoke, and confusion wormed its way into the hearts of all those present. "100 years I have waited for you, and when we finally meet once again it's not even you summoned me but these-" The creature waved a wing at the cultist below. "-These fatuous and vacuous little things."

"And what is this? You surrounded yourself with those not even of human birth before you have even thought about me?" The noble's eyes narrowed. "Did our relationship mean nothing to you?

Someone, probably not Constantine, choked.

"Well then, after all of this time you can at least make yourself useful." In a flash of black fire, Constantine was brought from within the ranks of heroes and in front of the beast, a man who seemed to be trying to-and unsuccessfully- lighting a smoke. "Ah, why do that when you have me?" The being purred, bending down to apparently light a smoke before freezing, as if remembering what exactly it was doing, but the action was already done, and Constantine was killing his lungs away.

The phoenix snapped back up to standing above everyone else, clearing its throat as if what happened decidedly didn't happen.

"What exactly did you want me to be useful for, love?" Constantine asked, expelling the smoke from his lungs and deciding that this might as well be happening. The noble huffed, folding its wings at its sides as it stared down at its apparent lover. "Take care of our son for once in your sad, pathetic life."

This time, not only did Constantine choke, but a good chunk of people there did as well. Constantine ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the phoenix incredulously. "Aren't we both men?"

The phoenix looked at his lover as if he were stupid. "Your point?"

"I-" Constantine sighed, took a breath, held, then expelled more smoke from his lungs. Apparently, he decided not to question anything anymore. "You know what? Sure, where is the little bugger?"

Over the next few moments, both the Justice League and Cultists were treated to the noble transforming into a human (still having wings) and handing over their apparent child-who looked nothing like them by being a dragon, but who were they to question the apparent reproduction of a being from the Infinite Realms- and being lectured about what not to do and what to do and how he should be cared for.

Also, a warning for his many powers.

Then the Duke stole a kiss (One that he claimed was long overdue) and left.

The room was silent, only the sounds of breathing occupying the room as the temperature was brought back down to normal levels.

A moment later, Batman walked up to the nearby cultist and punched him across the face and knocking him out cold, suddenly reminding everyone what exactly they were here for.

A while later, in the meeting room, everyone looked at Constantine. Who had a baby eastern dragon wrapped around one arm (who was apparently his child) and rubbing his temple with the other.

"I can't explain this."

===

Danny was actually not Constantine kid, neither was he Vlad's. Biologically, at the very least, however. Vlad did adopt both him and Jasmine a while back after their whole parent fiasco.

They're dead, sadly unable to become ghosts, or perhaps not so sadly.

Of course, they unfortunately outlived Jasmine, which was to be expected, but Vlad and Danny did grow close enough that they no longer viewed each other as enemies.

However, who could have expected that Danny, finally ascending to his princely status, would turn him back into a literal child because he was, for all intents and purposes, one by Dragon standards.

Utter malarkey, he would say.

Taking care of that boy was the worst few memories he has ever had. He was constantly being kept from his sleep, his work being interrupted constantly, and the child managed to find a way to leave his sight at each and every turn.

But there were some sweet moments, he would say.

It's only reasonable, however, that his lover (who he hasn't seen for an entire century might he add) share the workload.

[bokutosbabe]

I have no idea if this is where asks are sent but I am CRAVING some Oikawa or Ushijima figs rn 😍 OR EVEN DAICHI IM DESPERATE ID EAT UP ANYTHING YOU WRITE I BEG

AHAHA YOU FOUND THE PERFECT PLACE TO COME i love literally ALL of these characters but i chose to do ushijima since i’ve been wanting to write for him😻 i can always do the others if you want!!

Greatest in the League

a/n — i def put my own spin on this so i’m so sorry if it’s not exactly what you imagined😭🫶🏼 also made reader gn since a gender wasn’t specified . ALSO YES I MADE USHIJIMA OBLIVIOUS HE LITERALLY THOUGHT HINATA WAS GRIPPING ONTO BRAZIL BC HE WAS ON THE “OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD”

content — ushijima x gn! reader, ushijima and reader are married , fluff, set in time skip (at the olympics actually), secret relationship, honestly not much to talk abt, i think that’s it- lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis — Ushijima Wakatoshi, wing spiker and outside hitter for the Olympic men’s volleyball team, has a secret. Something only two people in the entire world know of, including him.

✿.｡.“ where’s the trophy? ”.｡.✿

one point.

one point was all that separated Japans men’s volleyball team from the champion title. a singular point that rested on Japans side of the net. Ushijima watched as the other team served

one. komori’s perfect receive- no one expected any less

two. atsumu’s terrifyingly beautiful set, every spiker they had running for the ball.

three. straight to ushijima wakatoshi.

the ball smacked against his palm, and boom. The other team had no time to even react as the wing spiker all but slammed the ball onto the other side of the court.

23-25

“AND JAPAN TAKES IT ALL!!” the announcers could be heard from the booth they were seated in. While the other team had shuffled off the court, the japan’s team was celebrating- many arms thrown around Ushijima, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

where were you?

The paparazzi had flooded the court, taking pictures of all the players while the giant trophy of the world’s best team was brought out, and yet ushijima needed to see you first.

“good job wakatoshi!” the males ears caught the three words, turning around as he heard your voice- spotting you standing at the railing that separated the many onlookers from the court.

“hey ushiwaka we need to take a pic with the trophy- hey where are you going?” he heard hoshiumi’s voice loud and clear, but his focus was on a familiar face in the crowd—yours. Without a second thought, he pushed through the throng of reporters and fans, his powerful strides carrying him swiftly toward you.

if there was one thing you hadn’t expected from ushijima after all the years of being together, it was this. you watched in awe as he came running over, the determined look on his face softening the moment he reached you. He didn’t say a word, simply enveloping you in a tight hug, causing many eyes and cameras to be turned towards the both of you.

After getting married two years ago the two of you had decided to keep your life out of the public eye, i mean- ushijima wouldn’t want his beautiful partner to get bombarded with all the questions that were sure to come their way, but as of right now he couldn’t care less.

ushijima wakatoshi was not a man of words, much rather showing his feelings through actions, so that he did. the star player leaned down before pressing a kiss to your lips, the camera flashes going off in the split second the two of your lips were connected.

“what’s with the photos?” he asked you as his hands rested on your waist.

ushijima wakatoshi was not a man of words, so when he had a post game interview with many bombarding questions about the person he had kissed, he’d decided actions would speak louder than words.

let’s just say, twitter and all news articles were buzzing about the outside hitters showing his left ring finger being adorned with a silver wedding band during the interviews.

✿.｡.“ he just comes running over to me ”.｡.✿

it’s super short and i actually hate it. i’m so sorry it took this long😭

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[cobaltperun]

Genius (2) - Restless

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 3.2k

-What time is it now where you are? We follow beats with different drums. We're looking at the same star-

Once upon a time you were precious to Cairo, her best friend, someone she played with, someone she read with, someone she read to, someone she could trust. She didn’t exactly meet you, you’ve been a part of her life way before she understood anything about the world around her. You came into her life as the daughter of her parents’ friends slash colleagues. A way for her parents to show their dominance, she supposed. Your parents weren’t as wealthy, as successful, or influential as her parents, and looking at it now, there may have been some envy and or superiority complex from one pair of parents to another.

It didn’t influence the two of you, you were just kids who happened to spend time together and have fun. She was a lonely child, as not a lot of kids wanted to even get close to Lovell Hill, but seeing as your parents kept bringing you along you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter at first.

Everything was much simpler before the two of you started going to school…

~X~

Clumsy.

That was the word she would have used to describe you back then.

“I don’t like it here, Cai,” you were smaller than her back then and you were frightened of the forest surrounding her house, even if you were close to the road. Insects freaked you out, you jumped at the smallest sounds, you were so easy to scare, but Cairo really wanted to show you something nice in the forest, to show you it wasn’t all bad.

She’s been holding your hand, pulling you along through the dark forest, unlike you she wasn’t afraid or freaked out by the forest. It was a part of her world, unapproachable, haunting, yet beautiful at the same time. Of course, back then she just took it for granted, it was around her house so of course she didn’t mind it.

“Cai, come on, let’s go back,” you tried again, but you still went along with her whims.

“C’mon, it’s close!” she was excited to take you to the bush of wild roses she came across a few days ago.

You groaned, but didn’t put up a fight and then, just as she was supposed to see the bush, she dropped your hand, and you stumbled right into her. But she didn’t get annoyed, she was too confused, too distraught by the sight of an old tree that fell over the bush.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, yet she still didn’t respond. “Cai? Cairo?” you probably followed her line of sight, as you let out a small ‘oh’ a few seconds later.

She wasn’t that smart back then, she didn’t funny understand what she was feeling, but looking back at that moment now she figured that was the first time she began understanding the nature of her home. A beautiful flower growing despite harsh environmental conditions, only to be crushed by an old decaying good for nothing tree way past its prime. The forest around her house, the whole village, functioned the same way. And though she longed to be free, to spread her wings, to bloom outside of the restraints placed upon her by her surrounding, she couldn’t. She too, much like the rose bush she failed to show you, didn’t know how to escape the earth she was stuck in.

‘I’ll do it before I start high school,’ she thought, but didn’t know where to start, and she didn’t have anyone to do it with.

‘I’ll do it during high school,’ she thought, but she never had the courage to even get on a bus to the nearby town.

‘I’ll do it after I graduate,’ was her newest mantra, but deep down she feared what was to come.

She’s been told repeatedly that she was exceptional.

It was easy to be exceptional when everyone around her seemed content with their lives here. Never striving to stand out.

But, she didn’t understand that as a six years old girl standing in the middle of the forest with you by her side. But she did feel like something was breaking her heart.

“Hey,” you took her hand ad for once you were pulling her away from the crushed rose bush, as if understanding somehow that she didn’t want to stay there, even if she didn’t move on her own. Your hand was warm, though not nearly as warm as the tears falling down her cheeks, and she often wondered what you felt at that moment? What did you see when you looked from the roses on the ground to her? Did it change you in any way? Or was it just another day or you? Something you forgot within days, or even hours.

She never really asked you, but the sight stayed burnt in her mind and she still hated how well she could visualize it if she only thought back to it.

~X~

You stopped complaining about the forest after that, you still didn’t like it, but, she didn’t have to drag you along anymore.

“Get it off me!” you cried, but still ran away from her. You were panicking about a spider that fell on your shoulder.

“So, stop running!” Cairo laughed, running after you to ‘save’ you from the evil monster that attacked you. It wasn’t even a big spider, it was tiny!

“Fine, but hurry up,” you whined, finally stopping and letting Cairo catch up to you.

Cairo looked you over, but didn’t see the spider. “It’s not here? Maybe it fell off?” she guessed. Well, with how you were running it wouldn’t be a surprise.

“Really?” you asked as she sat down on the grass.

“Yeah, come on and sit down,” she needed to catch her breath or a bit.

You just shook your head. “No. Bugs!” you pointed an accusing finger at the ground and as usual refused Cairo’s offer to sit with her.

Why did she even bother to ask you? She knew you’d say ‘no’. “Oh,” her eyes widened slightly when she saw the spider crawling back up to your shoulder. “Guess it didn’t fall off after all,” she chuckled uneasily.

“What?” you shrieked and looked to the side. “Cairo you meanie!”

Cairo just laughed as she finally got up and removed the small spider from your shoulder.

She was still six, and there, in the dark, spooky forest where a rose bush could never thrive, things were still simple.

~X~

At nine years old she was spending time at your house every now and then. And on one stormy day, when the two of you had no idea what to do, since you couldn’t go outside and the power was out, she just passed time by looking over the books your parents owned.

Finally, her eyes landed on Jules Verne’s “Around the World in Eighty Days,” and she reached up for it. The world. How she yearned to explore it, to see something beside the village she lived in, to see the huge cities, to go to the biggest amusement parks, to visit the best bookstores, to experience things she couldn’t in this village.

So, yearning for the experience the book title promised, she brought it over to you and sat down. “Wanna read?” she offered, her big eyes pleading or you to say yes.

You looked a bit uncertain, but eventually you just nodded and lit a candle so the two of you could read.

Cairo hugged you briefly and pulled you to the floor so you could lie down and read together. She was mesmerized, amazed by the idea, eager to read more and mentally pleading for you to read faster, but, by the time she would finish two pages you’d just start reading the second page.

“Sorry, I’m not a fast reader,” you apologized when you noticed she was waiting to turn the page.

It wasn’t that you read slowly, you read about as fast as anyone could expect from an eight year old, it was Cairo that was reading faster than she was supposed to. “Would you- I don’t know, read it to me? I think that might be quicker?” you suggested.

Cairo thought it over and nodded happily. Maybe it wouldn’t be as fast as if she only had the book for herself, but she wouldn’t have to pause. So, you rolled onto your back and put your arms behind your head as she began reading from the very beginning.

And to show just how much both of you enjoyed the book you kept reading, even as the power came back on and the rain stopped. It didn’t matter, you were still stuck in your book.

“Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” Cairo read as your mother came in with glasses of juice and some snacks for the two of you.

“What are you two doing?” she asked, curiously looking at the open book in front of Cairo.

“We’re reading, ma’am,” Cairo said politely as your mother crouched down next to you.

“Reading? This one as well?” your mother nudged you gently and you grinned.

“Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” You repeated word for word the last line Cairo read, and she and your mother just looked at you. “What? I was listening,” your grin dropped and you pouted slightly.

That was the first time Cairo realized that while she could remember almost anything she saw you could memorize sounds just as well.

~X~

It was simple and nice for another two years, and then it began shifting slowly. For the first time in her life Cairo didn’t get an A, she didn’t even get a B, but rather a C, but it would be fine, right? She was still the best in her class, seeing as only her and you got Cs, and it was a difficult test, the teacher said so as well!

She came inside to find her parents looking over some papers. A new case probably. “Father, mother,” she said a bit too quietly for her own liking. “I got the results for my test. I did my best and studied as much as I could, and the teacher said it was a-“

“Get to the point, Cairo,” her father cut her off.

Cairo looked down, test in hand. Why did the furniture around her suddenly look so much bigger than her. It felt like everything was looming over her, and just for a moment she remembered the sight of that rose bush crushed under the fallen tree. “I got a C,” she told them timidly.

Her mother finally looked at her. “A C? Are you stupid? How could you get a C?” Cairo winced at that but hearing that wasn’t nearly as bad as looking at her mother and seeing just how disappointed she was.

“We’ve given you everything, Cairo, and you’re wasting it playing all day long!” her father raised his voice, angry, furious even and she just looked down. “You are grounded, go to your room and fix this disgrace!”

She nodded, not daring to meet his eyes and began climbing up the stairs.

“Wait, what did L/N’s girl get?” her father suddenly demanded.

“A-a C as well,” she said and all hell broke loose as she curled up on her bed and tried to ignore her parents yelling, she was a disappointment, a burden, wasting their time and efforts, an ungrateful brat that would rather waste time running through the woods than study.

Unknowingly to her, you were having a much different conversation with your parents.

~X~

“Y/N,” your mother began once you were done eating dinner.

“Hm?” you looked away from the paper you were doodling on and turned to her.

“Did you get your test results?” she asked, smiling when you nodded.

“Yup! I got a C!” you exclaimed proudly causing both of your parents to look at you to see if you were joking with them.

“A C?” your father repeated, and you just nodded with a large grin on your face. “And you’re happy?”

“Yeah, it was really hard, even Cai only got a C!” you ran over to your schoolbag to show them the test.

You mother chuckled softly. “Well, if even Cairo got a C,” she smiled as you handed her the test. “I’m proud of you as long as you did your best,” she kissed your cheek softly.

~X~

When tomorrow came and you sat down next to Cairo she wanted to say hi, she wanted to talk to you like she usually would, she wanted to go and read with you again, but she still remembered the anger on her father’s face, the disappointment on her mother’s face, her blurry vision as she cried in her room.

She yearned for the attention of her parents, to have them talk to her, to take her to different places, to take her along with them at least every now and then, yet being the best student in her class wasn’t enough, and the mistake she made wasn’t to be tolerated.

“Hey, wanna play hide and seek later?” you asked between classes.

“Sorry, I have to study,” she muttered.

“Oh, tomorrow then?” she wanted to, she really did, but she didn’t want to get yelled at again.

“I don’t have time,” Cairo told you, making her tone as cold as she could.

“Cai, what’s wrong?” you were too perceptive for your own good.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, she didn’t mean to, she loved the nickname, it was the only nickname she ever had.

You paused, startled by her reaction. “Right, sorry,” you looked away.

“Just leave me alone, I’ll come to you if I feel like it,” she pushed you away, physically and stomped away, just so you couldn’t see the regret or tears in her eyes.

~X~ Present day ~X~

Cairo looked at you, her eyes wide in utter disbelief. You listened to her back then, you didn’t try to talk to her, you were waiting for her to come to you. Back then she wished she did that, she wished to do it every day. At the same time she wanted you to forget what she said, to approach her and get her to talk to you, to grab her hand and stop her from leaving. You never did that. So, a week passed, and she was still stubborn.

A month passed, and she was no longer stubborn, but she was worried you’d be angry that it took her so long.

Half a year passed, she turned twelve and spent her first birthday without you around, and that worry turned into spite. Out of spite she kept you at a distance, not even saying ‘hi’.

And then, shortly after that you moved with you parents and she wanted desperately to cry, but that would only make her parents angry at her again.

“Y/N,” she said uncertainly, despising how, even after so many years your name still fell so easily from her lips, how it still felt familiar on her tongue. You changed, grew up, grew taller than her, even if you were taller than her ever since the two of you were ten, now your height difference was noticeable even as you sat next to each other.

A cough broke her out of her thoughts. Right, the class just started. “I apologize,” she blushed a bit, thankful for the distraction. Thankful that she could listen to the author she admired, yet his words sounded so distant to her. You were right there, close enough to touch and Cairo felt hot and cold at the same time. She was happy, yet she couldn’t help but wonder how long ago you came back. Why didn’t you look for her? You said her name so softly, you didn’t make a scene, surely you weren’t angry at her, but why didn’t you try and visit?

It’s been years, surely you didn’t still intend to listen to her childish demand.

~X~

You could feel how tense she was throughout the whole class, glancing at you subtly from time to time and you wished to just reach over and place your hand on her shoulder. To ask her what was wrong. To not give up this time like you did all those years ago.

The bell rang but the two of you remained seated, neither truly willing to move, until finally, under Miller’s confused gaze, Cairo picked up her things and nodded at him to say goodbye.

“Cairo, wait,” you went after her and Winnie. “Let’s just grab a lunch, or old times sake?” you went straight to the point. This was Cairo, after all, she like subtlety, especially in books, but she also liked being direct when she wanted something. “I know a restaurant, I think you’ll like it,” you said when she looked at you.

“You had time to visit those, I see,” Cairo said, and you could have sworn she looked away almost bitterly.

“Cairo,” you tried, but she was already turning around to walk away. You felt as if something was squeezing your chest, a feeling of unease you couldn’t shake off, like letting her leave now, like this, would be a mistake you couldn’t come back from. And in that moment, you were reminded of you and her, years ago, as your friendship shattered. “I didn’t mean in the village,” you called after her, taking notice of the way Winnie froze and Cairo stiffened a bit.

“What?” she looked back, frowning as you closed the distance and offered her your hand.

“Let me take you out to a restaurant about an hour from here. Good food, peaceful, beautiful view, perfect for catching up. They even have live music,” you explained, just hoping she’d take your hand.

Winnie whistled at that. “Nice going new girl. Throw the girl a bone, Cairo,” she nudged Cairo a bit, but the girl remained silent, and you could almost imagine the gears turning in her head.

“Okay,” Cairo finally said, shaking your hand.

“Come on- wait, really?” Winnie looked genuinely surprised and just stared at your and Cairo’s connected hands.

“Thanks, Cairo,” you smiled softly.

“Is Saturday okay with you?” she asked, her expression softening as she took a small step closer to you. “Yeah,” the two of you just stood there, in the middle of the hall, in front of Miller’s classroom, as if captivated by one another to the point of forgetting the world around you.

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund

[readychilledwine]

helloooo! had a super random idea that I thought I’d throw your way but if you don’t want to write it, no worries! i know there’s not really dragons in acotar but what if one of the bat boys (whoever you want to write this for) encounters a group of dragons and find an illyrian with them who was raised by dragons. (The dragons think she’s one of them bc she has wings lol) a female who was abandoned by their parents because they wanted a son or something like that. (but now I’m thinking what if she was cassian’s long lost sister or something but in that case obviously she wouldn’t be paired with cassian lol) and she’s basically like half feral and whoever you pair her with is her mate and cannot convince her to go with them to velaris but they figure it out somehow 🥹 and when they finally do she’s just like baffled by simple things like dresses and kitchen utensils and how soft their beds are 😂 and now the night court has a small army of dragons because they listen to her 🤷🏽‍♀️ you can make her an OC if you want!

I can respond to this now that Bound by Fate Part 3 is up and has some traction 🤣 I was going to ask if you got into my Google drive somehow. Kaylee is going to have a similar journey to this only Kaylee's is going to be based on the concept that magic has a price, and the more magic she uses, the bigger the price, where as this journey will be about finding her humanity.

I'm pretty excited about this. Not gonna lie. 💜

Flight Patterns Part 1

Summary - After years of hushed whispers and leads, Azriel has finally found Cassian's lost sister, Aerilyn. What he found with her was unexpected, though.

Warnings - violence

A/n - Aerilyn is going to be fairly feral for these first few parts. Also, she speaks sindarian (like Lord of the Rings elves sindarian, so translations will be at the end of the chapters)

Part Two Part Three

Aerilyn stared at the male wrapped in shadows as if she'd never seen another illyrian before. As if she'd never seen another fae before, Azriel thought to himself.

She was beautiful, exactly as he had expected her to be, with her long dark hair cascading into waves behind her, her tanned unmarked skin, the bright burning hazel eyes. She was a softer, smaller, and delicate version of Cassian. 

Azriel approached her slowly, his hands raised in front of him. " I do not want to hurt you. I have been looking for you for a very, very long time." Over 319 years to be exact. With you right under our noses this whole time, he thought bitterly to himself. 

She had been left to die after her wings were taken. Thrown into the Illyrian woods beaten and bloodied before Cassian eventually burnt that Camp to the ground. She was three at the time. How she survived was a mystery, one Azriel knew they'd need to figure out.

She eyed him cautiously, her head tilted to the side before taking a step back and away from him. "I won't hurt you, Aerilyn." Her eyes narrowed, but then she suddenly relaxed. A small smile forming on her face as Azriel felt the ground shaking behind him. 

He felt the warm breath of whatever it was before the deep growl came. His eyes shut slowly at the scent of ember and rot that lingered in the air. He turned slowly, feeling shock set into his system as he sat face to face with a fire Drake. He felt the ground rumble again, then again, and once more. Rhys. I'm going to need help. Now. Drop whatever the fuck you're doing.

Cassian and Rhys appeared beside him instantly. A grumbled, "Cauldron fucking drown me," leaving the generals mouth as they all stood back to back. "Azriel, what the fuck?"

Azriel looked to where Aerilyn stood, her eyes locked on Cassian and her head tilted to the side. "She knows you, Cass. And they're protecting her."  He could tell his brother was avoiding looking at her. Avoiding the pain that'd come from how much she truly looked like their mother. 

Rhysand grabbed their hands. "You have 30 seconds, Cassian or I'm getting us the fuck out of here." 

Cassian glanced at his little sister, his heart tightening in his chest at how small she was. They held eye contact for a moment and he lowered his weapons and held his hands up to her. He took one step and an immediate growl and shift came from the winged beast closest to him. A deep warning not to approach her. "Would she have memories of anything specific? Something special between the two of you?" Rhys asked softly. "I can't get into her head. It's.. it's a mess, Cassian."

Cassian didn't notice the feather light touch in Rhysand's jaw, the way his eyes kept flickering to the female in concern. Azriel had, though. He noted the immediate change in Rhysand's body language. The calm and composed High Lord was struggling to maintain himself.

Azriel would have laughed if there wasn't a black scaled beast staring him down as if he was nothing more than a delicious snack.

Cassian spoke to her softly. "When you were little, you had a little stuffed bunny. His name was Sir Hop." A flicker of recognition went across her face. Cassian took a small step forward. The beast growled softer this time. "I still have him," the soft confession hung in the air. "Rhysand's mom enchanted it. She made sure he'd never stop smelling like you. You could not sleep without him or me. Mom said you just tossed and turned crying constantly if he went missing or I was gone. I always worried about if you were sleeping when our father ripped me from the house." Another tentative step, but no growl chilling the three of them to the core. 

She studied Cassian hard. Stepping close to him until they were but an arms length away. Her brain knew him. It screamed for her to remember him. She didn't understand all of his words, but she knew his voice. His scent. "Come with me," Cassian offered. "Come home with me." 

"Cassian, 5 seconds. If she does not take your hand in 5 seconds, we are done here." Rhys warned as one of the beasts, a lighter Grey monster that seemed to blend into its surroundings leaned closer to the High Lord and growled. 

For whatever reason, this beast wanted him dead. 

"Duar," a feminine voice that reminded Rhysand of finely aged wine, spoke softly. The beast coiled away from him with one last growl. She was so close to Cassian, breathing in the scent of a warm fire and winter winds. 

"You have a freckle on your ribs," Cassian whispered, his hand reaching out to touch right above her heart. "Right here." She allowed him to bring her into him. He held her close as her arms stayed at her side.

Rhys took the chance, his hands shooting for Cassian and Azriel and winnowing them back to the townhouse with heavy breaths. 

The hug was no longer gentle, not as her fight began. Aerilyn kicked, screamed, and fought as Cassian pulled her into the warded house. Madja was there and ready, knowing the girl would need medical attention and an evaluation. 

After watching her land a harsh closed fist onto Rhysand's cheek as he spoke to her, Madja immediately switched what she had planned, grabbing a needle filled with a sedative and shoving it into the illyrian female's arm.

"I'm sorry," Cassian cried as he lowered her to the floor. "I'm so fucking sorry. Shhhh it's okay. It's okay, you're safe." 

His sister fell asleep in his arms, wrapped tight against his body as he rocked her back and forth against his chest. 

Rhysand held his jaw, "She knows s few words and the alphabet. We will need to work on that to communicate with her," he ground out. "She can speak an ancient language I do not even know, but Amren might. Also, she's my fucking mate." 

Cassian watched in silence as Rhysand left the room, went upstairs, and slammed another door shut with a soft click to indicate he had locked it. 

Madja inclined her head to the bed they had ready for her, "Lay her down. I don't need her awake to know how healthy she is or what she needs."

Duar - "stop/hault"

[bimobuddy]

Wings

I'm back :]

SFW Hazbin tk fic

Lee!Lucifer, lers: basically everyone else

CW: God is a character in this, however I'll try not to refer to him by name, in case that makes anyone uncomfortable. Also Swearing.

The God I have in mind is similar to (but not exactly) that fan-design with the four floating eyes, look it up, it's great. I am making my own design of him though that I might post if y'all want me to. He's a total dad in this btw, I wanted something fluffy and comforting.

Summary: it's just various moments throughout Lucifer's life when he's had his wings tickled

"Lucifer, darling- Hold still! .. Shi- Darn."

He sighed, watching his youngest son half-fly-half-scramble away. Sure he was -The- Father, but he was still -A- father. And right now he was trying to catch one of his most difficult children to preen his wings. Luckily, Lucifer couldn't get very far with his wings still being small and mostly soft downy feathers. And being a very predictable child, his father knew exactly where he was going.

The deity left the palace and headed out toward the garden. It was still a work in progress, not quite ready for earth yet, so while he worked on it, he kept it in Heaven for his children to play in. Lucifer loved it, especially for a certain animal he had recently been allowed to create.

And sure enough, the youngest angel was by the pond, laying on his tummy, gleefully watching the ducks. His father shook his head in amusement. "Lucifer-" He started, but before he could finish, the child squeaked and jumped up, trying to run again. However his father was quicker, easily approaching him in just two steps and scooping him up.

"I believe we were in the middle of something, son?" He said, shifting his hold on Lucifer to carry him in one arm. The young angel pouted. "No thank you." He said, earning a laugh from his father. "I know it tickles, but it needs to be done. You're growing out of your baby-feathers, and soon you'll have big-kid feathers growing in, and you want them growing in neatly right?"

Lucifer frowned, as if really thinking about it. Finally he nodded. "Yes." His father nodded in return, "Good. Let's get started then." He took a moment to sit down in the grass, knowing his son would just run off again when they were done.

As he started to gently run his fingers through his son's wings, he winced a little when a shrill squeal rang out. How can something so small and sweet make such an aggressively loud noise? He couldn't help but chuckle as Lucifer frantically flapped all six of his little wings, trying to get away, giggling his heart out.

Soon enough, they were done. The second the deity pulled his hands up and released his son, Lucifer was off, running back to the pond, where a couple of his brothers were. The father thought it was sweet until Lucifer tackled one of them for getting to close to 'his' ducks.

He sighed and went to separate them. "Kids will be kids, I suppose."

- - -

Lucifer flew through the clouds as if his life depended on it. "Come back here, Luci-Loo!" Came the voice of his older brother, Michael.

The teenager took a sudden, sharp dive toward the lake, hoping to lose his brothers. Yet again, it was preening season. Their father had since given up on Lucifer the moment he really learned how to fly, and left that job to his older brothers, who were better at keeping up with him.

As he approached the ground, he angled his wings to pull up at the last second. By the sound of a loud splash, followed by the voice of Uriel yelling after him, he knew his trick had worked, even if just on one brother. He glanced behind him to see both Michael and Gabriel still hot on his trail.

What he was not expecting, however, was to almost crash into his eldest brother, Raphael. He flapped his right wings to turn, but due to his speed, he just narrowly avoided his brother and crashed into the ground.

Raphael sighed, "Seriously, Lucifer? You're 116 and still running from preening? Honestly, you're acting like a fledgling, just sit still for it."

Lucifer was about to argue, only to be very violently tackled at high speed by his immediate older brother, Gabriel, so hard it left a dent in the grass from where they skidded. Michael landed next to them. "Nice going, Gabe, now his wings are even dirtier." He said, though his face clearly showed amusement.

The two youngest brothers wrestled on the ground for a bit, Lucifer desperately trying to get away while grinning in anticipation, and Gabriel trying to pin him face-down so his wings were accessible.

Raphael crossed his arms, though a slight hint of amusement played on his own face. "Lucifer, is it really that bad?" "YES! MICHAEL'S MEAN ABOUT IT!" The eldest turned to Michael, grinning a little. "Are you mean about it?" "Maybe just a little. I learned from Azrael after all." He said, elbowing Raphael before sitting on the back of Lucifer's legs.

Gabriel had Lucifer face-down, sitting in front of him while he held his arms down, knowing the youngest was a fighter. Producing a comb, Michael got started, using his left hand to hold a single wing down while his right ran the comb through Lucifer's feathers.

Immediately, his other five wings started to flap rapidly, a couple even hitting Michael square in the face by accident. The poor angel was squeaking in a poor effort to not laugh.

Raphael rolled his eyes and decided to help. He sat down and pushed all sets of wings down, holding them in place. "Alright, Michael, hurry up, you know the longer this goes on, the harder he's going to come after us, when this is over."

Knowing this was true, Michael got started, running the comb through his feathers once again. Lucifer snorted and practically exploded with loud, bubbly laughter. "NAHAHAHA! NOHOHO! FFF-" "Don't curse," Raphael warned. "I WAHASN'T GOHOING TO!"

"Liar." Gabriel grinned, holding his wrists down with one hand, using the other to gently scritch at his ribs, causing Lucifer to screech and bury his face into the ground. Raphael gave his brother a look. "Don't overwhelm him, Gabriel, his wings are bad enough already. You know he's had trouble breathing in the past with you two taking it too far."

Gabriel stopped, looking back at Michael. "I would have stayed in my room if I knew Raph was going to take us on a guilt-trip." He grumbled, earning a laugh from Michael.

Once they had gotten his wings fully preened and combed out, all three sat back and let him up. Lucifer lay there panting, still giggling occasionally. Raphael reached out to pat him on the head, as he usually did with his brothers after a preening, only to be stopped when Lucifer suddenly sat up.

"You all have five minutes to run and hide."

Alarmed, all three took off.

- - -

Lucifer lay there, in the arms of his wife, solemnly looking up at the pentagram sky that separated him from all he had ever known. Lilith could only imagine how hard it was for him to be cast out and separated from his family and childhood home. She hadn't had a family or a childhood to miss. But as far as she was concerned, Lucifer was her family now, and she hated seeing him in so much emotional pain.

She ran a comforting hand down his back, between his wings, only to be startled as he sharply inhaled and flinched. She pulled her hand away quickly, "I'm sorry, are you hurt?" She asked, easily lifting him under the arms to look at him (which really flustered the short angel.)

"No, no, darling, I'm not hurt, it just.. it tickled." He said. As Lilith set him back down in her lap, he blushed and looked down. "You can...." He looked back up at her, "You can keep going... If you want to, that is.. My brothers used to do it.. I guess it's comforting in a way."

Lilith smiled softly, running her hand through his hair, loving the way he leaned into it. "Alright, my love." She whispered, gentle hands returning to his wings. Lucifer laid back down in her lap, arms around her waist, as his wings twitched and lightly fluttered, giggles flowing from him like music.

Maybe eternity like this wouldn't be so bad after all.

- - -

That morning in the Hotel had been complete chaos. It started with Charlie chasing Vaggie around, having discovered her wings were ticklish. The girls continued to play for nearly an hour before Charlie finally got her girlfriend tapping out.

The princess easily scooped up her angel and kissed her cheek, while said angel was practically pouting. "It's not fair, I'm a soldier, I'm not supposed to have such a weakness. Imagine if someone outside the hotel found out-" Vaggie didn't get very far before Charlie set her down. "Oh come on, it's okay that you have tickwy wittle wings~" She teased, causing her girlfriend to blush.

"Besides, the Devil himself is way worse, watch." She grinned, looking over at a very startled Lucifer who had apparently overheard everything. As Charlie ran at him, he spread his wings and flew upward to jump over her. The more his daughter chased after him, the more he turned it into a game, because of course he would.

Everytime Charlie got close, Lucifer would laugh and leap out of the way, even jumping off the walls to keep out of reach. "You're gonna have to try harder than thAAT!?" He yelped, feeling something wrap around his ankle and yank him to the floor. When he got a good look at it, he saw it was one of Alastor's shadows.

"Oh come on, you fucking-" "Oh, I do apologize, your highness, but I can't have you getting your disgusting shoe prints on my walls." Alastor grinned, clearly enjoying the scene before him.

Lucifer was about to snap back, but was cut off by Charlie sitting on top of him, immediately burying her fingers into his wings, causing the devil to shriek, a couple of his wings beating the floor. He had forgotten how ruthless his daughter was.

"C-CHAHAHAHARILIE!"

"See, Vaggie, even the king of Hell has ticklish wings, it's completely fine that you do too." Charlie said casually, as if she weren't absolutely wrecking said king.

Lucifer's laughter shot up an octive as he felt those damned shadow tendrils burying themselves under his feathers under all six wings. He started kicking his feet against the floor and trying to push Charlie's evil hands away.

"FAHAHAHAHACK! FUHUCK OFF, BAMB- NOHOHOHO WAITWAITWAHAIT!" Lucifer squealed like a child as he felt another shadow emerge underneath him, swiping at his spine. right between his shoulder blades. All six wings furiously beat at the floor in an attempt to get those tendrils away from him, but it didn't work.

Charlie grinned, gently scritching right into the 'wing pits' of his middle set of wings, having been told by her mother that it kills him. And sure enough, the king practically screamed. His legs stopped kicking and his wings stopped beating as he could only lay there and take it, laughing loudly.

It wasn't until his face got red that she stopped. And it wasn't until Charlie stopped that Alastor did as well. He personally would have kept going, but he figured Charlie would have his head if he pushed her father any further.

Lucifer panted heavily, unable to stop himself from giggling, a little loopy from it all. He looked up at Charlie. "G-Grohounded." Charlie grinned, "You can't ground me, I'm an adult." Lucifer shook his head, "Nuh-uh."

She got off of him and helped him up. Alastor came over and 'innocently' placed a hand on Lucifer's back as a 'friendly gesture,' resulting in the angel snapping his wings shut and de-summoning them.

And being one for revenge, Lucifer lunged at the radio demon, starting the cat-and-mouse game all over again.

[mermaidfanficlibrary]

Hello, Hello!!

I hope my request isn't much of a burden-- however, I was wondering if you could do a one-shot with the decay of angels(Fyodor, Nikolai, and Sigma) with a male reader who has white wings?

Quick rundown for the idea;

The reader is the leader of a different organization called the Aviators; the Reader doesn't exactly have an ability but they do have wings-- the reader and their group side with the Armed Detective Agency because reader is heavily in love with bringing people to Justice, like the Decay Of Angels; however, something goes wrong and the reader gets captured while the three DOA members figure out what to do with them.

You can choose if it's more yandere-like or violent, I don't mind, really!! I usually write requests longer but I'm in a rush <\\3

These wings bind me | Bungou Stray Dogs x Male Reader

Characters: Nikolai Gogol, Fyodor, Sigma

Summary: Those wings you had didn't even grant you freedom

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Gore, Obsessive behavior, manipulation, death, kidnapping

Taglist: @nightshade-clown

A/n: This is very Nikolai heavy because I am biased. Also, sorry, the wings aren't mentioned as much

Y/n was a big name in Yokohama, well, a moderately big name. He was a well-known justice bringer with his group called the Aviators. It was a group of people who thought everyone deserved freedom and the choice on where their wings take them. Some of them were like Y/n, with giant wings granting them flight through the sky. 

But some had abilities that helped with bringing justice into the world. Y/n heavily believed in bringing justice to everything that tried to inflict on it. The Aviators seemed to be of decent popularity that even the ADA sought them out as an extra branch. The two organizations were seen as partner groups, essentially. 

Y/n still did whatever he really wanted under his association, but he would give the ADA extra people when they needed them. The same went with the ADA sending the Aviators people when they required them. It was quite the relationship between the organizations. No one really expected it, since Y/n was more about vigilante work and the ADA worked with the government in a way. 

But here is the leader of the Aviators, analyzing a case with some of ADA's best detectives. Dazai, Kunikida, Autsushi and Y/n were all lurking around the crime scene, looking for any form of evidence to link anyone or anything to the scene. Y/n was with Atsushi, as not wanting to deal with Dazai's shenanigans or Kunikida's harsh comments. Atsushi and Y/n were decent acquaintances and worked well with each other.

The two made basic small talk as they searched the crime scene and conversed with passerbys to see if any of them were a reliable witness. Atsushi left Y/n on his own to look for something, though Y/n didn’t know what. He was on his own, just standing out in the open, it seemed pretty safe with the amount of people around. However, there was something off, and Y/n felt it. 

Something in him made his white iridescent wings fluff out in anxiety. None of Y/n’s associates were near bye, and that worried Y/n. No one was there to protect him if something bad were to happen, well, something incredibly bad. Y/n could fend for himself, he knew basic martial arts, but against ability users all he could really do was fly to avoid as many hits as he can until back up comes. 

Y/n wasn’t completely helpless, but he preferred being with someone who could save him if he were in trouble. Y/n didn’t only feel just one pair of eyes on him, but multiple. They were watching him, marking his move and every twitch he made. But Y/n didn’t know who was watching him.

Just as the paranoia subsided, Y/n was swept away from where he was standing. The kidnapper knocked him out, and everything else was blurry in his head. Atsushi came back only to find where Y/n stood was blank. He wasn’t the only one who was worried, however. 

Atsushi went to his two fellow co-workers and told them what had happened, both seemingly hid their panic on the inside. Those other pairs of eyes that kept a close watch on Y/n left, to find their dearly beloved Angel. The crime scene was left barren by both the ADA and the Decay of Angels. Both were on the hunt to get Y/n back.

Sigma, Nikolai, and Fyodor looked everywhere in Yokohama, all the places they knew Y/n might have been taken. But there was no luck, not until a few days later. It was late at night, and the three DOA members followed some of what passing witnesses said they heard or saw a couple of days before. There was a tiny sliver of hope in all three men. 

Nikolai was the first to step into the abandoned shed that rested near a busy roadway. It was covered in foliage and trees, keeping the whole building a secret, or so it seemed. Nikolai, however, paid no mind to any of that, only focused on finding his Angel. Fyodor and Sigma only followed Nikolai, keeping the white haired man at a distance. 

The two didn’t trust anything about this place. They were prepared for any form of attack from anyone. Nikolai wondered in, carefree, not caring about anything else other than his Angel. The three stopped in their tracks as they heard metal bars swishing around. 

Nikolai ran in deeper into the building, stopping to marvel at the sight of a beautiful golden cage. What quickly knocked him out of the trance was the iridescent, feathered wings of his Angel. Nikolai felt angry that someone would do this to his Angel, no one should cage his dearly love up like this. He jumped up against boxes that were stacked to reach the cage. 

Y/n was startled by the sudden stop of the cage he was trying to escape from. He looked outside the bar with teary, enraged eyes. He was met with piercing blue gray eyes that streamed raw anger, yet there was love that trickled lightly. Y/n was left so confused as he just stared deep into the eyes that looked back. 

Y/n didn’t notice two others walking into the room that held him in the golden cage. The metal shined slightly with the whisps of moonlight beaming through the cracks of the wooden roof. Sigma glanced up to see Nikolai gazing at Y/n, holding the cage still. Something wasn’t right about the whole situation. 

Fyodor felt the same as Sigma as the two shared a knowing look of imminent danger. They stood back to back, covering each other's blind spots. Nikolai used his ability to bring himself into the cage. Y/n was taken aback by what this man did, why bring himself into the cage?

Nikolai crouched down to meet Y/n’s face, a sickly smile graced his face. It unsettled the winged boy, he tried to move out of range, but he was stuck to the floor of the cage. He felt the touch of Nikolai, and it increased the anxiety that floating in him. He brought Y/n into a warm embrace, his smile not ceasing from his lips. 

Nikolai gave the other two men a knowing look, and they nodded in agreement. The kidnapper seemed to notice the three and came out of the shadows. Their eyes gleamed with insanity, their laughing was incoherent to the three men and Y/n. Y/n’s fear was practically spilling out of his body, and Nikolai noticed. 

“Don’t worry, my dear Angel, we’ll set you free!”

Y/n felt disgusted by that nickname, coming from a stranger. There was so much going on, he didn’t know what to make out of anything. Nikolai covered Y/n’s ears and brought him even closer to him. He silently whispered to him. 

“No need to be scared, my Angel. Everything will be okay. You’re safe now! Sigma and Dotsoy have it all covered!”

Just behind Y/n, Sigma and Fyodor were fighting the kidnapper. Their anger was shown in their attacks, and it was scaring the kidnapper. The hood fell off, and it showed the face of the persecutor. Y/n glanced behind his back slightly and gasped as he saw the face of his kidnapper. 

“How did you find this place?! I was sure I kept everything out of the public eye!”

Sigma’s face stayed flat, but his emotions were clear to both the kidnapper and Fyodor. Nikolai was too busy with Y/n and comforting him to even notice. Fyodor managed to immobilize the assailant, pinning him to the ground. Sigma walked closer, as he bent down.

“It’s easy for us to find what we want. Now you will pay for stealing from us.”

Sigma looked at Fyodor with an approving look. Y/n and Nikolai were watching from the cage, Nikolai waiting for a change to get Y/n out of said cage. He gripped Y/n harder, to a point it hurt, but he didn’t want to let the h/c haired boy go. Blood splattered everywhere, as Fyodor used his ability to get rid of this pest. 

Y/n wasn’t shocked about the death and red soaking everything around him, but it amazed him how easily someone would end other's life. He has killed others before, but only because they were hurting and taking other’s freedom. Nikolai scooped Y/n into his slender arms, hopping out of the cage, unknown to Y/n how he did, but Y/n couldn’t get out of his grip. Y/n was then surrounded by Sigma and Fyodor. 

Y/n tried to stand, but his legs were still asleep and he collapsed. Sigma caught him, being careful of his white wings. As Sigma stroked Y/n’s h/c hair, loving how it felt against his fingers. Fyodor was busy taking care of the dead body, and Nikolai was gently touching Y/n’s wings. 

Y/n looked up at Sigma, with watery eyes glistening the little moonlight that let itself into the cracks. His lips quivered a bit, fear still settling in his heart after a traumatic event. Sigma brought one of his hands to cup Y/n’s cheek, wiping away tears that threatened to fall. Y/n’s voice was sweet and soft to the three men that surrounded him, they all slightly blushed, feeling honored to hear it. 

“Why did you come and save me?” 

Fyodor came back, gently walking to the side of Y/n. Y/n’s e/c eyes looked at Fyodor, he stopped slightly. Oddly enough, those e/c eyes froze Fyodor right in his place. He sighed, trying to keep Y/n’s eyes on him. 

“Why wouldn’t we? We adore you, my dear.”

Y/n was so confused and look to all three men. He didn’t know who any of these people were and why they were here. The silence filled the building, making Y/n even more uneasy. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him. 

Y/n looked back to Sigma, hoping he could bring himself to ask the most important question. For some reason, Y/n already knew the answer based on the grip Sigma had on him. The more Y/n slightly struggled to get out, the harsher Sigma’s grip became. The hope Y/n had was slowly diminishing. 

“Can I go home now?”

The quiver in his voice was noticeable. Nikolai slightly hugged Y/n’s back as a big grin once again found its way to his face. He was noticeably giggling, seemingly finding the question Y/n asked funny. He brought a hand to pat the winged boy’s head. 

“Oh, my dear Angel! Of course not! How else are we supposed to keep you safe if you go home? We can’t watch you every day now, can we?”

Y/n’s eyes widened, more questions and confusion were swirling in his head. Before Y/n could speak again, he was knocked out once again, but this time no one would come to save him. Fyodor carried the winged boy out of the building, leaving NIkolai and Sigma to walk behind him. 

Y/n woke up in a dark room, nothing but a bed, a desk, and a bathroom as all that filled the room. The bit of light came from a small lamp on the desk. Y/n panicked and ran to the door, trying to open it, but to no avail. His wings fluffed out in panic, feathers falling due to the amount of stress Y/n was under. 

Y/n fell to the ground, trying to hold in sobs. He was so busy with trying to not make a lot of noise, he didn’t notice the three people that came into the room. Y/n froze, feeling arms snake around his body. He frantically looked around and recognized the people as the ones who saved him. 

Sigma looked down to Y/n, seeing the fear in his eyes. It did something to him, he cupped Y/n’s face and brought his lips to Y/n’s. Y/n’s e/c eyes widened with fear, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to push Sigma away. Fyodor and Nikolai kissed Y/n’s cheeks softly, trying to calm the boy down.

Sigma spoke up, his voice was warm and loving.

"No need to worry anymore my doll, you are safe now. No one will take you from us. Never again."

Y/n choked back sobs. He didn't understand what went wrong. He remembered being with Atsushi, and somehow it came to him being caged once more.

What irony this was, wanting to bring freedom to others and not having any of his own.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[scekrex]

Ooh, babes! I've got another idea!

How about Adam and reader who love to sleep in late, but one time the reader is moving so much in his sleep that he accidentally wrapped himself up in the blanket, obviously hogging it all to himself after stealing it, like a burrito and somehow managed to atthe same time kick Adam off the bed which woke him up so quickly, wondering what the fuck just happened, looking around the room and looking at reader, cussing him out and trying to wake him up, grumbling that he got violently pushed off the bed by his boyfriend, demanding retribution and the reader just casually, not giving two flying fucks, just grumbling out that he will let Adam top that night 😂

I just think it would be extremely hilarious 😂

Just woke up but fuck it, Adam x reader is too important to keep ya waiting (and motivation is kicking in so I gotta use it before it's gone again)

Hidden in the sheets

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

With someone as important as Adam as your boyfriend, sleeping in was a rare thing and yet both of you loved it, honestly who didn't?

Adam had told you often that you were moving a lot in your sleep, that resulted in sleepy, lazy morning sex more than just one time, however it was nothing he ever truly complained about. Well, that was until that one day.

You both were able to sleep in, you had taken the day off, had canceled all plans because you wanted to stay inside with Adam for as long as possible, Adam had managed to move his appointment with Sera from morning to evening which gave you two a lot of time together.

The first man had already noticed that you squirmed and twitched a little more than usual nights when you fell asleep before he was even able to reach the bed. He didn't pay any mind to it though, got into bed with you and fell asleep eventually.

What he hadn't expected was to wake up in pain on the wooden floor of the bedroom. The taller one grunted as he got up, holding his back in pain. “Hey, shithead,” he said loudly in order to wake you up, but fuck, it was hard to figure out where exactly your face was. His hand came up to where he suspected your shoulder to be and shook you lightly.

The blanket that was big enough for the two of you was fully wrapped around you, the only thing Adam was able to see were your toes. Your face, or rather your entire head, was covered by the blanket, if he would've picked you up like that, you wouldn't have been able to do shit about it. But he wasn't in the mood for that, he simply wanted to go back to sleep, the first man was tired after all.

You showed no reaction to his words or his actions, so he sat down on the bed and leaned in closer to where he thought your face was, “Don’t fucking kick me out of the bed and act like you're fully asleep.” Well, what Adam didn't know was that you weren't acting, you were actually still fast asleep. The brunette saw your wings twitching underneath the blanket and sighed, realizing you probably didn't choose the situation you were in. God have mercy, you were truly a mess in every way possible, weren't you? But he liked you as a mess, you were his mess after all.

So he slowly untangled you, covered both you and him with the warm, soft fabric and went back to laying down beside you. “You’re gonna make that up for me babes, I hope you fucking know that. Can't just kick me outta the bed and expect to get away with it,” he whispered in your ear and that got you to wake up, at least enough to process his words and respond “I got hurt, you hear that? My fucking back hurts, what if it's permanent?” You snorted, clearly amused by his words and responded, “Yeah, whatever, I'll let you top tonight when you come back from your meeting with Sera,” you mumbled into the blanket before you rolled over to cuddle up against Adam's chest.

The brunette simply stared out of the window, perplexed with how easy you simply gave him the control for that evening. Eventually he wrapped his arms around you, followed by his wings. He heard a small sigh that escaped you and felt the hot breath on his skin.

[alsofrozenjokes]

obligatory wing preening fic

Grian was molting.

He had been for the past week, and in that time Scar had hardly seen him at all. Not that he was too disappointed, really, Cub had said that Grian got moody during molts, and given that ‘moody’ seemed to be a default for Grian, Scar was in no hurry to see that.

Though, maybe that was unfair. Grian had a reason to be upset after he’d told Scar he was going to do better, Scar’s fault, one hundred percent, he knew that, though.. Well, he wasn’t exactly sure when he could have spilt that big of a secret, especially when Grian was.. interested.. in his alter ego, but regardless, he had a reason to be upset! Scar understood! But lately Grian had been nice. He’d been lovely, really. Scar just loved being HotGuy with CuteGuy, even in a time where he was struggling to love any version of himself at all, where he resented every alter ego that stopped him from being Scar, that kept him from knowing who ‘Scar’ was. He still didn’t know, truthfully. He had very little idea, but he felt like he might be getting closer when he was with Cub in his apartment, hanging out, laughing, laying on each other..

But Grian had been nice. Scar didn’t go very much out of his way to see him outside of work, but he didn’t necessarily feel the need. Grian didn’t go much of anywhere, so he was always around when Scar was with Cub, teasing, chatting with Cub about chores, pretending that whatever he and Scar had wasn’t extremely strained and awkward. Though, in a way, pretending made it more real, and when they were superheroes, they were hardly pretending at all anymore, fighting crime and being awesome and loved by all.

Apparently though, Grian had somewhat irregular molts, and this made him moody and itchy and generally antisocial according to Cub. And respectfully, if that information was coming from Cub, Scar wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. Though, the sentiment did live equally with Scar’s sympathy. Apparently Grian shed most of his feathers all at once, leaving sections of bald spots and itching as the pins grew in. He had a history of plucking as well, a desperate attempt to speed up the process according to Cub, but that really made things worse, and Grian had to wear covers to help curb the temptation, even when he was home. Apparently they had all sorts of wing sweaters, which Scar thought was adorable, a suspicion that was confirmed when Cub sent him a picture.

Grian did not look happy in the picture. He also didn’t look like he knew it was being taken. Scar wouldn’t be snitching, that was for sure. Anyway, all of this was the reason that Scar was petrified at a text from Cub in a groupchat with Grian.

‘Do you want to come over?’ Scar said yes before the second text came through.

‘This is the height of Grian’s molt, and it’s about now I help get rid of the keratin sheaths.’

‘My favorite time of the year :)’

Grian butted in immediately, ‘Glad someone’s having a good time.’

‘I am.’ Cub didn’t miss a beat. Scar put his phone down before either of them could say anything more. Was this- was Cub inviting him over to preen Grian’s wings? Well, maybe they were both inviting him, Grian was on the groupchat, and he didn’t say anything.. Maybe molting was different from preening? Though the way Cub said it, it certainly sounded like he planned on touching them. Touching Grian’s wings, oh god, yeah, Scar was not doing that, he’d been hit in the face enough times to know how this would go down.

But he said he’d go. Cub was expecting him and Grian- well, Grian probably didn’t care much either way, but Cub was expecting him! He had to go!

But what to do for an avian that was molting.. Scar didn’t know many avians. He didn’t know much about the species at all. They had wings. He knew that. And lots of sharp bits. Lots of sharp bits. Eugh. Maybe he should bring a peace offering? Flowers? People liked flowers. Avians were people. Birds probably also liked flowers. Maybe if Scar brought a bouquet of flowers and stood quietly in the corner of the room there would be minimal violence. Peace offering. Oh! And waffles! Frozen waffles, Grian liked those! Yes, perfect, this would be perfect.

Scar didn’t see Cub’s face when he opened the door behind the massive bouquet of flowers and waffles he was holding, but he could imagine it wasn’t anything less than positively thrilled! Despite his impaired vision, he knew the apartment well enough by now to navigate to the coffee table by the couch, however that didn’t stop Cub from fretting over him, pulling him in the right direction and generally being adorable.

“Scar- this really wasn’t necessary-“ Cub tried, but Scar waved him off in a grand gesture.

“It was no problem at all! Everyone needs a little pick me up, especially when they’re feeling under the weather.”

“He’s not sick, Scar.”

“He might not be, but you’re injured!” Scar turned on Cub, only half teasing, “Look at you in that mysterious cast with that mysterious broken arm, you might never recover!” Scar set the flowers down, humming as he passed off the plastic bags of frozen waffles to Cub.

“Doctor said I’ll be fine in two more weeks. The healing is faster with..” Cub trailed off, looking into one of the bags, “These aren’t going to fit in our freezer.”

“It won’t heal if you’re cursed! And you very well might be cursed! I wouldn’t know! You won’t tell anyone how it happened!” Scar stopped when Grian snorted a soft chuckle, noticing him for the first time.

“I’m not dying, Scar. Ya goof.” Grian hunched himself up on his arms from his place on the floor where he’d presumably been laying face down on a pillow and blanket. He was shirtless, wings splayed out behind him- wings- oh god he looked terrible! “What’s in the bags?”

“Grian! You look like a porcupine! What happened? Your- Where-“

Cub groaned while Grian laughed, letting his head drop back on his pillow. Scar was startled when Cub yanked his arm, “Scar, I told you he’s molting. Don’t be a dick.”

“I- I didn’t-“

“It’s fine, Cub,” Grian huffed a laugh, shaking his head, “I know I look like a half-plucked chicken. Or a porcupine, whatever. Most avians don’t shed so many feathers at once, Scar, but molts are never pretty.”

“You look, fine, Grian,” Cub insisted, but Grian wasn’t having it,

“I’ve lost so many feathers that I can’t even fly. I look diseased. I know it and you know it and Scar knows it. Right, Scar?”

Scar startled, caught stuttering between a wolf and a bear, both of whom were staring at him intently, “He- just a little. Maybe a little sickly, a little-“ he stopped when Cub patted his shoulder, rolling his eyes. Still, Scar bit his lip, glancing back and finding his escape, “I’ll put these away! If they don’t all fit I’ll just keep the rest at my house,” he said quickly, snatching the bags of frozen waffles back from Cub and retreating over the couch to the small kitchen.

“Wait, what’s in the bag-? You have a house!? Where’s your house? What’s your address? Why haven’t we been invited to your house, you’re at ours all the time!” Scar ducked away, embarrassed, but Cub seemed to have his back, answering the first question to a resounding oOooOoooOoo from Grian. Score.

Cub sat down next to Grian on the blanket and the two of them began to talk about something or another, though Scar was a little preoccupied with the freezer which.. was admittedly quite a bit smaller than he remembered. The damn thing was a pain to open as well, always getting stuck on who knows what. Yeah, he.. he was going to have to bring a couple of these boxes home. Most of them, probably. Hm. Did he have room in his freezer for this many waffles? Oh dear.

When Scar tuned back into the conversation behind him, he was pretty sure Cub and Grian were speculating about his house and all the rich people stuff he had in it, which, quite honestly, was not a topic of conversation Scar wanted to indulge in, so instead he stood stiff in the kitchen, vainly hoping he’d be forgotten about and Cub would finish preening Grian’s wings and everything would be fine.

“Hey, Scar? Whatcha doing?” Darn. Busted. Cub looked up from where he was sitting at Grian’s side, wing in lap.

“Oh! I was just watching.”

“Watching? From all the way over there?” Cub sounded amused, clearly unaware of the great danger here. Grian was laying face down, saying nothing at all.

“Yeah! Moral support and all that.” Scar gave his patented double thumbs up, though it didn’t seem to have any effect on Cub.

“I could do with some actual support. You don’t want to come see?”

“No thanks.”

Grian snorted while Cub scoffed, a sound that pierced the veil of Scar’s bleeding heart. “He doesn’t bite.”

“I do,” Grian lifted his head to say it and Cub pushed it right back down into the pillow.

“He doesn’t. He’s just itchy. You’ll make his day with a little scratching in the right place, he just melts into the floor. Just wait until we get him in the shower with the jets.” Cub tried a smile, but must have realized just how apprehensive Scar was when he didn’t budge, only shifting his weight from his place in the kitchen. The silence lingered long enough that Grian lifted his head, confused, but he let it drop again when Cub continued to work his hands through his feathers. “Let me show you how, at least. It’s cool, I promise.”

The urging, bordering on desperation, was what made Scar finally crumble. Cub wanted this, clearly he wanted this, wanted Scar to be part of it, and Scar would have trouble denying anyone in that aching state. Truly, Scar didn't know why this was so important, but the least he could do for now was to sit on the arm of the couch, cautious to keep some distance, but close enough to watch. Cub’s soft relief, radiant on his face, eased some of Scar’s anxiety.

From his perch Scar watched as Cub brought his fingers back to Grian’s wings, meticulous as he felt around the spiny little feathers. Grian relaxed under his touch, both of them quiet as Cub squeezed the spines, pulling the white bits away and revealing a brand new feather.

“These are pin feathers,” Cub said, like he knew Scar needed the reminder, “They grow in under this keratin bit, and when they’re ready it kinda crumbles off, leaving a new feather. Avians can do most of this by themselves, but molting is a bit more intense of a process when you lose so many of your feathers at once, and the parts where the wing connects with their back is a lot harder to reach. It’s nice to have a friend in all cases.”

Cub continued on, not looking at Scar as he worked. He was so gentle, touches light and calculated, never lingering. Even when he was brushing away the little white shards, he hardly touched the feathers, treating them as if each one might break with too much force. Scar was so enraptured with Cub’s hands, he hardly reacted when the other spoke again, fingers grazing a stubborn looking pin feather.

“This one’s not ready. If the shell doesn’t budge, don’t mess with it. Grian could use the reminder as well. He isn’t very patient, even when it hurts, so that’s just another reason why I’m here instead of him.”

Grian made some sort of grunt in protest, but stopped when Cub began to scratch an area of tightly clumped pin feathers, groaning into his pillow instead. The clear relief of the action pulled on Scar’s heart, Cub’s small smile doing him in completely. A mix of curiosity and longing pulled Scar from the couch, sitting with some apprehension at the tip of Grian’s other wing, though his hesitation melted at a soft, gentle glance from Grian, smile just visible from beneath the pillow.

“Won’t be able to reach me like that, Scar.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Grian snorted, rolling his eyes before turning back to being face down, wing on Scar’s side lifting just slightly before flopping back down.

“Well, if you do eventually feel like helping, you should keep a few things in mind,” Cub hummed, casual, but there was a weight there that caught Scar’s attention. “Avians have backs and shoulders that are a lot more sensitive than ours. Don’t pet. It’s akin to the sensation you might have if I ran my hand right down the middle of your back, but more intense. More.. loaded, I guess. Like if I was running a hand down your thigh, y’know?”

“I- Oh-“

“Save it for the bedroom,” Grian mumbled, continuing on to say something entirely unintelligible before piping up, “or I’ll report you to HR.”

“I’m not going to touch you!” Scar squeaked with a small jump, maybe a little too defensively, because Grian looked up, confusion, or maybe concern etching itself across his features.

“I.. I know. I mean, you can, it’s not.. This isn’t the same thing. It’s like getting poked, or having a bug brushed off your back, or- I don’t know, humans don’t necessarily have an equivalent grooming activity-“

“Brushing hair.” Cub cut in, grabbing Scar’s attention back from sparks of fear, “It’s like brushing hair. Working out the knots, parting it correctly, having it cut or dyed or blow dried or braided. It’s like hair. Like family.” Scar blinked, shoulders slackening before he nodded, tension easing.

“Yes,” Grian sighed, relaxing again, “It’s like hair.” He paused, not taking his eyes off Scar even as Cub continued working on the right wing, which looked almost finished at this point. “Have you ever grown your hair out, Scar?”

“Uh, no. I haven’t,” Scar said, feeling awkward as he ran a hand through his own hair, thin and messy as it had always been, after the accident at least. (Easier to refer to a terrorist attack as an accident, better not to think of it at all.) He never liked his hair very much. Always hard to control, hard to hide. Stressful more than anything. He couldn’t imagine it long. “It’s always been short.”

“Mine too! Honestly, it’s unruly enough as it is, and flying would be a complete nightmare with it long and everywhere.”

“You could just tie it up,” Cub suggested, “Most do, don’t they?”

“Guess so. It’s a lot of hassle though.”

Cub snorted, shaking his head, “Every part of your daily routine is more hassle than I could manage in a lifetime. I can barely find the motivation to brush my teeth most mornings, yet you’re in the bathroom for hours.”

“Cub used to have long hair,” Grian flashed Scar a grin as he changed the subject, snickering when Cub groaned. “It was fantastic. You peaked in college.”

“It was not. I was experiencing free will for the first time away from home, and I made many mistakes.”

“Do you have pictures?” Scar perked up, Grian saying yes at the same time that Cub said no. Grian sat up to grab his phone, wings raising in turn with his excitement and hitting Cub in the face while feathers brushed past Scar’s nose.

“Oops,” Grian pulled his wings back in, though he didn’t sound very sorry at all, “Let’s see here..” he started scrolling, Scar peeking over his shoulder while Cub got to his feet, moving to sit instead by Scar’s side. Cub scowled as Grian let out a squeak of delight, practically shoving a picture of the two of them together in Scar’s face. It struck Scar how young they looked, even though physically Grian didn’t look very different at all- it was a change on another level, experience, new life lived, challenges overcome. Oh! And Cub had long hair!

“Look at you and your little bun! Oh, that’s so cute!”

“It’s not.”

“It’s adorable,” Grian sang, sighing as he flipped through other pictures, “It was hot that day, we were mini golfing in the summer, but I bet I have pictures with it down as well. Went just past his shoulders, it was great. Cub has great hair, it’s thick and it was so soft when he used to take such good care of it.”

“We have different memories.”

“Ah! Look! He let me braid it this one time-“ Grian proudly presented to Scar a picture with Cub in pigtails, looking just as unhappy as the present Cub was now.

“Cute!”

“Delete that.”

“Oh! Here it is long! We were bowling, us and Mumbo- Cub was the only one who could throw the ball straight. I told him Mumbo and I needed the bumpers, but he didn’t believe me. No men have ever done it worse than us, Scar, it was just gutter after gutter. We didn't even have half the points Cub did combined.”

“I don’t think I’ve been bowling,” Scar mused to no one in particular, but shrank in on himself when Grian jumped up.

“Seriously?”

“I- no-“ Scar shrugged to deflect the high energy, a little more uncomfortable when Grian’s demeanor changed from shock to.. Scar wasn’t really sure, though he looked uncertain, glancing away with wings tucked back, “I mean, I don’t think I’ve been mini golfing either, definitely not since- I mean, I guess I probably have a few times before college, but I don’t really count it.”

“You don’t count the first eighteen years of your life?” Grian snorted, failing to notice as Scar faltered and Cub tensed, “Not sure you know what ‘Never Having Done Something Before’ means, bud.”

“I.. Yeah,” Scar mumbled, Grian blinking as he noticed for the first time something was off, “Sorry.. ‘s just different.”

Gears turned in the few seconds of silence, Grian bringing a hand (clawed, sharp) to his mouth when he finally seemed to realize. “No- It’s fine, my bad. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.” The silence was heavy. Then, out of nowhere, Scar felt like he was suffocating, sudden, like a train had crashed off the tracks and barreled into him head on. “I- ‘xcuse me for a minute. Just need some air.”

Scar never felt clumsier as he hurried to the front door, thrusting himself out of it while firmly keeping his eyes on the ground. Stairs had never been so uneven, but he wasn’t sure he could stand to take the elevator, to stay still for even a moment, to face anyone that tried to catch up with him.

Outside air was a blessing, the breeze a gift from the highest heavens, but still, Scar had little oxygen to breathe, little coordination of which to move, but there were no benches, so instead he stumbled his way to the rundown parking lot across the street, sitting on a curb stop at the head of one of the many empty spaces. Why was this happening? Why now? Why did everything have to be so hard so much of the time? Why couldn’t he just be normal?

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the shadow of someone sharp fell across the tar lot, long, imposing, snaking its way forward. Sharp feathers, talons, teeth, words that bit and snared and dark eyes like slits, wholly unpredictable and utterly terrifying on a good day, or maybe this was just a bad day and Scar’s world was too warped to differentiate. Either way, it was awful it was Grian. Where was Cub? Why did anyone need to come down at all, but out of all people, why Grian?

“Hey,” there were no hard edges when Grian spoke, sitting on the curb stop across from him at least eight feet away. If Scar could stand to make himself look up, he might see how Grian’s posture was low, how his wings were tucked tightly at his back.

“Hi,” was all Scar managed. Grian shifted his weight.

“Is something.. not good? Between us?” Grian paused as if expecting an answer, but Scar didn’t know what to give him. “I mean..” Grian continued in the lack of response, “It’s always been rocky. I know that. I know most of that is my fault. And I think- that isn’t to say- we’ve both had our moments, I think. I really- I think it’s safe to say we’ve both been hurt. And I know I’m a lot of the problem a lot of the time. I know it. And I’m sorry for it, I really am, I don’t think you deserved half of the shit I put you through, you really aren’t any of the things I thought of you- well, there’s more, at least. There’s a lot I didn’t know. I assumed poorly of you for a lot of the wrong reasons. I know it, I just..”

Grian paused for a long moment, longer than what was remotely comfortable, but Scar felt a little too numb to care or speak.

“I thought we were doing okay.”

Grian waited. Scar did not answer.

“Are.. are we not? Doing okay? I know I haven’t seen you in a week or so, but at work- HotGuy and CuteGuy I mean. It’s been great. I’ve been having so much fun, and you look like you’re having fun too. Is- is the teasing too much? I can dial it back, I just thought we were getting along, having fun with it. Are you not having fun?” There was a strain there, the kind that hurt a little too deep to ignore. “Scar, I need you to tell me if you’re not having fun. Please.”

“I’m- HotGuy- It’s fun. Work is.. it’s better than it’s been in years. Maybe it’s better than it ever was in the first place. There’s nothing wrong with CuteGuy.”

“But I- I am CuteGuy, Scar. I don’t understand. Is something wrong with me?” Scar did not answer, he didn’t know how, but the sudden intensity of Grian’s distress nearly folded his lungs over, “What’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know,” the words fell from his mouth like a whisper, “I don’t know. I’m scared. I’m just scared.”

“How do I fix it. Please. Tell me how to fix it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I am. I think I lied to you. I think I said all these things about making this work, about making us work, and I want it, I want so badly to make it work, but everything about you is so sharp, and I can’t stop being afraid when you see me. HotGuy doesn’t care. HotGuy isn’t worried about any of it, but maybe that’s because it’s CuteGuy. I can’t stop being- I can’t stop splitting people up. I can’t just be one. I wish I didn’t care. I don’t want to care. I want this to work so badly-“

“Scar-“

“I don’t want to hurt you, Grian. I know I’ve gone and inserted myself and all my dumb problems into your life but I really- I never meant to intrude on you- I never wanted to hurt you! I just can’t stop lying-“

“Scar, you’ve made my life better!” Grian nearly shouted to be heard, to cut Scar off, to make himself be known. Quieter, he continued, “You’ve- you’ve made me better. You’ve challenged me, you’ve forced me to confront all sorts of nasty shit within myself, and you’ve made me better. And I-“ Grian stopped for a second, biting his lip hard as he glanced from his feet to the ground and back again, looking just about as lost and frightened as Scar felt.

“You’ve made me better, and along the way I think you paid the price for it. I think- I was so- I’m not a very good person, Scar, and you saw every nasty, ugly instinct I have in my arsenal, you’ve seen all of me, and you’ve- Micah- hurt me, but even then, you never wanted to. I don’t think you ever wanted to. You might’ve saved my life, then. Micah, you, whoever. Who knows where I would’ve ended up. But everything I’ve done, I only ever wanted to hurt you. Keep you away from me, from Cub. So I.. it’s okay. It’s okay, if you don’t like me. If you don’t want to like me, don’t want to hang out with me or touch my wings or whatever. It’s okay.”

Once again Grian waited for Scar to say something, and once again he couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t even find the words. In his absence, Grian continued.

“I know you know that Cub and I.. You can’t have him without me around. That’s not going to change, and I don’t think you could even dream of trying to change it either, you’re a good guy, I know it, but I.. For what it’s worth, Scar, I can try to stay out of your way. If you’re comfortable with CuteGuy but less so with Grian, then- I can try. It’s the least I can do. I think you’re good. You’re good, you’ve helped me become someone who’s a little more worth something than he was before, and I think in a way, you help Cub too. I bet a lot of people you meet are better because of you. And I- I really respect you.”

The silence was long. Grian might’ve been crying, but Scar couldn’t quite tell, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the cement. His mind felt like a whirlpool, and he was drowning in the middle of it. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want Grian to dip out of his life forever. He just didn’t want to be afraid, but he didn’t know how, but maybe- maybe it was okay. Grian wasn’t angry that Scar had lied, or at least that Scar couldn’t will his body and mind to love him like he so desperately wanted. It was okay. It was okay.

“Grian?”

“Yeah, Scar.”

“Can we still be friends?”

“I’d really like that.”

[ichorai]

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

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

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

words ; 18.0k

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

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, mentions of death, unprotected penetrative sex, a lot of sexual/suicidal jokes and general foul language, tons of business talk, talks of nazis/fascism/conservatism, really morally grey shit, roman’s implied demisexuality, kendall & reader's popsicle war, mencken himself is a warning

series masterlist. main masterlist.

A conservative political fundraiser weekend was the last place on earth you wanted to be, but hell—Logan wanted you there, so who were you to say no to the boss? Besides, hubs like this were always good to sniff out who would be the most dangerous people on the red spectrum.

The hall was decked out in lavish decorations—chandeliers and golden ornaments and marble statues every which way you looked. It was full to the brim with mingling politicians of all kinds: the kinds being old white men, or…

Hm. Seemed like it was practically all old white men other than a handful of women wandering around. White women, of course.

You and Shiv locked eyes for a moment. Though the two of you shared many common political interests, at least much more than the rest of the family, you often found yourself on the opposite ends of agreement. But today, in a sea of men with confederate flags for dicks, the two of you found solace in one another. 

“You can smell the panic,” she told you. “Berlin Bunker vibes.”

“They’re scrambling,” you replied. “Nobody was expecting this. Maybe they should’ve.”

Beside you, Roman cuffed your shoulder. “Ooh—the libtard and the soc-commie. How does it feel to be spelunking in the elephant’s asshole?”

“Calling me a communist isn’t the insult you think it is,” you told Roman, rolling your eyes.

“Mmh. I’m sure they would’ve loved you in the 1930s.”

Shiv crossed her arms. “We’re just corporate observers.”

“The weekend isn’t over yet—we’ll get our white cis-male stank all over you,” Roman commented snidely.

It was then that Greg came up to the group, expression muddled with confusion. “Hey, guys, some guy with an undercut just called me a ‘soy boy’. What, uhm, I don’t really know what that means? What is this, actually? Like what’s everyone here for?”

“It’s just a nice political conference of like-minded donors and intellectuals,” Roman told his cousin.

“I wouldn’t call them intellectuals, exactly,” you said with a frown. You were pretty sure half of these men owned podcasts talking about how toxic masculinity is fake, and the other half were so old they didn’t know how to turn the brightness up on their own phone. 

“We’re picking the next president,” Tom piped up, which made Shiv arch a brow.

“That’s not… that’s not really how it works.”

Roman shrugged. “No, sure, but… it kinda is.”

“Is that—is that constitutional?” Greg queried, looking around worriedly, suddenly wondering if he was participating in yet another illegal activity.

“Welcome to the one percent, Greg,” you told him with a sigh. “Where you don’t have to worry about the constitution anymore.”

Roman pinched your cheek. “Awh, look at you, embracing the right-wing traditions! I love that for you.”

Wrinkling your nose, you swatted his hand away. “Six months till election day and still no candidate. Surprised everyone hasn’t unanimously agreed on putting the vice prez up on a pedestal.”

“Steady old plow horse, huh?” Roman said, directing his gaze to the old vice president, Dave Boyer. “He licks his lips too much. Like a—like a cartoon bear when there’s a picnic hamper nearby.”

You laughed at that, and Roman shot you a grin. 

“I’m going to go take a tour. Check out the fresh meat,” he told you, and you nodded. 

“I’ll be near the entrance if you need me.”

With that, he set off to mingle, hands shoved into his pockets to stop him from his habitual itching and scratching.

“Who are you thinking?” Shiv leaned forward to ask.

“Boyer. Seems the most obvious, easiest choice,” you replied, meeting her scrutinizing stare.

“Are you saying that because he is the easiest choice, or because he’d be the easiest to win against?” she asked with a sharp smile.

There was a momentary pause. “Why, who do you think they should put up?”

“I say we go blue.”

Your mouth fell open as you struggled to find the words to respond with. “Shiv, that just—that’d never work.”

“Why not?”

“You realize ATN is fucking—it’s fueled by everything right-wing! For us to suddenly bat for dems would bring nothing but angry conservatives and we’d lose a fuck-ton of shareholder money.” You shook your head. “Look, Shiv, I don’t like them as much as you do. But forcing your dad to swing blue is just a terrible idea.”

Her features hardened. “The least we could do is try. Right?”

Before you could respond, Roman came hurrying back, phone clutched tightly in his hand. He shoved the screen up against his sister’s face. “Did you know about this, you withholding bitch?”

“Uh, what?” 

“You know Glyn, the, uh, the Brexit pervert?” Roman said, gesturing to the tall British chap with a large nose. “Yeah, he just sent this to me—apparently our mother is marrying Peter Munion.”

Both you and Shiv doubled with surprise. “What?” she asked. “Who’s Peter Onion?”

“I don’t fucking know. I wonder if that first-born fucker knew,” Roman said. 

“I mean, if you guys didn’t know, I’m sure Connor wouldn’t have known, either,” you ventured, glancing over at the eldest sibling chattering to two other politicians about abolishing taxes.

Snorting, Roman replied, “No, the other first-born fucker. Kenny Dick.”

“Ah. Right.”

“Call him.” Shiv nudged her brother.

With a hum, Rome whipped his phone out and called his brother, putting it on speaker phone for the two of you to hear.

“Yeah, what?” Kendall’s voice came through on the second ring.

“Hey. Just wanted you to know that new dad just dropped.”

There was a brief crackle of silence. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Mummy’s getting married, you dingus.”

“Did you know?” Shiv leaned forward to query.

Roman snickered. “Of course he didn’t know, Ken bores the shit out of mom.”

You remembered one Christmas when you were children, the family was exchanging gifts—Kendall had set down a little red box in front of Caroline so she could open it. Something hand-made? You’d always wondered. The wrapping was shoddy. It was forgotten and pushed off to the side in favor of prettier, more expensive-looking presents. You were pretty sure Caroline hadn’t even seen the gift. Or maybe she did. Maybe she just didn’t care to open it. Nonetheless, Kendall, thirteen years of age, didn’t try to give it to her again. That night, when the servants were tossing away all the stray wrappings and ribbons, you caught sight of the crumpled red box chucked into a black garbage bag. You didn’t dwell on it, because Roman had heckled you away soon after to ‘watch’ Shiv play with her new dollhouse.

“What are you even talking about?” Kendall asked. He sounded angry. “You mean, she’s marrying Rory?”

“Uh, no. She took the view ‘Fuck Rory’,” Shiv said, glib.

Sneering, Kendall abruptly changed the subject. “Hey, Shiv, is it true you’re at the hate-fest? Burning books and measuring skulls down in Virginia?” 

“Yeah,” Shiv deadpanned. “What are you doing with your weekend? Planning to send us all to jail? Your favorite past-time?”

Before it could escalate into a full-on argument, Roman pulled the phone close to him and said, “Alright, just wanted to let you know that Mummy still doesn’t love you. Bye, Ken!”

With that, he hung up.

“Do you think your mom is going to invite me to her wedding?” you asked, wrinkling your nose at the prospect of going all the way across the ocean when you had so much work piled up. “And would she be offended if I didn’t come?”

“Oh, she’s definitely inviting you. You know how she is. Needs everyone who knows of her existence to see how rich and pompous she is. She’d have a grudge against you if you didn’t come,” Roman told you.

You frowned, and Roman laughed.

“We can be each other’s date. It’ll be fun. Don’t worry about it.” He rubbed your shoulder, and began leading you off to the bar to get some drinks. 

“Your mother would love that. Us, being each other’s dates? She’d gloat in our faces that she’s known all along,” you mused with a grin, before leaning against the counter and asking the bartender for your preferred drink.

“Or she’d be too self-absorbed to notice. And it’s okay for her to be that way because it’s her own wedding.” Pulling a sour face, Roman shook his head. “Blegh. I can’t believe she’s actually marrying someone named Bunion.”

You laughed softly. “Munion.”

“Whatever.”

Before either of you could say anything else, a figure approached the bar, standing just beside Roman.

“Hey guys,” said Mencken. “What’s up?”

Both you and Roman turned your heads to him. He shot you a glance, noting the unimpressed raised eyebrow.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, it’s the—it’s the ghost pepper. The spicy new flavor, Mencken.” Rome gave the taller man a onceover, drawing a long sip from his glass.

Mencken’s keen eyes darted from Rome to you, and back to Roman, scrutinizing. Burning. You couldn’t quite gauge what he was thinking, but knowing all the hot bullshit he liked to spew on the internet, you were sure it’d be nothing good.

Him as president? That’d be like putting a mask on Hitler and crowning him King of the nation.

“So what’s your deal? Most people here want to fuck me or kill me.” Mencken asked, leaning against the bar. “I’m hoping it’s the former.”

You weren’t quite sure if that was directed to you or Roman, but you were disgusted, either way. 

Roman clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Ooh, wow. I always found it hard to care about politics, so… I trust in Y/N to have enough opinions for the both of us.”

He gave you a fond pat on the shoulder and you spared your friend a stiff smile.

“Right, Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” Mencken said, sticking his hand out. 

Staring down at his extended palm, you took a second to consider flat out ignoring him. But, not wanting to cause a scene, you shook it firmly, nodding curtly. “Likewise,” you lied.

When you pulled away, you made the conscious choice to discreetly wipe your palm onto your pants.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. The both of you, actually.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, straightfaced.

“Tabloids never shut up.”

“They hardly ever do.”

Mencken crossed his arms. “To be honest, I always thought you two were just a PR stunt. You know the vibes… look away from all the sexual harassment, because the prince and princess of Waystar are being all snuggly at a charity event! But now that I’m looking at you in person…”

His words struck a nerve within you. A muscle in your jaw twitched. 

Roman laughed, nervous. “We aren’t—we aren’t, like, a thing. I mean we—we kind of are, but we’re also not really—”

The older man whistled sharply, lifting a hand to stop him, as if he were a dog. “No need to explain to me. I’ve been down that road many, many times.”

“Roman and I are close,” you told him, voice steely. “The details are none of your, or the public’s concern.”

The way Mencken smiled was wolfish. Greedy, almost. 

“Alright, here’s my party trick,” he said to the two of you. “Tell me who your enemy is, and I’ll tell you who you are.”

A part of you wanted to laugh. Where did he get that from, an alpha male, raw meat-eating youtuber’s podcast?

Roman sucked in a breath, amused. “Oh-kay. Let’s put a pin in that one.” He took another sip. “I’ve seen your poll numbers. You’re dark-horsin’ shit. Are people buying your whole… thing?”

Facism. That’s what Roman was alluding to. This man was a fucking fascist. The two of you were entertaining a fascist! You couldn’t believe what you’ve come to. 

Mencken chuckled. “They better buy it. Or I’ll send them to the Gulag.”

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, wrinkling your nose. 

“No, no, no. Not work camps. Just—summer camps. It’ll be like summer camps,” Mencken said. 

“Summer camps but with beatings, right?” Roman asked, unsure if the man beside him was joking or not.

“No, no. Shh—no beatings.”

Mencken winked. He fucking winked! To your surprise, Roman laughed, genuine and chesty. 

“Wow. Tough crowd, huh?” Mencken said, meeting your unamused eyes. “You always struck me as the quiet little country mouse. No wonder you’re sticking to the big-gun citymen.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I don’t find labor camps all that funny,” you remarked, drumming your fingers along the countertop. 

“I’m just kidding. We’re joking around.” He elbowed Roman’s arm. “Is she always this uptight?”

You had to admit that it stung just a bit when Roman tipped his head back and laughed. “It’s what I like most about her. Ain’t that right, schnookums?”

You sniffed in disdain, shrugging off his hand when he placed it on your shoulder. You weren’t a huge fan of how… warm Roman was to him. It felt vile, and it felt wrong. 

Tilting his head, Mencken smacked his lips together and started up, “So, uh… do you guys know yet? Who takes over?”

Roman stopped sipping his drink and set it down. “What’s that?”

“When they send the old battletoad off to the hoosegow.” His eyes glinted. “Your dad, Logan. Admiral Grope Boat.”

“Yeah, no, he’s not… that’s actually not happening,” said Roman. He scratched at the back of his head. 

Mencken cackled at that. “Hah, yeah, that’s right. Stick to the line. That’s good.”

The two of them smiled at each other.

A sudden pit of nausea started curling within your stomach. 

Boyer and Salgado approached the bar, striking up a conversation with Mencken, effectively roping his attention away from the two of you. You downed your drink and leaned against Roman with a mild hum.

“I really thought this event would be more interesting,” you admitted.

Shoulders shaking with his chuckling, Roman asked you, “What, did you think there’d be a gun-slinging showdown? Old western-style?”

“Well, yeah. What else do conservatives do?”

The two of you snickered under your breath. 

It was then that Shiv came to stand by you, ordering a drink for herself. “Hey. What’ve you guys sniffed out?”

You offered her half a shrug, glancing over at Mencken. With a lowered voice, you said, “A lot of rotten apples in the orchard.”

The siblings both hummed at that—Shiv in agreement, Roman in amusement. 

“Look at us, playing nice,” you overheard Salgado tell Mencken. To your credit, they weren’t quite using their inside voices. “People might think we liked each other.”

“Hey, I’m a conservative! I like tradition,” Mencken protested. “I doff my cap to vice president Boyer’s years of loyal service.”

“Thank you. I believe you used to call me Martin Van Boring.”

Mencken grinned. “Hey, come on! No, I still call you that.”

Nodding, Boyer shifted to speak to everyone else gathered around the bar. “Listen, Mencken and I may differ in some areas, but, uh, we both agree that this is the party of the working class now.”

Shiv pulled an incredulous face, scoffing loud. 

“What? You don’t agree, Shiv?” Boyer asked. “All the richest counties in America are blue. The Democrats and tech hold all the wealth.”

“Oh, yes, because everyone here is scrounging through their couches for loose change,” you snidely commented, coolly meeting Boyer’s gaze. 

The old man licked at his lips, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “Come now, I’m talking about the general public. We don’t count.”

Why not?

“I just think some of us get so high off of owning the libs, we forget to talk policy,” said Salgado.

Mencken snorted. “Yeah, Rick loves to talk policy! What he does is he memorizes a National Review issue from 2012 and then recites it back to you. Cool policy, bro.”

This made Salgado frown. “Mmh, Jeryd hates to talk policy because it would mean, you know, having one.”

Roman whistled sarcastically. “Sick burn, brosef!”

“Oh, no, no. We’re kidding. We are!” Mencken insisted. He smiled at you and Roman. “We like each other. I listen to his speeches every night. Yeah. They help me drop off.”

Out of the three politicians, you had to admit that Salgado was the most appealing. Sure, he was a pushover and really only concerned about his public image rather than what he was promoting, but it was better than Mencken the fascist and Boyer the conservative lip-licker. 

“Maybe it’s boring talking about populist solutions for working families,” said Salgado.

“Rick, come on! You jerked off to Reagan’s headshot for thirty years, and now you’re Tom Joad?” Mencken jeered.

Rolling her eyes, Shiv told you, “God, this shit is so fucking boring.”

Overhearing, Mencken gave the woman a onceover. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” Shiv met his gaze. “No, I’ve just—I’ve seen your thing quite a lot.”

Mencken uncrossed his arms and then crossed them again. He was frowning, brows knitting together—evidently he didn’t quite like being tested.

“And what’s that? What’s my thing?”

“Youtube provocateur bullshit,” Shiv told him with a bitter laugh. “Aristo-populism. ‘Rape is natural, it’s all red pill, baby.’ I’m just—I’m just so fucking over it.”

“Have you read Plato?” asked Mencken. 

Oh, God. Was he really pulling the philosophical literature superiority card? Was he being serious?

“Yeah,” Shiv said in a mocking voice. “Remind me, what happens?”

“Oh, read Plato! Read Plato!�� Mencken told her, his manner condescending.

“Don’t want to!” Shiv exclaimed. “I don’t fucking want to!”

Salgado cut in, “See, he doesn’t actually want to have a conversation. He just wants to yell loud enough to get on ATN.”

“Nah! Fuck ATN,” Mencken said. The room fell silent, and all eyes were on him. For a moment, he looked at you and Roman, the two of you watching him with muted interest. You wondered if he was seeking both of your approvals. “No, really, ATN is treated as a bulwark, but it’s dead. It’s basically a pudding cup at 5 PM in the nursing home. It’s status quo bedtime stories to maximize shareholder value.”

Though you didn’t want to agree with any of Mencken’s sentiments, you had to admit that his take on ATN was a valid one. ATN was hardly a reliable source, with its heavy right-wing influences. To you, it was merely a station to feed into the delusions of the older conservative generation. At the thought, you looked over your shoulder to Logan, seated on a table not too far from the bar. You only saw his back, but you wondered if he was listening in.

“Honestly, it doesn’t speak to me,” Mencken continued on. “Doesn’t speak to the people I talk to.”

“And who is it you talk to?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Mencken stared at you for a moment before answering, “People who want to see the truth. See the natural order of things.”

“Natural order. Wow,” you whispered under your breath. With that, you ordered another drink. You couldn’t listen to all this bullshit sober. 

Mencken nodded. “Logan Roy was an icon. But, you know… he’s no longer relevant.”

“Do you recognize this fucker?” Roman asked, shoving the phone in Shiv’s face.

“Nope,” she said.

You peered over his shoulder to see the wedding invitation on his screen, zoomed into his mother’s fiance’s face. 

“Fucking jelly-boned, low-T, pip-pip cheerio fucker,” Roman muttered as he shut the phone off and slid it back into his suit jacket’s pocket.

You pressed the button on the elevator to go up. Logan had called all of you up to the royal suite to discuss options for the next red presidential candidate—something you weren’t at all looking forward to. “He doesn’t look all that bad. Do you think your dad knows?”

The doors slid open and the three of you filed in.

Roman tilted his head. “No. But we have to stop the wedding, right?” 

Both you and Shiv exchanged incredulous looks. 

“Stop obsessing over Mom’s new husband,” Shiv told her brother. “Just get over it. Who cares?”

Narrowing his eyes, Roman asked, “Get over it? It just fucking happened. My mother’s marrying some dickhead, crooked-toothed turnip man.”

“His teeth looked quite nice in the picture, actually—” you began, before falling silent at Roman’s loud groan.

“What’s wrong is how little you care about it, you frozen bitch,” Roman commented off-handedly, making Shiv roll her eyes.

“Oh, poor Rome! His dreams of porking Mom are slipping through his little lubed-up fingers!” she leered, snickering a little.

A frown crossed your features. “It’s okay to care about it, Shiv. I mean… it’s your mom.”

“Something she often forgets,” she murmured, and that marked the end of the conversation.

The elevator rolled to a halt, the doors opening once more to a grand hall. The door to the suite was all the way down, and the three of you made your way there in contemplative silence. Logan was inside to greet you, along with Tom, Hugo, Connor, and Greg (who was awkwardly lingering by the curtained windows). 

“There’s a lot of chat flying around. A lot of flapping,” your godfather said once everyone had settled in. “We need one voice on this, or we could fall apart and hand it to the fuck-fuck donkey gang.”

Donkey gang, obviously meaning the democrats. You spared Shiv a look—she was seated away from her husband, frowning down at her hands.

“So… who do we like?” Logan asked.

Shiv cleared her throat and said, “Shouldn’t we kick it around for a bit? Feels like it’s poised, so if you and Petkus come together, and the other donors follow, it just—”

“Exactly,” Logan deadpanned. “We’re picking. We haven’t got all night.”

Occupying one of the long sofas all on his own, Connor put forth, “I like Connor Roy.”

The room lapsed into silence for a few seconds. Roman smiled, amused.

Calling back to the short conversation you had with Shiv earlier, she said, “Honestly, Dad, I think you go Dems.”

Immediately, the two brothers in the room reacted with incredulity.

“Wow,” Connor scoffed.

“Jesus Christ! What, are we all going to hold hands and sing kumbaya next?” Roman exclaimed. Then, he sat up straighter. “Uhm, I… I kinda like Mencken? But—I know he’s kind of shitty, so if it’s now, I guess I’d say Boyer. But can I also just say that I don’t like Boyer?”

Though you were not at all happy that Roman was leaning for Mencken, you had to agree that Boyer was a safe choice. You crossed your arms. “Hard pass to Mencken. I say we go Boyer. Vice is nice, no?”

Shiv sighed loudly.

“What? What’s with the fucking attitude?” Roman asked.

The redhead held her hands out. “Okay, look, no disrespect, but Boyer was yesterday’s papers. The Dems will run on change and blow him away.”

“Ooh, Mrs. Politics,” crooned Roman. “How many big races did you win as a consultant? Four? Three? Did you win two? One?” He held up his middle finger.

She scowled. “Roman, Boyer is not a winner, and we know that.”

“Okay, then, should we talk to Mencken?” he asked. “See if we can deal?”

Vehement, Shiv said, “Uh, can I just say something? Mmh, no. Mencken is an integralist, nativist fuckhead. He’s toxic! He’s fucking—he’s ‘medicare for all, abortions for none.’ And his idea of diplomacy is shooting roe deer with Viktor Orban and then starting the trade war with China! Look, I know that there’s the carnival bark, and there’s the fucking show, but he’s outside the American political tradition. I think we have a responsibility as Waystar—”

She was cut off when Roman began humming the national anthem.

“Fuck you, Roman!” she spat out.

You put a hand on his arm, and he stopped humming. “I know my opinion here means little to nothing, but… I don’t like Mencken. He’s radical, and he’s dangerous. I’m not saying we swing blue, either. I’m saying we stay safe with Boyer. Our position right now is… precarious. It’s the best option we have.”

Logan studied you, and nodded twice. He was never one for safe options, though. You knew that full and well.

Both Roman and Shiv burst into an argument then, lobbing insults back and forth at each other. Tom stared blankly at the ground, looking even more exhausted than he usually did.

“Stop being a dirty little pixie whispering swastikas into Dad’s ear!” Shiv ground out.

“Boom! There you go again! So fucking route one!” Roman exclaimed. 

The scowl on her face deepened. “I’m not saying it’s going to be the full Third Reich, but I am genuinely concerned that we could slide into a fucking Russian Berlusconied Brazilian fuckpile!”

Raising his brows, Roman shot back, “You have a trophy husband and several fur coats. I think you’re gonna be fine.”

“Tom,” Logan said, seemingly unaffected by the harsh bickering. “Who do you like?”

“Me? I, uh… I think Shiv talks a lot of sense. I also jibe with Salgado.”

Blowing out a breath, Roman said, “You jibe with him? Pretty sure that’s racist, Tom.”

“Salgado is another safe alternative,” you said. “Just not… not Mencken.”

This made Roman nudge his elbow into you. “I thought you were all about giving people chances! Mencken, he’s… you and him have a lot of beliefs in common, actually!”

“Oh? And what’s that?” 

“You’re, uh, both against free-market capitalism! That counts for something, right? Why don’t you just give him a chance?” 

You pinched the space between your brows. “Rome—”

Before you had a chance to finish, Roman was addressing Logan. “Dad, I know you came to the market to get a nice milk cow, but we found ourselves a fucking T-rex, okay? He’s box-office. The guy is fucking diesel. I mean, he’s good on camera. He’s fun! He’ll fight. Viewers will eat out of his hand. No downside.”

“Uh, right, no downside. Let’s just invade Poland, Dad!” Shiv scoffed. “His chief of staff broke a kid’s jaw at a rally!”

“If we don’t come to an accommodation, we get outflanked and we lose the ATN dollar machine when we need cash to fight Tech. Right? Shiv wants her way, I want my way, Connor wants his way, so that’s even.”

Vehemently, Shiv protested, “It’s not fucking even! My opinion counts for more!”

Everyone looked to her, miffed. She sounded more like a child than anything. 

“No, it does! It just fucking does! I know this! People hate Mencken. They fucking hate that guy!” Shiv lowered her voice, as if just realizing that she was yelling a notch too loud. “You have to look at the climate.”

 From the windows, Greg raised a hand. “Do I—do I get a vote?”

“Oh, sure, buddy. You get to vote at the election with all the other folks,” Roman told his cousin, humorously.

“Yeah, well, I just thought I’d get a… bigger vote in here?”

Ignoring him, Hugo said, “Boyer is likely to be flexible over the DOJ.”

“Not if he doesn’t win,” Shiv said. “Which… he won’t.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” you sighed. “You’re blue, Shiv.”

“My personal politics and the company’s values are on opposite ends of the spectrum,” she clarified. “I have to put the company before myself.”

“Okay, we’re hearing rumors that the case is weakening,” Hugo said. “No one big is likely to do jail time. With the notable exception of Tom, of course. Sorry, Tom.”

Visibly, Tom’s shoulders seemed to stiffen, but he nodded nonetheless. “No, please, Hugo… understood.”

Shiv turned to address her father again. “If you don’t go blue, Dad, then at least we have to be backing Salgado.”

This made Connor audibly groan. “Ugh. Señor Dickless. Captain of the Tampa Bay Cuckaneers.”

“Look, I don’t like him. He’s a neocon pretending to be a paleocon, but he at least talks base!” Shiv said. 

Roman clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Wow. I think you’re so brave for picking the brown man. I think that we should get you a medal! A special medal for white women who like brown men.”

“Wow, okay. You’re just being racist! You’re being racist now!” Shiv said, swinging her incredulous gaze from you to her father.

In a mocking tone, Roman said, “Oh, yeah, I’m a good girl! I pretend to care about people because nobody ever cares about me!”

“Hm. Roman, do you have anything you wanna tell Dad? A message from Mom, maybe?”

He recoiled, frowning. “Uh, yeah, wow. Fuck you! Thanks, I do.” Roman looked to his dad, and he could feel the familiar fear creeping up and seizing his ribcage. It helped that you’d shifted your hand to lay over his, but only barely. “Mom’s getting remarried.”

Logan nodded, contemplative. “Hm. To Bertie Woofter?”

“Ooh, no. To Peter. Peter, uh, Peter Munson.”

“Munion,” you whispered.

“Peter Munion,” Roman corrected. 

Anger clouded over Logan’s eyes. “You’re fucking kidding. The seat sniffer? Christ. He’s been hanging around for forty-some years!”

“Yeah, and, well, she’d love it if you came to their big Tuscan wedding.”

“Ooh, La-di-da,” Logan said, sucking in a deep breath. “And they sent you as their messenger boy?”

He laughed and laughed. Roman shrugged.

“Okay,” the old man finally said. “Back to it, then. Who are we picking?”

“I guess there are other names,” Hugo offered. Connor coughed pointedly into his fist, but nobody paid him any mind.

Firm, Logan said, “We have to be united on this. It’s a disaster if we splinter.”

“Salgado has great narrative,” Shiv said.

Scowling, Roman spat out, “Quit butt-huffing Salgado! We all supported your little DC lemonade stand, but this is the real fucking world. This actually matters.”

Lip curled, Shiv replied, voice dripping with venom, “Roman, you just love the boot because you like to be kicked by it.”

Clearly hurt, Roman sucked in a deep breath and picked a piece of lint off his pants.

Connor coughed again, and Logan finally asked him what was on his mind.

“Nothing,” the eldest son said. “No, it’s nothing.”

As if to entertain a ludicrous notion, Logan smiled. “What about Connor?”

“I do believe that idea has good promise,” Connor exclaimed. “I do!”

“I could see it,” Logan said. It was strange seeing him smile in such a way. You couldn’t quite decipher its genuinity. “Kids?”

With a slight snicker, Roman raised his brows. “Uhm… sure, I don’t know.” After a pause, he straightened and asked in a more serious tone, “Wait, but, like—really?”

“It feels very…” You winced, sending Connor an apologetic look. “Very nepo baby? Very rigged.”

Roman shrugged. “They’re all fucking weirdos, anyway. Why not?”

“I mean, he’s a good-looking kid,” Logan said. “He’s smart… in his own way. Fucking Joe Kennedy did it for his boys, no? So let’s get him in there with a smile and a shoeshine and get Ron and everyone behind him.”

No way the matter was settled. Shiv crossed her arms, eyes darting every which way in an incredulous manner. 

“I would fight so fuckin’ hard for this family, Pop,” Connor told his dad, warmth spilling over his features. 

Logan casted his gaze over to his daughter. “Siobhan. As a political consultant… what do you think?”

“Well, no huge name ID, but the family name will be a factor and… uh, he’s got no track record.”

“Nothing to beat me with,” Connor emphasized with a charming grin. “I’m a clean skin!”

They yammered on some more, and Roman rubbed his knuckles along his hairline, seeming stressed. He pulled out his phone and shot out a few texts really quickly, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

Finally, once he put the device away, Roman shook his head. “Okay, but, are we being serious about this? We’re talking about trying to make Connor president?”

All the warmth drained from Connor’s face, replaced by a marring frown. “It’s a big tent, Roman. Why don’t you just come in?”

“Sure. Right. I might just call the guy who waxes my balls, he would be a great president, don’t you think?” Roman retorted.

Shiv interjected once more. “If we’re talking about this seriously, I really think we need to take a look at Salgado. Can I bring him up here without being fucking shot?”

Connor rolled his eyes and Roman groaned.

Finally, Logan’s eyes landed on you.

“You’re for Boyer, Y/N?”

You sat up straighter. “I think he’s safe. Most conservatives like safe. Or, at least, the illusion of safety. Boyer can give them that.”

There was a second of a pause, before Logan nodded. “Hugo. Call Boyer.”

“Well, if Shiv gets to bring up soggy Salgado then I wanna see if we can tame Mencken, okay?” Roman asked just as Hugo handed Logan the phone. In a quieter voice, Roman leaned forward to whisper to just you, “I arranged a meeting with him tonight. Come with?”

You reared back, eyes narrowing. “What? No, Roman.”

“Please? Just… you don’t even have to say anything. Just hear him out. What if he’s not all that bad?”

You blew out a steely breath. Meeting with a fascist was certainly not something you ever thought you’d agree to do. 

Begrudging, you muttered, “Fine. But please, Roman, don’t be serious about him. I’m begging you.”

Roman gave you a half-shrug, which didn’t quell any worries you had one bit. “We’ll just see how the dice rolls.”

When Boyer finally picked up the phone, the two of you lapsed into silence, listening in on the conversation. His voice was groggy, as if he’d just been woken up. He didn’t sound too happy at Logan’s request to come to the room.

“Oh… and my fridge is empty, Dave. I don’t suppose you could bring me a Coke?” Logan said. You raised a brow in surprise whilst Roman smiled down at his lap. It was a power play—a reminder to Boyer that he ate out of Logan’s palms.

“Did you mean to call room service?” the vice’s voice crackled through.

“If you don’t have a Coke, is there something else? Could you, perhaps, fire the deputy attorney general?”

“Fire the deputy attorney general?” Boyer parroted, twinged with disbelief. 

Logan smiled, laughing. “I’m kidding. Come on over. Have a chat. If it’s convenient, of course.”

Five minutes later, Boyer was at the suite’s door. You had no time to listen to his talk with Logan, because Roman was already up and pulling you out the door. He spared no explanation to Shiv, who watched the two of you leave with suspicious eyes. 

You took the elevator a floor down, where Mencken’s room was. 

Roman was the one that knocked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet anxiously. 

“Come in!” you faintly heard Mencken’s voice say. Both you and Roman exchanged looks, yours warning and his pleading, in a sense.

He wanted so badly for your approval.

The two of you stepped in, met with an empty hotel room. It took you another moment to realize that the bathroom door was ajar, Mencken standing in front of the mirror with just a towel hanging over his hips, shaving foam shadowing over his chin and jaw. He was dragging a razor through the white foam, a smile to his lips upon seeing the both of you.

“Hey, guys. Glad to see you again.”

Roman smiled back, leaning against the bathroom’s door frame while you lingered behind him.

“So… I—we just wanted to chit-chat a little bit. That was funny earlier, by the way. You tripping the light fantastic on Grandpappy’s nutsack.”

Mencken hummed. “When I called your dad bullshit? Did that bump?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve never seen that before. That was fucking hardcore,” Roman commented. “Y/N isn’t a fan of ATN either, as it turns out.”

For a moment, you sent Roman a half-hearted glare. He’d said that you wouldn’t have to say anything.

“Ooh. Waystar’s princess, not liking Waystar? How meaty.” Mencken tilted his head back to shave the nooks and crannies that were harder to maneuver around. “Good for you, though. The thing is… this monkey don’t dance.”

Roman laughed, pointing at him. “This monkey right here? The monkey shaving in a hotel bathroom?”

“That’s right.” Finally, Mencken rinsed off the last bits of foam from his face, wiping off the excess dampness with a towel. There wasn’t a single nick on his face—you thought of the many times you’ve watched Roman shaved, when he always somehow managed to garner a dozen or so tiny cuts along his jaw. Mencken turned to face the two of you. 

“Listen, I did want to talk to you about something. Fuck it, I’ll just come right out and say it.” Roman eased into the bathroom, leaning against the wall opposite Mencken, tugging you in as well. It was a strange feeling—you’d never had a meeting in a bathroom before. Wrinkling his nose, Roman said, “Fascists are kind of cool… but not really. So, is that, like, gonna be a problem? Will it be a thing?”

It unnerved you when Mencken sighed, stepping closer to the both of you. So close, in fact, that you could smell the shaving cream he’d used. Your brows furrowed in distaste and fixed your stare on the tile down below your feet.

“Seriously? Me? I just… I don’t have a lot of boundaries.” 

Evidently, you wanted to snap. But you kept quiet.

“St. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Schumacher. I’ll borrow from anyone. To restrict me to that label is just… it’s not right, is it? You know, if Franco or H or Travis Bickle had a good pitch, fuck it!”

This made you tear your gaze away from the ground, meeting Mencken’s stare head-on. He was much closer that you realized, and that made you all the more uncomfortable. 

“H?” you finally croaked. “As in—?”

He spared you a wolfish smile. “I’m a fully-fledged, small-dicked Democrat.”

“I don’t think you are,” you challenged. 

This made him tilt his head and bark out a laugh. “Which one? Small-dicked or a Democrat? Because I can tell you now that neither of those are true, sweetheart.” Your unamused countenance seemed to only fuel him further. “A well-regulated election is a transmission frequency for God’s grace, really.”

“Holy shit,” Roman whistled. “You really are a Christian, aren’t you?”

“Well, no, no, my only thing is like—who’s the stakeholder, right? I’ve been tending my little garden for a hundred years, and then forty new guys show up in the back of a truck, playing their boombox. When it’s put to a vote, they decide to, uh, give my farm to themselves. I mean, it’s ridiculous, right? Maybe we should be putting in before we get to take out.”

There was so much to pick apart with his ideology. So many flaws, so many weak-links. But you didn’t say anything.

Instead, Roman asked, “Okay, well, who gets to join?” 

“People trust people who look like them. That’s just a scientific fact. They will give more tax dollars to help them,” Mencken said. “And I know you look nothing like me, ma’am, so I’ll just say it plain and clear. I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust me. But that’s just part of the thrill, no?”

You recoiled back into Roman. “What the fuck are you talking about? What thrill? Can you just—back up a bit? You’re all up in my fucking personal space.” 

Your scowl loosened just a tad when Mencken raised his hands and took a step back. He snorted. “Sorry. Don’t cancel me. Or do. I don’t think it matters much, right?”

He was right, but you didn’t say it.

“I like this country,” Mencken admitted. “I do. I like the people in it.”

“Not all the people, though, right?” you carefully asked.

“Of course, not. And don’t get all high and mighty on me. You can’t say you like all the people in it, now can you?” You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off. “We aren’t too different, you and I. Roman… I see why he’s taken a liking to you. You have some sense about you.”

You gave Roman a questioning glance, wondering what on earth he’d said to Mencken through text.

You clenched your jaw. “I’m not here for you,” you finally breathed out. “You can’t sway me, Mencken.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.”

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Roman finally intervened before you could get too heated, “In terms of, you know, this thing we have… there’s a thing here, right?” 

“Mhm.”

“I get it. You’re fucking 6G and we’re Betamax, but you need us, I think. Our news, our viewers, those fucking almost-deads. That’s a big slice of pie,” Roman explained. 

“Well, if I’m the nominee… are any of them really going to vote against me?” he asked.

Half a shrug lifting one of his shoulders, Rome said, “No, but… it’s going to be a fucking shitshow going into the convention. I think you could really use our push.”

You weren’t happy about any of this. But Logan had already called Boyer. The deal was done, right? You’d walk back up to the suite, and the next red-wing electee would be picked. This was all… for nothing.

Right?

Mencken nodded. “And I think you could use my push.”

“Maybe,” Roman admitted.

“Where are you in all this?” Mencken asked Roman, curiously. “What’s the little forgotten Prince doing?”

Roman made a nervous, whooshing sound. “I’m, uh, you know. I’m creeping on the come-up.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mencken glanced at you, as if to decipher whether or not he was telling the truth. You betrayed nothing, looking back down at the tiles.

“I’ve got some ideas for ATN. Sluice out the fucking porridge and add some sriracha. Poach some of those TikTok psychos, you know? E-girls with fucking guns and Juul pods. Give me some straight-shot blacks and latinos. That’ll get a few generations turning heads. No more of this fucking… pillows and bedpans. We’re strictly bone broth and dick pills. Deep state conspiracy hour but with, like, a fucking wink, you know? It’ll be funny.” Roman clapped his hands together. “The whole show is kinda set up for the star. President Jeryd Mencken.”

Your face soured.

“I like that,” Mencken said, stroking his freshly-shaved jaw. “I like that a lot.”

“Well, I don’t. Good fucking luck, Roman.” With that, you straightened your shoulders and marched out of the bathroom, needing to get away from the two of them. You needed air. More importantly, you needed to get up to the suite and ask if they’d settled for Boyer.

The two men stood in the bathroom, silent for a few moments.

“I think she likes me.” Mencken smirked.

Roman scratched at the back of his head. He was really hoping you’d see the better side of Mencken, like he did. He just hoped that you weren’t too angry with him. You hardly ever got mad, but when you did, it always felt like the end of the world to him.

“Right… can you, uh… come up and say hello or something to him? My dad?” Roman glanced at the door. “Oh, and bring a can of Coke with you.”

Logan chose Mencken.

That night, you crawled into the cold hotel bed and cried. You felt so… so trapped in a life that you didn’t want to live. You briefly wondered what would happen to you if you quit your job entirely, but you pushed the thought away almost as quickly as it came. It wasn’t something you liked to entertain.

Half an hour later, you could hear your door opening. 

Right. You’d forgotten that Roman had asked for another set of the key card to your room. You quietly wiped your tears away, grateful that it was too dark for him to see.

He slipped in behind you, sliding his arms over your waist and pressing his nose into the back of your neck. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

You chose not to reply, pretending to be asleep.

“It’ll be good,” he said, eventually. “He’ll be good. I promise. His dick is big enough for the both of us.”

You shifted your foot just a bit, but that was enough for Roman to know that you were awake.

“Stop ignoring me.”

“I don’t want you here,” you murmured.

There was a shuffle behind you. Roman cleared his throat. It was so unbearably tense.

“If it’s Mencken you’re worried about—”

“I don’t want you here,” you repeated, a warbling edge to your voice. “I love you, Roman. Please leave.”

He went stiff. One second, then two, then three. 

“I love you, too,” he finally said. It was said with no joking tone, no playful quips, no inappropriate remarks. It wasn’t often that Roman told you that he loved you, at least compared to the number of times you’d say it to him. Maybe it was because he never knew if you meant I love you, or I’m in love with you.

And with that, he slowly slipped his hands off of you, and got back onto his feet. He made a show of leaving the key card on the nightstand, before making his way out of your hotel room.

He shut the door behind him, standing in front for a minute. A part of him wanted you to open up and beg him to come back. An even more delusional part of him expected you to do so.

Instead, Roman could hear your muffled sobs ricochet from behind the door. Something within him seized up. He turned on his heel and left.

Kendall had invited you to his birthday party, to your surprise. After all that transpired between the two of you, you hardly expected to be wanted at his party. Though, from what you heard, it was hardly a personal affair.

It didn’t seem like your kind of event, honestly, and you hardly had a reason to go. You loved Kendall, but you could tell him that any other day of the year, when he wasn’t surrounded by fucking vagina-entrances, childhood treehouse replicas, and miniature Wu-Tang dancers. Though, Kendall told you to keep that last bit on the down low. The dancers were meant to be a surprise.

But you weren’t at all planning on going. 

That was, until Logan decided otherwise for you.

There was a problem with GoJo, and Logan was pissed that Matsson hadn’t shown up. Something about blatant disrespect, he’d said. 

“He’s going to this fucking party, isn’t he?” Logan had barked. “Huh? Where is he? Getting his nails done? Asshole whitened?”

Roman squinted at his dad. “I think we just have to court him a little, is the thing—”

“Bah. No. It’s bad fucking juju to start like this,” Logan snippily said.

You quirked a brow, knowing Logan was never one to be superstitious. 

Shiv and Roman both tried to broach more options, but Logan shut them all down. “The deal makes sense. It’s a great deal. But he won’t make the deal because he’s being an arrogant prick.”

“Fine. Yeah, sure, Matsson’s an asshole. But should we really burn our only parachute because of that?” Shiv stressed.

Logan leaned back in his seat, regarding his daughter. “It’s just smart business, Shiv. I don’t want to pay over the odds. And eventually, the market will make him make the deal.”

You shook your head. “The market has plenty of better hands to deal him.”

“Someone can make a better offer, and we’d be screwed,” Roman agreed. 

“Dad, we have a scale issue. Our streaming platform is for shit, and we have nothing that looks like growth,” Shiv added on. “This gets us consequently into streaming, into sports betting—social media! We have a little window. Miss this, and we end up being pilot fish nibbling leftovers from Bezos’ fucking teeth. Dad, please. If you don’t want to talk to Matsson, fine. But let me.”

“Let us,” Roman interjected. “We can all do it. He’s gonna be at the party, right? We’ll go.”

“You’re going?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow at Shiv.

Her eyes darted from her father to her brother. “Mhm.”

Heaving out a breath, Logan nodded. “Y/N, you go with them. Don’t go in too strong. This is a black box, and I don’t want to overpay.”

You wondered if Logan wanted you there to help broker the deal, or if he wanted you there to make sure Roman and Shiv didn’t start clawing at each other’s throats.

Shiv nodded, muttering something under her breath, and darted out of Logan’s office to make some preparations. That just left you and Roman standing in front of Logan. The air between the two of you was still tense since the whole Mencken debacle.

You were about to step out as well, before Logan said, “Since you two are going, might as well give him this in person.”

He slid over an envelope. The three of you, along with Gerri, had discussed its contents: an offer for Kendall to cash out of the company for good. Roman glanced at you, and you used your head to gesture for him to take it. 

“You think he’ll like it?” Roman asked his dad, who offered him half a smile and a shrug.

When he turned to look at you, the glass door was ajar and the spot where you were standing a moment ago was vacant.

Roman’s palms were sweaty. This was about the fifth time he’d wiped them down the front of his suit’s pants, hoping they’d just air out on their own by the time he got to your door.

They didn’t, but Roman found himself shrugging it off. You’d seen much worse than sweaty palms when it came to him.

It was an hour before the party was supposed to start—more so if he wanted to be fashionably late, didn’t want to seem too desperate—and he rang the bell.

It’d only been a few days since the two of you properly spoke, but Roman missed you. He found his nights staring at your number, thumb hovering over the call button. He’d sent about a dozen texts since then, but none of them were replied to. Sure, the two of you had gotten into fights every now and then but they never lasted long. 

And Roman was determined to get you to stop ignoring him.

When the door swung open, you peeked through, not at all ready yet for the party. Roman snickered upon seeing your eyeshadow only done on one eye, curlers in your hair.

“Looking hot, fuck-face,” he whistled. To his relief, your features softened, and you stepped to the side to let him amble in. Even in your current disheveled state, you knew he was telling the truth.

In truth, you’d missed him more than you could ever admit. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to reply to his strings of texts, especially once you were given time to cool off after what had transpired in the hotel bathroom. He was your Achilles’ heel, in a way.

“What do you want?” you asked, not even bothering to face him as you shut the door and made your way further into your home, standing in front of your mirror vanity to resume doing your makeup. 

Roman watched your reflection in a near somber manner. “Well, I was just thinking, since we’re going to Kendall’s little birthday bash, we could go togeth—”

“No,” you found yourself saying without a second thought. “I can go myself.”

With a sigh, Roman stepped forward, leaning against your vanity so he could look at you instead of your reflection. “I just want to talk. This—whatever’s going on between us—it fucking sucks. I miss you.”

For a second, you let your eyes meet his. You didn’t say anything, simply carrying on with drawing your eyeliner. 

“You’re not gonna say you miss me, too?”

“Of course I missed you, Rome.” There was a sort of bitterness to your words. “That doesn’t make me any less mad at you.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I went down the Mencken road. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. But, cross my heart and hope to die, I genuinely believe he can help us. And, like, what’s the worst he can do? Just because he becomes president doesn’t mean he can do fuck all. I’m just with him because we’d all benefit from him helping out the company.” He scratched the back of his head whilst giving you, as he would so eloquently put it, fucky eyes. 

There was a long stretch of pregnant silence. You’d finally put down the eyeliner, shifting to stand directly in front of him, your chest brushing against his. 

“What can I do?” he whispered. He couldn’t help it—his eyes were fixed on your lips, parted and glossed. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

You smelled so damn good too—Roman felt like he was going delirious. He chalked it up to not being around you for a long while. That was probably why. His hands reached out to rest over your hips. 

“Not much you can do now. What’s done is done. Your dad settled on Mencken—there’s no changing his mind.” You tilted your head, so close now that your nose was brushing against his. He briefly wondered if you could feel the way his heart was slamming imprints against his ribs. 

You were just a hair’s breadth away from kissing him. You were so fucking close—

Until you pulled away with a smug little grin, far enough so that his hands fell away from you, going right back to fixing up your makeup. “I can look past Mencken for now. Mostly because I can’t see someone like him actually winning the election. But I’m absolutely not saying that I’m with you on this. I’m just saying we can put aside our… differences. If he just so happens to win, I’m counting on you to have your hand up his ass, and my hand would be up yours. So we’re good, for now.” 

“You fucking tease,” he grumbled, chuckling slightly. “What was that about your hand up my ass?”

“Awh,” you said in a mocking tone, one of your feet kicking up to knock against his shin. “Did you manage to get a hard on without me even touching you?”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. And no.”

He was lying. He definitely had an erection, and the both of you knew it.

“Did you want me to kiss you?” you asked abruptly, starting to pull out the curlers in your hair.

His mouth went slack. His mind was moving too fast for him to formulate any coherent sentences. Instead, he laughed a bit, before it tapered away awkwardly.

“Yeah?” he finally replied, more of a question than anything.

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m sure,” he haughtily replied.

“Okay,” you said, though you didn’t look convinced. Another roller came out. 

“Don’t believe me?” Roman placed his hands over your hips once more, and yanked you close. “I’ll kiss you right here, right now.”

A brilliant smile danced across your features. “That a promise, Romey?”

With that, Roman leaned forward and slotted his lips over yours. It was tentative and soft and—surprisingly sticky. Your lip gloss, he registered a second later, tasted like strawberries and honey. A content hum slipped from you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back with just as much vigor. Your nose slanted against his, foreheads knocking together. 

You were the one to pull away first, laughing lightly at his hooded eyes and the way he chased after your lips. A second bout of laughter overtook you when you saw the glossy, tinted smudges across his mouth. 

Shoulders still shaking, you pulled out a makeup wipe and handed it over to him, silently gesturing to his lips. 

“The color doesn’t suit you,” you rasped, though you kissed his cheek to leave a faint mark there, as well. “That’s a first for us, you know?”

“What?”

“Kissing.”

Roman looked at you strangely as he wiped away the remnants of your gloss. “We’ve kissed millions of times. Mostly you, because you’re obsessed with me.”

“Yeah, but… not like that. Mouth to mouth. It was always a line I didn’t wanna cross, you know?”

He toyed with a brush laying on your vanity. “Why not?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit more unsure. “You afraid I’m gonna give you cooties?”

“Well, because we’re…” You paused, gesturing between the two of you. “We’re friends. With occasional benefits, I guess. I didn’t know if you were okay with it.”

Lifting a shoulder, Roman offered you a smile. Friends didn’t sit quite right with him. Not anymore, at least. “Well now you know. You can kiss me all you want.”

You huffed in amusement, before pulling out the rest of the rollers in your hair. All you had left to do was put on your outfit, and you were good to go. You wondered if Kendall would be happy seeing his siblings at his party, when you knew for a fact that he hadn’t invited them.

“I’m gonna go change. You want me to help you out with that?” You looked down at his tented pants with a raised brow. “No blow jobs, though. Don’t wanna ruin my makeup.”

This time, Roman was the one that laughed, loud and chesty. He sucked on his teeth, as if debating his options. 

“How much time do we have?” he asked.

You glanced over at a small clock hanging on the opposite side of the room. “We’ve got forty-five minutes, maybe? If we wanna get there before Matsson gets bored and leaves.”

Roman clapped his hands together. “Great! More than enough time.” 

The two of you ended up fooling around for a bit longer than you’d anticipated—he’d humped your ass with you bent over your couch, then finished by jacking off onto your back. You were grateful that you hadn’t yet changed into your outfit for the party, having stayed in a comfortable white shirt that you shucked off and threw into the laundry bin.

To your surprise, he seemed earnest enough to want to try fingering you, and you shyly told him to go for it if he wanted. A permanent flush fixed over your cheeks as you gently guided him to do what felt best. His thumb over your clit, his fingers sheathed deep in your cunt. He was good at it, mostly because he was clinging onto your every plea like it was gospel. You came with a drawn-out moan and your teeth sinking into his shoulder. 

You managed to squeeze in just one more handjob for him since he somehow got hard again while fingering you, whispering filthy nothings into his ear as he whined, eyes rolled into the back of his head. To your curious delight, you’d found that Roman really liked being called a good boy.

Only after all that did you manage to change into a semi-formal dress, touching up on your makeup since a lot of your lipstick had smudged onto Roman. In turn, Roman headed to the bathroom to wash up a bit, comb back his hair, some strands had come loose during your little excursions, and straightened out his suit.

“You ready?” you asked, peeking into the bathroom. The two of you were a bit later than you would’ve liked. “I want to make a stop at the corner store before the party.”

“What for?” he asked, curious.

“Last minute birthday gift,” you replied, hopping slightly as you strapped on your shoes. “Let’s go, Rome. You look hot, I promise.”

He smiled at your reflection, and took your outstretched hand. 

Upon arriving at the large venue, the woman in front asked to take everybody’s coats and phones. To which, Roman told her, “Yeah, fuck off, I’m not doing that,” and walked right past her. 

You gave her an apologetic smile, shedding your coat and handed it to her. “Sorry, I can’t hand you my phone. Company policy.”

With that, you jogged to catch up to Roman, chatting with Connor, who had also chosen to cling on tightly to his coat. Beneath it, you saw that one of his arms was in a sling.

“Oh, Con, what happened?” you asked, waving hello to Willa.

“Nothing, nothing. Just ranch stuff,” the older man replied, nonchalant.

Roman snorted. “What, a horse didn’t want you to fuck it?”

“He had a fall,” Willa said, and Connor immediately protested.

“You make it sound like I’m ninety years old. No, Maxim and I just got some polling results. We shared a Cognac, and then I slipped doing a little Irish jig.”

“Oh, okay. Ranch stuff. Got it,” quipped Roman. 

You stopped in front of a tunnel-like entrance, the walls lined with soft pink. 

 “This feels disgustingly Kendall,” Shiv said, and the two of you laughed as you strolled in. “So… where’s Tabs, Rome? She busy?”

Arching a brow, you looked to Roman. You knew that his relationship with her had fizzled out, especially after the… corpse sex debacle.

“Yup,” Roman said, clearly not comfortable discussing it with her.

She grinned, snickering. “Again? Did you kill her?”

“We’re actually—we’re not really seeing each other anymore. She was just a bit boring. That’s all I’m saying,” Roman said. His eyes darted to you, and you offered him half a smile.

“Mmh, yeah. Because you find sexual intimacy boring, don’t you?” Shiv pressed, which made both you and Roman frown.

“As if you’re the catch,” Roman snapped back. “You’re more fucked up than me, you know! Seems like Y/N and I are nicer to each other than you are to your own husband.”

Shiv looked between the two of you, expression immediately souring. “You’re so fucking annoying,” she muttered, before turning to mutter something to Tom.

By the end of the pink tunnel, a woman dressed in a cartoonish nurse uniform greeted the group. “You’ve just been born into the world of Kendall Roy!” she announced.

“Oh, Jesus,” Shiv huffed.

Roman turned back to look at the pink tunnel. “Oh. So if we’ve just been born, then that must be mom’s…?” He shifted his weight back and forth by the exit. “You’re telling me I’m repeatedly entering my mom’s vagina right now?”

You snorted in amusement, nudging Shiv. “These your mom jokes just keep getting better.”

She hummed. “Cold and inhospitable. It seems to check out.”

“This is my mom’s cooch, just so you know,” Roman told the nurse. “And you’re implying that it’s massive, so, uh, might wanna get Kendall to see if you can tighten my mother’s vagina.”

The group shuffled off, leaving the poor nurse to gather her wits and greet the next few guests approaching. 

“Where’s Matsson, you think?” Shiv asked.

“Probably standing in a corner somewhere, monitoring his biometrics from his watch,” Roman scoffed. 

“Don’t you think we should find Kendall before trying to find Matsson?” you queried, looking around the crowded room in hopes of finding Kendall somewhere amidst the dancing throng. “I mean… it is his birthday party, after all.”

Nodding, Roman said, “Yeah, good thinking. Let’s just get it out of the way.”

Shiv managed to track down one of Kendall’s assistants, asking her where he’d be. She pointed up the stairs, where the VIP section was. Thanking her, the three of you made your way up the stairs whilst the rest of the group stayed down to mingle. 

The second floor was a bit less packed, but there were still dozens upon dozens of famous figures mingling about. It wasn’t hard to find Kendall amongst them, sticking out like a sore thumb with a birthday crown perched on his head, laughing with his girlfriend, Naomi Pierce, by his side. 

His eyes met his siblings’, and he scrambled to take the crown off, dropping it onto the nearest waiter’s tray. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Wait a second. Who let you guys in? This is friends only!” he exclaimed. 

Shiv made a pitying noise. “Awh. Shouldn’t it be empty, then?”

Roman cackled. “She beat me by one second.”

“Happy birthday, old man,” Shiv said, giving her older brother a sharp smile.

“Just to say, I’m only here because I heard there was going to be a five-dimensional catastrophe, and I want to watch you crash and burn,” Roman told him.

Features mellowing, Kendall stepped forward and spread his arms out wide to give Roman a hug, which he reciprocated with no complaint.

 However, he did have to squeeze in, “Man, it even feels like you’re old. You sure you’re only forty? You look like shit.”

Despite his harsh words, Kendall pulled away with a genuine smile. He was happy that his siblings were here, even if he hadn’t invited them.

He hugged you next, and you reached up to kiss his cheek with a smile. “Hey, Kenny D. Happy birthday—I brought you a little present.” You reached into the cheap plastic bag from the corner store, brandishing a strawberry popsicle, still in its wrapper. “It’s probably a bit melted but if you popped it into the freezer for ten minutes or so, it should be good as new. Sorry it’s not much.”

Kendall’s expression seemed to soften, recalling how the two of you would always argue over the last remaining strawberry popsicle during the summers you were still little children. When you would grab it from the freezer before he could, he’d tug on your pigtails and call you mean as you denied ever taking them, and you’d hide the wrappers in Rome’s room so he’d never know it was you. But he could always tell from the sticky red on the corners of your mouth and your sugar-highs that seemed to last for a little too long. 

“No, this is…” He took the popsicle from you, staring down at the wrapper. “This is perfect. Thank you. I really appreciate it, I do.”

You nodded, pointedly watching as he pocketed the popsicle. “No problem. I promise not to take this one from you.”

Kendall laughed, then looked to his brother and sister. “Really? No card? I’m disappointed.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t find one that said both ‘happy birthday’ and ‘get well soon’,” Shiv crooned. The smile on Kendall’s face faltered.

“Well, I’m glad you guys came. It says a lot,” he finally said.

“It was a ten minute drive,” Shiv deadpanned. 

A part of you wondered why Shiv was being particularly brutal today, especially on Kendall’s birthday. Nonetheless, the two of them awkwardly hugged, Shiv patting her brother’s back a few times.

Connor and Willa ascended the stairs a few seconds later, waving hello. They greeted the birthday boy with hugs, and the smile returned back to Kendall’s face, though it wasn’t quite the same as before.

“So, what do you guys think? Sick party, right?” Kendall asked, arms spread.

Squinting, Roman glanced back downstairs. “It’s cool, but, uh, did you ask for Mummy’s permission to use her, uh… squatch?”

Kendall shook his head a bit, seeming puzzled. “What, from, like, a copyright perspective?”

“Well, it’s just, you know—call me old-fashioned, but I think you should ask before constructing a giant replica of someone’s vagina,” Roman off-handedly said.

“I’d definitely want to be informed before someone decides to make an artistic rendition of my privates,” you chimed in agreement.

“Duly noted,” Roman said in a faux British accent, and the two of you giggled under your breath like schoolgirls.

Kendall, miffed, nodded a few times. “Yeah, okay. Yeah. I can—I can send mom an email. But, relax, will you? Yes, Roman, you can take it home with you.”

Roman pumped a fist into the air at that, and you both burst into another round of giddy laughter.

Rolling her eyes, Shiv said, “Okay, so, tell us. Who else is here?”

Kendall made a show of looking around at the dozens of famous celebrities loitering around the VIP section. “Who isn’t?”

“Your dad,” Roman said.

“Your mom,” Shiv told him.

“Your wife,” Connor added.

“Your kids?” you put forth, more as a question than anything. 

“Any real friends,” Roman chimed again.

With a smile, Shiv said, “I mean, business folks, sure. Stewy? Honestly, we could do with building some bridges. So, uh, Lawrence Yee? He here? Lukas Matsson?”

There it was. She name-dropped the golden goose.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re all here, somewhere,” Kendall assured, gesturing around vaguely. “I have something to show you guys, actually. Come on.”

The siblings and you followed him down a winding hallway, which gave way to black-out curtains, and past that, it seemed to be an art gallery of sorts.

“Hey, Dad wanted me to give this to you,” Roman said, handing Kendall the envelope. You eyed it warily, wondering how Kendall would react to the offer.

“What is it?” the older brother queried, shaking it lightly, as if expecting something inside to rattle.

A dismissive sort of smile fell over Roman’s face. “It’s, uh, an iTunes gift card and a couple of your baby teeth. It’s nice. We hope you like it.”

Kendall looked at you, silently asking for confirmation. You nodded, hesitant, but that seemed to satisfy him enough—he pocketed the envelope to open up for later. 

“Okay, guys, let me show you some shit. C’mon.” He beckoned everyone into the art gallery, before spewing into a long tangent about all the people he had to collaborate with in order for things to work out.

Instead of paintings and sculptures, which you’d typically see hung up in galleries, there were newspaper articles and headlines plastered over the walls. 

The Cincinnati Standard: Waystar Chairman, Kendall Roy Elected President of World Federation!

Boston Daily Express: Wife of Tom Wambsgans Arrested In Sweep of City Street-Walkers!

The Correspondent: Connor Roy Elected President [of shitting his bag]!

The NY Globe: Failed Youngest Roy Sibling Dies in Tragic Jerk-Off Accident!

Both you and Roman stopped to stand in front of his article. You shot him an amused glance. “Who were you jerking off to, do you think?”

“Don’t worry, fuck-face, there’s a lot of Roman to go around,” he said, leaning closer to read the smaller text.

Your grin grew wider, gesturing to the paper. “Not for long, according to this.”

“It’s not a bad way to go.” Roman bumped his shoulder into yours. “Yours is going to happen any day now, I can just feel it.” 

Your brows raised, and you turned around, surprised to see your own article plastered large and tall right beside Connor’s.

New York Journalist: Disgraced CEO’s Goddaughter Kicked Out of Company—Adopted Into Communist Parties!

“Wow,” you breathed out. It wasn’t all that bad, really. 

“You like it?” Kendall asked the two of you.

“You’ve got people in here picturing me jerking off, so who’s the real winner?” Roman sneered. 

Shaking your head, you told Kendall, “I can’t even imagine why you’d have an entire room dedicated to this at your birthday party.”

“It’s—it’s unique. An extrapolation into the near future,” he said. “People dig it.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Roman replied, clapping his shoulder, before wandering off to read the other articles.

Connor threw a large fit about his article, unhappy with the way he was being portrayed as an unserious candidate.

“You did actually shit your bag, though,” Roman said. Kendall guffawed and the two brothers began laughing together, at Connor’s expense.

His scowl deepened. “Yeah, you know why? Because I took you two fucking assholes on a camping trip because Dad couldn’t be bothered! That’s why! I ate some bad fucking fish! This is bullshit, Kendall!” He yelled that last sentence, to which Kendall quickly reassured him that he’d have it taken down.

You remembered Roman telling you about the camping trip, the both of you only barely teenagers. It was harder then, being friends with them—boys were particularly mean at that age.

You remembered asking if you could come along. Kendall told you that it was a boys trip. Only boys were allowed, and you most certainly weren’t a boy. 

You remembered Roman asking if you could somehow fit into the cooler so he could sneak you on the trip. Even now, you weren't quite sure if he was just joking or if he was being serious. Nonetheless, you pushed him away and told him to have fun sleeping on rocks and eating stale jerky that tasted like dirt. When you sniffled, Connor put a hand on your shoulder and told you that there’d be many more camping trips in the future. To your knowledge, they never went again. 

“Alright, guys, I gotta circulate. Lots of people to talk to. We can check in later, yeah?” Kendall rubbed his hands together. You briefly realized that this was the first time you’d seen him genuinely happy in a long time.

“Yeah, yeah, you go on ahead,” Shiv said, urging him on.

“It’s a great night. I’m happy you guys are here. Fucking… best birthday ever.”

With that, Kendall hurried off. You and Roman exchanged glances, mirrors of pity and guilt.

Half an hour of asking around later, Shiv managed to snag down Matsson’s location in this never-ending venue of birthday bash.

“Don’t fuck this,” Shiv warned Roman, to which he rolled his eyes and gestured for her to lead the way.

The three of you traversed up a couple more flights of winding staircases, turning left into a massive hall, where a giant replica of a treehouse was erected, leading into what looked like another secret passageway. You narrowed your eyes, seeming to recognize the little carvings on the wood by the base of the tree. Younger Kendall often went into the yard whenever he was angry, whittling away his frustrations onto the bark. You and Roman used to play pretend that they were ancient runes when he wasn’t around to hear you.

“I think a forty year old man who rebuilt his childhood treehouse should immediately go on the sex offender registry,” Roman snidely commented, eyeing the massive structure. 

Two burly guards blocked the entry way.

“We’re with Kendall,” you said as you tried to sidestep them, but one thrust his arm out in front of you.

“Do you have a rainbow band?” he gruffed.

Roman guffawed. “Yes. I’m a walking fucking rainbow band.”

It was then that Kendall’s head emerged from behind the guards, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, guys. You done downstairs?”

“Mhm. These guys aren’t letting us in. Ain’t that crazy?” Roman asked pointedly. “Do you mind if we took a gander around your mental disorder?”

Kendall laughed, though it sounded forced. “Hah. Yeah, good one. That’s funny, Rome.”

“So are you gonna let us in, or what?” Shiv butted in, clearly impatient.

“That’s, uh…” Kendall smiled, almost apologetic, almost triumphant. “That’s not possible.”

You tilted your head, wondering if Kendall somehow found out that the three of you were after Matsson. “Not possible? Why’s that?”

“You hiding something from us in there, Ken?” Roman jeered. “Nude selfies you don’t feel comfortable with showing? The angsty romantic poetry you wrote when you were seventeen?”

A frown flickered across his face. “Well, okay, the thing is—the treehouse is for cool people, and you guys… you guys aren’t cool. Sorry, Y/N. You know, I would’ve given you a band if they weren’t here with you.”

“I’m flattered,” you said in a flat tone.

“Wow. The coolest grown man’s treehouse I’ve seen in quite a while,” Shiv snippily retorted, which made Roman snicker.

Holding his hands out in a placating manner, Kendall told the three of you, “Okay, no, seriously guys. Sorry, but, like… all jokes aside, there’s actually a real issue here, and I need to be discreet, because there’s a lot of celebrities around, and if you guys were in the treehouse, it would be kinda—kinda wouldn’t feel like the treehouse, y’know?”

Shiv scoffed.

“You’re a nazi lover,” Kendall deadpanned, pointing at his sister. He jutted his finger to Roman, then you. “And you’re a nazi lover. And you’re heavily affiliated with them. Me, on the other hand, I’m a defender of liberal democracy.” 

“Lovely. You afraid of getting canceled on Twitter, Kendall?” you asked, crossing your arms. You let the words spew out without really thinking over them. “Or are you scared to show all your ad-sponsored, money-grubbing buddies up there who kicked you to the ground and spat on your corpse? It’s not a good look, is it?”

Appearing crestfallen for a moment, Kendall shook his head. “You’re being—stop. I didn’t expect you to stoop down to their level, Y/N.”

“Jesus, are you going to let us in or not?” Roman huffed.

“What, to see Matsson?” Kendall finally asked.

There it was. He knew.

“That’s why you’re here. You’re trying to push a deal,” he muttered. 

“Who fucking gives a shit?” Roman asked. “What’s the difference to you? I just want to talk to him.”

Shiv nodded. “You know what’ll happen if we do talk to him? Either we strike out with nothing, or we succeed, Waystar benefits, and your net worth goes up by several hundred million dollars.”

“You’re welcome,” retorted Roman.

“Okay, yeah, but I have to weigh that against the consideration that no losers allowed,” Kendall said, shrugging.

“God, you’re such a fucking child.” You rolled your eyes, the two other siblings following suit.

Trying to step up again, Roman said, “I’m going in. This is fucking stupid.”

Kendall grabbed at his brother’s shoulder, pulling him back, and turning him around to face away from the treehouse.

“Oh, my God. Did you see that? I just got moved.” 

Roman tried again, and the two got into a catty, near indiscernible argument. Kendall pushed, and Roman stepped back, before leaning in again. 

“You really gonna get so worked up over a treehouse?” Kendall hissed. “That’s fucking lame, man.” 

Finally, Roman stepped away, his shoulder bumping into yours. “Fuck. Wow.”

“Don’t let these guys in. This is my treehouse, and they shouldn’t be here,” Kendall warned the guards, before slipping between them, making his way back into his treehouse. “Oh, and, thanks for the offer, guys. Great headfuck from Dad. Really fucking cool of you.”

You thought the buyout would be good for him. A naive part of you had even thought that he’d simply accept it with no complaint. Lord knew it was more than enough money to sustain him several lifetimes.

“Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable,” Roman groaned. “Now what?”

Curious, Shiv looked over at the two of you. “What was Ken talking about? What offer?”

You and Roman exchanged looks. “That was nothing,” Roman dismissively replied, shrugging. “It was just a little move to ease him out of the holding company.”

“What? And—you two didn’t think to tell me?” she just about snarled, brows drawing together.

“It’s just an offer, Shiv. You would’ve found out eventually,” you sighed, rubbing the spot between your brows, the beginnings of a headache starting to fight through. 

“Whose name was on the paper?” she asked, head tilted.

“Mine,” Roman sighed. “It’s just a name, though. It’s nothing.”

“Okay, so why wasn’t I the name if it was fucking nothing?” she demanded. “Historically, who owns the fucking company has been of some interest. It’s not nothing.”

Tired of the conversation, Roman told her, “We handled it. You wanna figure out the financing, or something? It’s all there.”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Yeah, that’s fucking great. You guys are so adorable. Fuck you. Fuck this.” 

She stormed off, heels clanging loudly against the staircases’ steps.

A few seconds of silence lapsed by before you reached out to take Roman’s arm. “You ready to go steal some rainbow bands?”

He used his free hand to cup your face and tug you closer, landing a loud, obnoxious kiss onto your cheek. 

“I fucking love us,” he hummed.

The two of you began to walk around, eyeing all the guests who happened to have bracelets on. 

“I do, too, Rome. I do, too.”

Eventually, the two of you managed to snag down a handsy couple who looked much too busy sucking off each others’ faces to care about their stupid rainbow bands. They handed it to you two with no question and you thanked them with a smile whilst Roman snidely told them to use protection. He was one to talk, really.

The guards also gave the two of you a lot of trouble, but after a bit of charm from your end and a bit of light threatening from Roman’s end, the two of you were finally in the damned treehouse.

“I’m scared we’re going to see detailed exhibits of Kendall’s sex life up there,” you uneasily said. 

“Nah, I think I just saw Anne Hathaway passing by. No way Kendall would embarrass himself like that around this crowd,” Roman snorted. After a second, he tacked on, “But I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Almost at once, your eyes landed on Matsson, huddled up in a dingy corner and playing a shoddy tapping game on his phone. He looked next to miserable, utterly bored out of his mind.

“Bingo,” you whispered, nudging Roman with a grin. 

Once the two of you approached him, his eyes didn’t even bother lifting from his screen. But his brows raised in acknowledgement upon hearing Roman’s voice.

“There you are, fucking hiding from us. You little sneak, you. Like a human VPN.” Roman took the seat adjacent to him, and you sat across from the two. “How you doing?”

A disgruntled noise fell from Matsson’s lips. “Eh. I’m alright. I’m just, uh… you know. You fill in the blanks.”

Your lips downturned slightly. You hadn’t spoken to Matsson personally before, but the two of you had gone to the same conferences before in the past—you were never overly fond of his character. Lazy, erratic, a pure dick-jerker. But you knew he was integral to hold up the company, so you swallowed any and all complaints you had about him.

“I hear you. Yeah. Fucking life, right?” Roman drawled in response, attempting and failing to mimic Matsson’s nonchalance.

“I just wanna find a good pussy and get out, you know?” Lukas muttered. For a brief moment, he looked away from his phone, to you. “You down?” he asked.

Rearing back in surprise, you briefly wondered if he was high on something. He probably was.

A nervous laugh slipped out of you, and you gave Roman a wide side-glare. “I’m not here to get laid.”

“Hm. Pity.” There was lust in his gaze, and you felt a wave of nausea roll over you.

To diffuse the tension, Roman quipped in a high voice, “Yeah, well—pussy’s great. Mhm. You see my mom’s at the front, there?”

Matsson snickered lowly. “Yeah. You seen my mom’s? It’s not… it’s not great.”

Roman laughed, and you begrudgingly cracked a smile at that, too.

“Wow. Yeah, sure, I’m not gonna delve too deep into that one.” Roman leaned forward. “Question—my old man got a little bit grumpy this morning, but you weren’t trying to humiliate him, right? I mean, fucking everyone says we’re the last big legacy content library, and you’re the last fucking super app streaming platform. We fit, obviously. Right?”

Finally, Matsson put his phone down to regard the two of you. He pulled a contemplative frown.

“People say we fit, yeah.”

You eyed Matsson warily, partially worried that he’d get bored of the two of you and go back to his phone. “You help prop us up, and we’ll turn GoJo into a gold mine. A tooth for a tooth.”

With guarded interest, Matsson sat up just a bit straighter. Instead of replying to you, he faced Roman and said, “She’s a bit… how do you get anything done with her around?”

An embarrassed, frustrated sort of flush heated your skin. It was beyond demeaning that he spoke to Roman as if you couldn’t hear everything he was saying. Was it because you were a woman? Because Matsson so clearly saw you as a piece of ass and nothing more?

Though Roman sent you an apologetic, slightly confused glance, he said, “Well, I don’t, really. But, uh, what are you thinking?”

Half of a shrug. “I mean, that’s great and everything, but I do have one small concern.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Roman asked.

“When will your father die?”

Roman’s brows flew up in shock. “When will… when will my father die?” he parroted, blinking himself out of his stupor. “Uh…”

The blonde man gestured vaguely towards him. “Like, I don’t wanna be rude, but—what kind of shape is he in? Are we talking less than a year or is it more like five years? ‘Cause if it’s five, that’s… that’s a long time. It would be better sooner, wouldn’t it?”

Roman broke out into a fit of laughter. A nervous habit, you knew.

“No, yeah, I’m laughing here, but, like—that is my dad, so, you know. Go easy there, tiger.”

Though you were well aware that Matsson clearly had a hard time speaking to you without getting a raging boner, you felt it important to voice, “Is Logan’s position on top a problem for you? For this deal?”

The corner of his lips twitched up when he spared you a look. “No, it’s just that I don’t like the idea of a man hanging over me. It’s not my world, media. Not my thing. But Logan’s death, it would… it would clear space.”

Clear space. How airily he threw about the term. A quick peek at Roman told you that he was just as uncomfortable as you were. He scratched the back of his head rather aggressively.

“Uh, I mean, we’re all obviously… hugely looking forward to my father dying,” Roman started, tapering off into a hum of forced laughter. “But, hear me out, there’d be another shape to this. How about you never ever have to speak to him? You could work out of Austin, Geneva, London, Stockholm, wherever. Totally separate corporate identities. And StarGo, we burn, obviously.”

This seemed to please Matsson immensely. It was no secret how shitty Waystar’s streaming platform was.

“Yes, yes. Please. Burn the codes and fucking acid bath those servers.”

Roman cracked a smile. “We can do that. We could do that together. I mean, GoJo, full bore. Our library, our firepower, our relationships for content. And, like, good shit. Not, like, gay moms and wheelchair kids liberal crap. Actual, popular, shit.”

A frown crossed your expression briefly. You never liked it when Roman got political. Nonetheless, you could see now that Lukas was listening intently to what the two of you had to offer. 

“You won’t have to communicate with Logan whatsoever. None of your decisions would be intercepted by him—it’d be filtered through Roman, if need be. And, you know, if it’s beneficial for you, it’d be beneficial for us,” you told him firmly whilst maintaining eye contact. You wanted him to know that you were more than capable of holding your own. 

It didn’t last long, however, because Matsson rolled his head back and blew out a sigh. “I hope you know that StarGo truly is a piece of shit.”

“It’s a huge piece of shit, yeah,” Roman agreed.

“I like to open it just to see how long it takes for the landing page to load,” Lukas said, lazily smiling. A quick glance in your direction, and he slapped at his knees. “Hey, Roman, you wanna go and take a piss on the app?”

A second’s pause. “What, like, literally?”

“Yeah.” Lukas got up to his feet.

Roman hastily stood as well, sending you an apprehensive look. “Yeah, okay, uh—” before he could finish, Matsson was already striding away. 

God. You already couldn’t stand that man.

“Go,” you told Roman. “He thinks I’m distracting. I know. I’ll be around. You just go land a meeting with him, okay? Keep him interested.”

“Okay. Yeah. Are you—? Yeah, okay. You’re great, y’know? So fucking great.” Roman squeezed your shoulder once, before he shoved his hands into his pockets and jogged after Matsson, who was already halfway to the men’s bathroom.

A heavy pit sank to the bottom of your stomach. Everybody was dancing around you, the music pounding so loudly you could feel the base vibrating the ground. There was a distinct sting to the very top of your nose—a telltale sign that you were upset, even though you were doing your very best to push it down. It was times like these you hated being a woman working in an industry made for and surrounded by men.

With pursed lips, you got up to leave the treehouse, feeling incredibly out of place in there.

And so you wove through the crowds, until you saw Kendall walking down a hall with Naomi, his shoulders tensed.

“Hey, Kendall?” you called out, quickening your pace to catch up with him.

“What do you want?” he asked, bitter. “You wanna ask for a condom so you can go fuck Matsson in my treehouse? Sorry, I don’t have one.”

He did—he always kept one in his wallet, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, no, Roman’s doing that already.” You fiddled with your hands and his eyes softened just a tad, drawing his own conclusions that you didn’t care to spell out. “Hey, uh, sorry, this is a really douche-y thing of me to ask, but… could I have the strawberry popsicle back?”

Dumbfounded, Kendall fixed you with an incredulous stare. “What?”

You cleared your throat nervously, feeling your nose begin to sting more. You weren’t quite sure if those were tears pricking your eyes, or if you were just tired. “I’ll get you another one, I promise.” 

The wrapper was still sticking out of his pocket. Melted, you knew for a fact, but you didn’t care. You wanted it, and you wanted it now.

“What? But this—this is my gift. You said you wouldn’t take this one.”

You were being an asshole. You knew it, and he knew it. “Kendall, just—just fucking give it over. It’s a popsicle! I can get you a million others after this.”

Then, you tried to reach for it, but Kendall sidestepped away from you, bumping into Naomi. 

“Yeah, but this one’s mine. You gave it to me. What is with you?” 

Your lip warbled as you inhaled sharply. “Please? I just—I really need it right now.”

There was a momentary pause as Kendall looked down at the wrapper sticking out of his pocket. In all honesty, he’d forgotten it was even there until you brought it up.

“No,” he finally said. “There’s refreshments and desserts all over this fucking place. You don’t need it.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “Fuck you,” you eventually mustered, tears welling up over your waterline.

A large part of Kendall felt guilty, but he consciously took a step back away from you. “I have to go. My kids gave me a present. Rabbit wrapping. I gotta find it.”

“Eat a dick, Kendall.”

With that, he left.

You harshly wiped away any lingering dampness that spilled over your cheeks and hurried away. As you rushed to get to the bar, you caught sight of Shiv wildly dancing in the middle of the crowd, feet bare and hair tousled. 

It wasn’t long before Tom came to join you, seemingly in a glum mood himself. He was saying something about Greg and his new fixation on Kendall’s assistant, but you weren’t quite listening, merely nodding along at regular intervals.

About half an hour later, Roman finally appeared, grinning so wide it was a wonder his face didn’t split in two. By then, Shiv had joined you and Tom by the bar, breathless and cherry-cheeked.

“You okay?” Roman preened. “Onlookers reported you having some sort of breakdown. People were anxious that you might have swallowed your tongue.”

A frown crossed her lips. “I was dancing.”

“Hm. I heard it looked like a cry for help. That right, Y/N?” Roman casted a look in your direction, noting your glum atmosphere. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Before you could reply, Shiv shook her head. “Fuck you. Did you speak to Matsson?”

“I’m trying to console my friend here, Siobhan—”

“Did you speak to him?” she gritted out again, completely disregarding his initial rebuttal. 

Rolling his eyes, Roman leaned against the bar, his arm brushing yours. “Yup. I spoke to him.”

“And?”

“Don’t worry about it, Shivvy. I’ll handle it,” he snidely remarked. His arm pressed firmer up against yours. In a lowered voice, he asked, “You sure you’re good? You look all—mopey dopey over here.”

You didn’t quite know how to explain to him that you and Kendall had gotten into a tiff over a stupid popsicle, and you were sick of being reduced to the pretty woman men couldn’t take seriously. Even if you had vocalized all that, a large part of you doubted that Roman would understand any of it. He’d look at you all guilty and puppy-eyed, one of the few ways he tried to convey sympathy, and you’d kiss his cheek and tell him it was fine. That was usually how things went between the two of you, anyway.

“No, seriously, Roman,” Shiv just about growled. 

“I’m being serious,” he shot back, clearly growing agitated that Shiv just wouldn’t buzz off. And also because you weren’t talking to him, and the two of you knew well how terribly he coped with that. “I’ll talk to Dad and see if he wants to loop you in, okay?”

The aggravation written plainly over her features seemed to deepen. “Just fucking tell me! This is important, and I might need to finesse.”

“Oh, you need to finesse? That’s so kind of you to offer! But, uh, how would you finesse something that’s already done, exactly? By ruining it?” Roman jeered, crossing his arms. “Yeah, y’know what, I handled Matsson. I understand him. I’m not sure you do.”

You simply watched Shiv’s face cave in with unbridled frustration. In a way, you understood exactly how she was feeling. Though, you supposed you were more folded in than she was, given Roman’s trust in you.

“You know what, if you wanna show off to somebody, maybe show off to someone who gives a shit. Look—even Y/N doesn’t wanna hear about it!”

The two siblings looked at you, and you lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“If you landed it, that’s all I care to know,” you gently told Roman.

A nod, and a hum. “It’s all good. Matsson peed on my phone, but we got it. And listen, Shiv, you’re having a very bad day, I know that. What with hearing that you have to continue sharing an apartment with the old meat wardrobe, but, you know—try to keep your wig on.”

There was a certain fire to Shiv’s eyes, darting between the two of you angrily. “I’m the one in a functioning relationship. You guys are fucked up emotionally and using each other as crutches to feel better about yourselves.”

Now that… that struck a nerve. She was right, you knew it, but you never liked facing your and Roman’s codependency head-on. It was an uncomfortable truth that the two of you were quite comfortable not dwelling on.

“Oh, really?” Roman retorted. “I thought you were thinking about all the dick you were gonna ride while he was behind bars? Hm?”

“Oh, my fucking God,” Shiv hissed in incredulous disbelief. “You know what? Nobody likes talking about me fucking guys as much as you do. Why is that? Is that because you’re the COO who can’t fuck?”

This seemed to stun Roman into silence. His eyes flickered over to your silent form, staring down at your half-empty drink. Shiv caught the way he looked over at you, a cruel scoff hitching in her throat.

“Huh. Can’t even get it up for Y/N?”

A deep breath in, and Roman was quick to push the argument back onto Shiv. “Did you think Tom was going to go to jail?”

“No. I’m happy he’s not going.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are! You look really happy. Fucking rainbows and sunshine plastered all over you. Did you think he was, though? Just a smidge? Maybe Dad would go to jail, too? Oh, and maybe I’d go, too! And because Kendall’s all fucked up in the head, you’d… oh, you’d be able to sit on your little throne. It’d be all about you. You thought it was ladies’ night and they were playing your song, but guess what? You were wrong! All the men got together in the man club and we decided, sweetheart, everything’s fine, so just—”

A cord within you snapped.

“Roman,” you sternly barked out. “Shut the fuck up. We get it.”

“Don’t talk for me,” Shiv haughtily told you, before fixing her brother with a fiery glare. “He’s just using you as a messenger boy, but as usual, you’re too fucking dumb to see it.”

“Right. Mhm. It’s difficult for you, I know. It’s hard to have to do the dance for Dad because you just suck at dancing,” Roman sneered. 

“You’re a piece of shit,” said Shiv. 

Clearly on a roll, Roman just kept talking: “It turns out he loves it when I do the Daddy dance, but I guess that’s because he loves me.” He was feeding himself lies. Logan didn’t even have to do it anymore—Roman was desperate enough to believe it. “He loves fucking me, and he just doesn’t want to fuck you anymore.”

“What are you even talking about? You’re so fucking gross!” Shiv just about yelled.

The two fell into more bickering, but it faltered away when Kendall showed up out of nowhere. You glanced at his pocket—the popsicle wrapper was gone.

“Oh, shit. Look who it is! It’s birthday boy!” Roman greeted in a condescending manner. 

Kendall looked upset—far more upset than when you’d confronted him about the popsicle.

“Neither of you should be here,” Kendall gruffly said. “You shouldn’t be at my fucking party.”

“Oh, God, you’re right. Someone call the cops. Intruders have breached the masturbatorium!” Laughing, Roman took your drink and finished what was left of it. You stared down at the empty glass with pursed lips.

Finally, you looked up at Kendall. “You find the rabbit wrapping?” you quietly asked him. 

He didn’t answer your question. Instead, he stared at you for a moment before slowly saying, “I threw away the popsicle. Melted.”

That hurt a lot more than you would admit it did. “Oh,” was all you said.

Roman looked back and forth between the two of you, wondering what on earth he’d missed while he was up watching Matsson piss on his phone.

“You guys are full of shit,” Kendall said. “You came here to fuck me behind my back. You’re ghouls, and you’re disgusting.”

“Sorry. Whoops,” Roman replied, though he didn’t sound sorry at all.

Then, Kendall turned to call a few security guards lining the walls. “Can we get them out?”

“It’s a little late for that, buddy. I already spoke to Matsson. He hates you, by the way—laughs at you constantly,” Roman harshly quipped. 

Shiv shook her head. “Just stop, Roman.”

“What? Go easy on the birthday boy?”

Stone-faced, Kendall stepped closer to his siblings. “Did you come here to see me at all? You didn’t, did you?”

Shiv spared him a sharp, unapologetic smile. “Well, we haven’t been getting along that great recently, so what do you think? You surprised?”

A mutter and a shake of his head. “GoJo was my idea,” Kendall said. “You stole my idea.”

Raising his brows, Roman jeered, “What are you, fucking six? Dude, you lost. No big deal, no need to cry about it.” 

“None of it would matter if you bought out, Kendall,” you said, only barely loud enough for him to hear. “You don’t have to keep biting the hand that’s feeding you. The cage is open.”

A crackling silence. Kendall looked pained, for a second.

“You’re just a stuck-up cunt that can’t bear to see me win,” Roman said, deciding he wanted to have the final blow.

Kendall sized up to him, getting up close to his face. “You’re not a real person,” he said. “You know that? You’re not fucking real.”

Unflinching, Roman stared up at his brother. “Come on. Why don’t you hit me, maybe?”

“Rome—” you began, but he made a protesting noise.

“Come on, shitty Jesus! You know you want to. Just fucking hit me. Do it!”

Kendall watched his brother, eyes empty. Or full of despair. It was the same either way. With that, he stepped away and began to walk off.

“Ugh, look, I’m sorry, okay? Happy birthday—” Roman strode up to him and placed a hand on his back.

Accident or not, Roman pushed, and Kendall fell. He laughed, then apologized, then laughed again. Connor was there, all of a sudden, telling them to lay off each other.

All this time, you hadn’t moved a muscle. Maybe you were still mad about the popsicle. Maybe it was Matsson. Maybe it was the dysfunctional fucking family you were stuck in between.

Kendall forcefully yelled at Connor to take his coat off, and stormed off. Shiv left a few minutes later, mumbling out how much of an asshole they all were. 

“I want to leave, Roman,” you told him, and his giggling subsided, finally.

“Oh, yeah—fuck, yeah. We did what we came here for. Let’s go.”

Down the stairs, out the vagina (or was it in?), and back into the real world. Roman was saying something, but your ears were buzzing with the aftershocks of the loud music.

You hadn’t even registered Roman telling the driver to fuck off, that he wanted to walk you home. Chivalry wasn’t dead, after all. 

Once inside your house, you tugged your shoes off with a sigh and shed your clothes as soon as you stepped into your room. You just wanted to go to sleep.

Roman peeled off his suit jacket, before sitting down at the edge of your bed. “Hey, I have a proposition for you.”

At first, you genuinely believed that whatever he wanted to say was business-related. But upon looking at him, his dilated pupils, his mussed hair, his spread legs—his proposition was very obviously far from professional intent. 

It was a distraction. A good one, one that you were more than willing to take. You clambered onto the bed, straddled his thighs and leaned over him, your nose brushing his.

“Yeah, Romeo?”

“Let’s have sex. Like, actual peen in vageen type of situation.”

You weren’t drunk, but you were tired, and yet you found yourself nodding with hooded eyes. 

“You sure?” you whispered, low and raspy, as if you’d swallowed a handful of gravel. 

High-pitched, he affirmed with, “Uh-huh.”

You brushed your lips over his, only barely there. Roman jerked forward to kiss you properly, but you leaned back. “Say it, Roman.”

He swallowed, throat bobbing. “I’m sure.”

With the green light, the two of you began to peel away the few remaining articles of clothing you had on, your mouths slanted hotly against one another as you ground over his growing erection. It wasn’t exactly a kiss—more like the two of you were just breathing each other in, sighs and pants and whimpers all.

His hands seemed unsure what to do. Clenching at the bedsheets, grazing over your side, groping at your bare breasts, pressed up against him. His mouth fell away from yours with a particularly loud whine, sinking lower to dig his teeth into your shoulder. You smelled like honey, but you didn’t taste like it. Saltier, more human. A breathless curse fell from his lips, muffled into your skin.

“Inside,” he pleaded. “Fuck, I need—please turn around—can I?”

It was hard to think straight when you could feel his dick twitching, the tip continuously brushing against your clit, sending electrifying jolts throughout your whole body. You hummed, rolling your hips over his one last time, before crawling off his lap towards the center of the bed, your back facing him. A part of you wondered if there was a reason why Roman wanted to fuck you in a less intimate position for your first time together. The other, more lust-addled part of you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Roman’s hands slipped over your waist, and he sank his throbbing cock into your slickened cunt with a pitching groan, tapering off into a whine. 

“So fucking good, Rome,” you cried out once he began unevenly thrusting, pawing at your hips as he grew more desperate—close to his release even though he’d barely even begun.

The sex itself was—it was quick, to say the least. It was clumsy, as well—but he managed to reach over and rub tight circles over your clit, which elicited a choked cry from you. At one point, you swore you felt his lips on your back, but you couldn’t be certain.

When he came, fucking spurts of hot spend into you, you shuddered violently as your orgasm crashed not two seconds later, gasping into your sheets. He thrusted into you a few more times—he liked the overstimulation, your rumbling moans, the way his cum began to trickle down your thigh.

And, finally, he eased himself out, wincing as he sank into the spot beside you. 

He panicked, just a little bit, when you pulled yourself away, getting onto your feet. 

Noticing his jerky demeanor, you offered him a soft expression. “Bathroom,” you said as a form of explanation.

That made Roman relax a bit. 

When you returned, you’d pulled on a comfortable white shirt, before slipping beneath the covers. The two of you laid together, staring at the ceiling, staring at each other, staring at your hands—intertwining together on top of the blanket.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, after ages of silence.

Your eyes darted up to meet his, molten brown downcast with shame. 

“For what?”

A click of his tongue, a roll of his eyes. “For—for the shitty fucking sex.”

You barked out a laugh, and Roman appeared mildly offended. 

“It was great, Ro. I actually came, which is more than what I can say for most people I’ve been with. Kudos to you,” you said, grinning cheekily.

“Really? It wasn’t too—was I—?”

“Roman. It was good,” you reassured, shifting closer so that you could press your nose to his cheek. “What do you want me to say? That I saw stars? My throat hurts from how much I screamed your name?”

This seemed to crack Roman’s insecure exterior, and he guffawed lightly. “You bitch. Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.” Another moment of silence. You let go of his hand, watching him carefully. “Roman?”

“Mmh?”

“Did you fuck me to prove a point? Because of what… what Shiv said?”

The air crackled with uncertainty. Roman squinted at nothing in particular. 

Eventually, Roman crooned, “You know I’ve been wanting to stick my dick in you ever since we hit our first fucking round of puberty. You know that, right? That means we were little baby teenagers and I was fucking—fantasizing about dicking you down when I should’ve been doing my homework.” 

It felt like a weight lifted off your chest—a weight you hadn’t even known was there. “Ew, Roman. You’re gross.”

He groaned loudly, dramatically tossing an arm up to cover his eyes. “Don’t say that. I’ll get hard again.”

[brittanymoura]

nervous

azriel x reader

summary: inspired by Nervous (The Ooh Song) by Gavin James & Mark McCabe

word count: 2k

warnings: angst, war

a/n: Part two can be found here: All My Heart (part ii) Enjoy!

————

“Azriel!” You squealed, high-pitched and shrill. A breathy laugh escaped your throat as you hung, bent at the waist, over the Shadowsinger’s left shoulder. Your hands found purchase amongst his lower back as you pushed yourself further upright. “Where are we going?”

He did not deign to respond, breathing out a low chuckle instead. The sound ricocheted down your spine and your skin prickled with anticipation. A swift smack landed on your rear and you let out a small yelp of shock before falling back into another fit of laughter.

Azriel had made a habit of this over the last few months you’d known him. You had met him back in summer, when a few young Windhaven soldiers had come to your neighboring camp. The moment you had met his piercing hazel eyes you knew you were well and truly fucked. In that moment, you swore you would follow him anywhere. It was a thought that frightened you for a brief minute. Then, this gorgeous male opened his mouth and his voice poured out like warm honey, rich and soothing. You found that all semblance of fear had bled away into complete contentment. And he had spent every free moment with you since.

On most days now you could count on him showing up in the evening when the sun began to sink below the horizon, having slipped away after a long day of training. He’d scoop you up and haul you off to some forest picnic or mountainside view where you’d spend the night cuddled against him to escape the harsh winter chill, wings just barely touching, laughing and kissing without a care in the world.

Azriel set you down, feet touching the snow-covered ground, on a cliff side you had come to know well and his shadows dispersed through the tree line, keeping an ever-watchful eye on things. A few logs remained piled up in front of a large fallen tree, the remnants of the last small fire you had made just a few nights ago. A small smile pulled at your lips as you glanced over at him. He sat atop the log, wings held wide open behind him to block the winter wind as he cast an expectant look in your direction, preening as he watched your eyes rake over the massive sprawl of them. Rolling your eyes playfully, you made your way over the the logs, grabbing the matches from his grip as you passed by.

You crouched down before the log pile, casting your wings open as well in an attempt to stop any stray wind blowing in the opposite direction and not allowing yourself to glance up at the male before you. You could feel his lingering gaze on you and were grateful for the distraction that lighting the fire had given you, hoping it would allow for the calming of your racing heart. Despite spending months now in his close company, you never failed to feel nervous around him. Every moment you spent with him had your palms sweating, chest aching and your stomach tied in knots. Even now, you were practically shivering and shaking at the knees.

Finally, the fire began to crackle before you. You took a deep breath, a sorry attempt to slow your heartbeat to a healthy rhythm and looked back up at him. His lingering gaze was as intense as it always was and his mouth was turned upward in small, knowing smirk. That bastard, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Gliding over to him, you placed yourself between his parted knees and his hands came up to grip your hips as he looked up at you. You placed one hand on his shoulder, allowing the other hand to move slowly upward and brush back a loose lock of hair that had hung low over his forehead. His eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch, his fingers flexing at your sides and he leaned forward, placing his chin upon your navel and breathing out a small sigh of contentment. His arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer to him and he buried his face in your stomach. Suddenly you caught a small mumbling sound and you let out a short laugh, “I can’t hear you.”

Azriel pulled back, his head tilting back to look up at you again with bright eyes, “I said, I missed you.” You smiled down at him, a large grin taking over your face, and you cupped both his cheeks between your small hands. You leaned down, pressing a small kiss to his forehead and murmured against his skin, “I missed you too.”

You moved over to sit beside him as the warmth from both the fire and his touch spread through you. Your cheeks were stained a bright red. Though whether it was from the frigid nighttime air or Azriel lavishing you in attention you could not be certain. “How was training today?”

He let out a long sigh, staring into the flames as his brows pinched together. “Training was rough today, more strenuous than usual. There have been whispers of war on the horizon, human rebellions against their slavers.” You felt a shiver travel down your spine, the images of blood and death flashing behind your eyelids as you allowed your head to tilt sideways resting upon his shoulder. Reaching out you grasped his hand in yours, happy that he no longer flinched away from the contact as he once had, and set them on your thigh. He gave your hand a small squeeze.

“Do you think the rumors are true? Do you believe war is coming?” Your voice was small, barely a whisper on the wind. He heard you all the same. He turned his head to face you, and caught your lips in a light kiss.

“Yes,” he replied and gave your hand another squeeze, harder this time. You squeezed back in acknowledgment of what you both knew to be true, but would never speak aloud. Your time together was limited.

————

The alarm sounds rang out across the camp as hundreds of Illyrians emerged from their tents and cabins. Mothers, sisters and wives were frantically searching for their family members, helping to strap leathers and blades to them as quickly as they could. The time for war had come.

Dread pooled low in your stomach as you watched your brother don his fighting leathers. He sheathed a dagger to each thigh and slid his sword into place against his back. He took one last look at you and you gave him a small nod, lips pressed firmly together to keep yourself from begging him to stay. His gaze slid to your mother and he reached out to run the back of his fingers over her cheek. Then, without speaking a word, he turned his back to you and walked away.

You turned to your mother and could see the tears gathering along her lower lashes. But as any good Illyrian wife or mother or sister was meant to do in times of war, she did not allow them to fall. In the blink of an eye, she took a breath, pushed her shoulders back and steeled herself against the onslaught of sadness. A look of understanding passed between you two and she headed back for your home.

You heard a thud behind you and knew who it was before you even turned. You stood frozen, your back to him and your shoulders hunched over. You body was pulled taut. How can I possibly look him in the eye? How can I stand here before him and fight every urge I have telling me to fall to my knees and beg him to stay?

“Y/N. Please look at me.” His voice was a quiet whisper behind you and you felt his hand grip your shoulder, pulling your body around to face him. You only met his sorrowful eyes for a moment, before he was pulling you against his chest tightly. Azriel buried his face in your hair and allowed his eyes to fall shut, breathing in the scent of you.

You stood like this for a few moments, basking in the feeling of safety that being wrapped up in one another provided each of you. Slowly, gently, his hands grabbed onto your upper arms and pulled you back from him. His eyes raked over your face as yours did his. Desperately trying to memorize every detail of the look and feel of each other.

Another loud blaring horn sounded off in the distance. The final call to arms. He looked into your eyes for the last time and opened his mouth to speak. “I lo-”

You quickly brought a hand to his mouth and shook your head, blinking rapidly to hold back your tears. You felt his mouth shut behind your palm and you pulled your hand away. His own came up to tangle in your hair and he pulled you back to him, pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, one that he desperately hoped conveyed all the feelings he no longer had the time to say. You pulled away from him, pressing one more small, soft kiss to his lips and stepped back out of his hold. Your eyes met his again and he knew you understood. Then, without speaking a word, he too turned his back to you and walked away.

————

Years had come and gone. He couldn’t believe it had been that long, that so much time had passed him by. The war was lengthy and many did not make it home. He considered himself amongst the lucky ones to know he and his brothers still drew breath in this world.

He landed roughly in the snow and glanced around the desolate wasteland before him. It was all that remained of your camp. A few families who braved the harshness of the Steppes together but little else was left. He took tentative steps towards your home, praying that your smiling face would greet him as you always had. He wanted to throw you over his shoulder again and fly you off to Velaris, his home now, where he could keep you safe, and finally speak those words he longed to utter all those years ago.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door to the small cabin, but did not hear any noise from within. Raising his hand to the glass window, he attempted to peer inside.

“You won’t find anyone in there,” a voice rang out behind him. He whirled around and his gaze fell upon a young female who was looking at him with distrustful eyes. “You’re looking for Y/N, yes?” He nodded his head in response, shoving his hands into his pockets and tucking his wings in tight.

The female narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion but continued on, “you won’t find her here. Her brother died in the war and her mother shortly after. When things started going south around here, the camp lord made some changes. Since she had no family left here, she was sent somewhere else, married most likely. But I can’t tell you where. None of us who remain here, know.”

Azriel startled at the news, reeling back in horror. Panic began to overwhelm his senses and his shadows gathered around him in a flurry. You could be anywhere in the world, how would he possibly find you now. He felt as though the world was beginning to crash down around him at the thought of you being married off to gods knows who and sent to gods knows where. With no further thought he allowed his shadows to carry him off into the night, sadness overtaking him.

Unknowingly, his shadows had carried him to that little mountain side cliff. The large tree still sat toppled over before a small pit of charred Earth. The air was still around him, the night completely silent, like moment frozen in time.

Azriel sank down onto the log and allowed his head to fall into his hands. He had lost you. The greatest joy in his life, and he had let it slip through his fingers like sand. The winter wind whipped around him and he realized it was infinitely colder on his own.

[ickbite]

WEEPING ANGEL! — Megumi one-shot!

megumi fushiguro x weeping angel!reader

she/her pronouns used, misunderstood reader

Megumi knew he was screwed, his time was coming to an end and he didn’t know what he did to deserve it. His life has only been misfortune after misfortune; his dad was never involved in his life, and then tried to sell him to the Zen’in clan, then he got adopted (which was a plus!), but his adopted dad got sealed despite the fact that he was the strongest.

Even though everything was going fine with Megumi’s life in terms of family and friends (his sister came out of her coma, his dad was freed, his friends force him to play Mario Party every night), by himself was a different story.

He always heard you. You were always there. He never knew what exactly you were, or what exactly you looked like, he just grew aware of the angel statue that he found everywhere he went. You were beautiful; your color was gray, your wings were magnificent, but that’s all you were, a statue… or so he thought.

It started when he was fifteen with the introduction of his friend, Yuji. They were off walking to meet up with the second-years and in the distance Megumi spotted you, a statue whose hands covered her face, with curly hair covering the parts that aren’t visible. After that moment, you followed him everywhere and he was started to grow bothered. You were more than what you led on, he searched the internet for statues like you and they were never found, you’re unique. It grew to a point where he had to ask his Father-Mentor, Gojo.

Gojo sat him down and explained the story of the L/N clan, a family created of statue-like curses, “the L/N clan takes the role of a regular statue, but in actuality, they’re planning something, Megumi.”

“What if it’s just a statue? She’s covering her face every time I see her.”

“The L/N clan, have a powerful asset, they can transport you to a different time, you can be in the 1950s when you were just here two minutes before. As a defense so they can catch their prey off-guard, they turn into stone when they’re looked at, they cover their eyes to avoid looking at each other.”

After that talk, Megumi made sure to stare as long as he could, but you never grew closer until he least expected it. Gojo was just sealed and megumi was alone in Shibuya, trying to figure out how he could possibly unseal him.

“Fushiguro~~~”

His eyes widened as your sweet voice rung in his ears.

“What will you do Fushi?~~~”

He hurriedly turned towards you, you had a big smile on your now stone-face with your eyes closed, hair sprawled around you as you were not face-to-face with Megumi.

“Why now? Out of all days?” He sighed, he raised his hand to your face, cupping it slightly. “You’re cold… what are you exactly?”

After a moment of silence he remembered, turning his back but keeping a distance between them.

“You know what I am, pretty, and I know what you are,” your back touched megumis as you interlocked your hands with his.

He pulled his hands away, “It’s been three years and you still show up, why?”

Your hands found comfort in his hair, “because you’re soooo cute~~~ I couldn’t help myself, I had to follow you,” you pouted.

“Stop putting your hands on me, I don’t know you.”

“But you could! My name is Y/N,” your arms snaked around his neck, rubbing his chest ever so slightly. “You know what I am,” you whispered in his ear, giving it a slight bite.

“You’re in the L/N clan—“

“Puh-lease, we’re angels,” a devilish smirk spread on your face, “my people are sad, we weep and weep, we were excluded from the sorcerer world because of our… unique abilities.”

“You weep? Your people are killers, you send them back in time and feast on their energy.” Megumi’s messy hair fell in front of his eyes.

“We don’t do that to everyone, we do it to enemies who attack us first, the sorcerers hate us because we’re curses, they attack us and kill us. I bet you didn’t see anything about me besides the stone, my eyes are E/C.”

“E/C?” Megumi turned his body to face the girl, her eyes were open and now we really took the chance to look at her, she wasn’t bad looking, beautiful even.

“Megumi! We found a way to free Gojo! C’mon!” Nobara yelled from down the street, “we need you!”

Megumi turned his head towards Nobara to tell her he’s on his way, but when he turned back, you were gone. A sigh escaped him as he started his plan to see you un-stoned.

[zeroseuniverse]

Not A Monster

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Jungkook X Reader Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Segregation (Mutants), Nurse Jungkook X Doctor Reader, Cursing, Injuries.

The most common way people give up their power is by assuming they have none. That is the mindset, the ideals, the lifestyle that is needed to survive this world. The world is encouraging segregation and oppression of those who are different. Nobody knows where exactly the mutant gene came from, but what they did know? It was spreading like wildfire, new inventions coming out to suppress the new abilities presenting themselves left and right.  

“An inhibitor? What type?” she questioned as she moved through the mutant hospital, her feet keeping a fast pace to keep up with Jungkook, the nurse who was leading her to the latest critical case.

“It’s a muzzle of some kind, he was caught hiding in an abandoned warehouse, he’s undocumented, when officers found him, he tried to use what they believe was a supersonic scream to incapacitate them. They were bleeding from the ears,  so I checked with the normies wing, they’re all fine and expected to make a full recovery.” The tattooed man explained lifting his arm to push aside the curtain for the woman, her hands staying nestled in her pockets like they usually were. 

“No offense Jeon, but I don’t give a shit about the officers, they’re not any more important than my patient.” She said plainly, leaving the nurse slightly pouting from the dry response, he wished the doctor would praise his efforts every once in a while. The man huffed before spinning on his heel and heading back to the nurse's station to meet Jimin and Taehyung, the other nurses who seemed to be goofing off rather than working at the moment both men immediately sensed the added presence, the two looked up at the doe-eyed man with teasing grins.

“Did you strike out again, Jeon?” Taehyung teased, promptly throwing his hands up to cover his face as Jungkook threw a pen at him. 

“Watch the face!!!” Jimin yelped, also throwing his hands up to protect Tae, “It’s the only thing he’s got going for him.” 

“Yah!” Taehyung yelled in offense, smacking his hands on both of the giggling offenders.

“Don’t you three have anything better to do than goof around?” Jin wondered as he walked up to the nurse's station, passing a file over to Jimin to put away.

“Yes,” The three let out shamefully, sticking their tongue out at the man's back as soon as he turned around. 

“I saw that!” Y/N called as she strode past the nurses, not even looking up from her case file. Jungkook’s eyes honed onto her gloved hands, pouting when he realized they were still covered, he often wondered if that was the only reason he was so dead set on getting her to warm up to him, he was unbelievably curious about her quirk. 

He saw her lip lift just slightly into a smirk. He had never seen that much emotion on her face in a long time. He excitedly turned to his friends hoping that they both caught the motion too, the two were giggling at his excitement, both shooting him a thumbs up.  His day was made.

—

She wasn’t always that way, she used to be the sweetest person in school, and that’s what drew him in. When she was pulled out of school for a month, he was so worried, until she reappeared a completely different person; However, Jungkook wasn’t going to move on.  If she said jump, he’d ask how high, if she called, he’d come running. Maybe she knew that, maybe she was so aware that he could be the best person to help her in her time of need, maybe he was the only one she felt so strongly about that she stayed as far away as possible to keep him safe. She had watched him from afar for years, having shared so many classes in school, of course, she’d fall for him. The sweet boy who always considers everyone else, a silent protector, that’s what she knew him as. Especially when snacks began to appear in her locker, she caught him in the act a few times, giggling as he struggled with her lock while holding the snacks, his tongue rolling out and resting on his lips as he focused on the task.

Maybe it was these memories that led her to his apartment that night, the faith that he could help her and not repeat a word of it to anyone if she asked. She weakly pounded on the door, suddenly not feeling too confident as she stood vulnerable in front of his door, the creeping feeling of doubt climbed up her being, sending her to spin on her heel the longer she was left to wait. The door swung open, revealing the man pulling a grey shirt down his torso, he looked at her bewildered. He ran his doe eyes down her body, to confirm she was there. “Help,” She muttered in pain.

When his eyes caught on to the wounds and torn clothing that littered her body he gasped, a hand reaching out to pull her into his home, “What happened to you?” He asked, hands and feet immediately moving to grab his first aid kit to help tend to her wounds. 

“Sentinels. The bastards caught me going home from work and scanned me, they started beating me, I had to.” She explained, the last statement coming out so much quieter, almost unsure of it, “I had to.” She repeated, like a mantra hoping that she could begin believing it herself.

“Okay, Okay, you had to do what?” Jungkook questioned again, getting on his knees after sitting her on the couch and beginning to tend to her leg wounds. His hands were moving swiftly but with the gentle touch, you’d see someone use when caring for a porcelain doll.

“I had to, Jeon, I had to, I promise I’m not a monster, I never met to hurt anyone.” She sputtered, her eyes watering, a few tears falling as she began to panic thinking of her actions.

“Hey, I don’t think you’re a monster I could never. But can you give me a rundown? Or do you want to wait until I’m done fixing you up and we get you some food and water.” He offered, coming level with her face, searching her eyes trying to show her that he did in fact care. After she agreed to wait, he continued his work, moving up her body til he tended to the very last wound on her head, he nurtured every wound with the tenderest touch before leveling his eyes with her own once again. 

“You will never be a monster. You’re just trying to survive. We all are, this world isn’t safe for any of us, mutants or humans. Whatever you did, I’m sure you did it to survive.”

“They just kept going, I tried to hold off, but then they brought out the batons and… I was so scared, Jungkook, I thought I was going to die.” She explained, choking some words out here and there as tears once again welled up. “My ability…I’m not proud of it, I hid it as long as I could.”

“You’re undocumented?” Jungkook wondered, his hand moving to cup her cheek, thumb wiping away her tears as they rolled down. She sniffled as she nodded her head almost a small bit. “What’s your….” He trailed awkwardly not knowing if it was an appropriate question, or maybe for better terms a comfortable question.

“I…I absorb energy when I touch people, skin-to-skin contact, it’s why I wear gloves.” She explained, fidgeting slightly with her torn gloves.

“I’ve been touching your skin this whole time…” Jungkook stated, not doubting her but noting that maybe there was something more that she wasn’t seeing. Her brows came together in confusion before drifting her eyes to focus on his hand that was still resting on her cheek, zoning into her senses she did indeed feel energy sinking into her skin but he looked just as healthy, with no sign of discomfort that usually follows skin to skin contact. She was confused.

Jungkook brought his hand down grabbing her hand instead of touching where the exposed skin was, he didn’t feel anything but euphoric by being able to be this close to her, it was odd. 

–

“So you can’t touch anyone at all?” He wondered as he moved around the kitchen to cook up some food, he had been asking questions for about 20 minutes now, and this was about the 3rd time he’d asked this one.

“Well, I don’t know anymore considering you’re still standing.” She answered, “Why are you so focused on this specific question?”

“Because it means a lot of things.” He shrugged, moving the pan off of the burner before turning to face her, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the counter, a position that was all too enticing for her mental state.

“Have you ever held hands with someone? No gloves?” when he saw her shake her head, he maneuvered slightly closer,” Have you ever .... hugged someone?” she shook her head yet again, and he stood to his full height, walking around the counter to stand in front of him. Her heart was beating faster and faster every time he moved closer, his eyes were still locked on her own, never breaking contact. “Have you ever kissed someone.” it wasn’t a question, it was a challenge and as she shook her head, his eyes dropped looking at her lips he leaned in just a little further, his lips nearly brushing her own. “Can I try something?” He wondered, and for the first time in what felt like forever she nodded, and he wasted no time. Both of the two hungry after years of starvation, both feeling overpowered with the energy surging, she was almost high off of the energy he was radiating and he was feeling calm, like he was finally able to relax and rest his demons were at rest, and as her arms looped around his neck, he knew he was home.  For now. 

[scrollonso]

First Kiss (Race 10)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.4k words, slight description of car crash) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {I KEPT ADDING TO THE BIRTHDAY CHAPTER INSTEAD OF WRITING THIS,, SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG}

last part - masterlist - next part

Fernando and Lance made their way onto the paddock together, laughing as they spoke. Their teams having booked the same hotel for the first time all season. Before arriving at the hotel the day prior they hadn't seen eachother since their dinner in Canada two weeks ago, it was nice, Lance knew all the good places (that were both ridiculously expensive and ridiculously beautiful.)

"No, Lancito, I swear, am convinced someone else has a key to my hotel room!"

"Nando, I don't think that's allowed" Lance laughed, Fernando complaining about losing a handfull of his things since arriving

"Exactly! Is not allowed, so how am I losing stuff if no one else is in my room?" He asked, not giving the Canadian time to even process his words and answer "Is not possible! Am being stalked."

"Okay, Nando, Stalked is a little much" Lance rolled his eyes, arm finding its way across the World Champions shoulders

"I think your hotels are bad luck, Lancito, maybe this is why we never have the same one, is cursed!" He spoke enthusiastically, purposefully being more dramatic in an effort to make the boy laugh.

"I'll protect you, Nando," He hummed, patting the Spaniards shoulder "If you win"

"Ay, will be no problem! You know I am good" He winked, watching as Lance rolled his eyes, moving his arm to slightly push the Spaniard away, both exchanging looks that truly should've revealed how they felt right then and there but both drivers were far too oblivious to even consider the reality of how their eyes shined as they stayed so close, practically beaming with joy on the way to their garages.

Quali was over almost as fast as it started, Fernando upset with himself because of a p5 finish, knowing he could do so much better but for some reason hadn't.

"Nando, good job" Lance said from behind him, absentmindedly patting the Spaniards ass

"Ha ha ha" He laughed dryly, shaking his head at the rookies words

"What! You did good, Nando" Lance frowned, not meaning to sound sarcastic

"Thank you, Lancito, am just not happy" Fernando shrugged, aware Lance got 12th but not hesitating to express his disappointment with 5th.

"I know you'll do better tomorrow, you always do" Lance smiled, moving his arm to ruffle the Spaniards freshly cut hair "You look nice, by the way" He added before wandering back to his garage, leaving a very flustered and messy haired Fernando standing alone.

The race finally started, Lance managing to make up two places right away, ending up behind Kimi. The tires were already decently warmed up from the formation lap so all he had to do was pass Kimi and points would be one place closer.

He stayed behind him through turn 1, then turn 2, and turn 3. It was annoying. Kimi was good so it wasn't surprising that it was hard to overtake him.

As they came up to turn 4 Lance saw an opprotunity and took it, Kimi hitting the brakes earlier than Lance had expected and the two collided, Lance completely losing his front wing and helmet being smacked with debris from the underside of the Mercedes.

Kimi's car was practically thrown into the grass, Lance sliding the opposite direction into gravel, head pounding and ears ringing as he quickly exited, the race continuing without them.

"Who crashed?" Fernando asked over the radio, he didn't usually care as long as it wasn't him but this time he was curious.

"That was Räikkönen and Stroll"

"Lance crashed?" Fernando asked, the gap to the car behind wide enough for him to lose focus for a second

"Lance crashed."

"Mierda" The Spaniard muttered, the word barely picking up on the radio as he moved his focus back to the track

Fernando had another disappointing result, managing to make up no places by the end and finishing 5th. It was weird, not going to the cooldown room right after, not looking forward to the podium and seeing Lance's eyes on him.

He debriefed with his team, annoyed at the outcome of the race and acting colder to the Renault engineers than he meant to, he just couldn't help it. It was a very disappointing result.

Lance had been waiting all race to see where Fernando ended up, seeing him finish in 5th was a shock but part of him was excited. He left his garage a few minutes after the race ended and headed to Fernando's, hoping he was done debriefing by now.

As he reached the blue and yellow garage he spotted Fernando right away, his now short hair poking up sporadically.

"Nando" He spoke, smiling as the Spaniard turned his head, face lighting up as he confirmed the voice was Lance's

"Lancito, mi sol" He stood up quickly, rushing over to the boy and grabbing him by his shoulders, turning him in a full circle before placing both hands on his cheeks "Are you hurt? Is everything okay? I haven't rewatched the crash, was it bad?"

Lance smiled softly, leaning into the touch as Fernando asked him questions "I'm fine, Nando. It was my fault, I think Kimi's car is more fucked up than mine anyways."

"The engineers were saying he saw you and moved over on purpose, did your team report him? Are they talking to the FIA about it?"

"I'm not hurt, Nando, the car's fine too, we just needed a new front wing but besides that theres no damage, we don't want to cause unneeded problems"

"Is not fair, should be looked at, you were close to the points, no?" Fernando was more frustrated with the outcome of Lance's race than his own, his team behind him surprised at how adamant he was about Lance saying something because as long as Renault did good Racing Points places didn't matter.

"Shush, let's talk about sonething else, I'm fine, you finished the race, and now you aren't on the podium so let's get something to eat."

"Again?" Fernando asked, not protesting the topic change

"Wow, Nando, do you not want to eat with me?" Lance frowned, pouting slightly at the Spaniard

"Ay, Lancito, I never said that, let me treat you." He smiled, more than happy to return the favour.

The two didn't go far, they just decided on something easy and not insanely priced that they could only have in Texas, Whataburger.

Lance had never had Whataburger before and Fernando was shocked, changing his plans of going to a nice sit down place to just going into the drive-through and eating in the Spaniards car.

"Still cannot believe you have not had Whataburger before, is so good" Fernando gushed as he ate, Lance not being able to help himself as he gazed lovingly at the man

"Well I'm glad I'm losing my Whataburger virginity with you" Lance laughed, not fully thinking about his choice of words

"You are a virgin?" Fernando asked, sounding genuinely shocked

"I'm not talking about sex, Nando" Lance laughed awkwardly, wondering if it was obvious

"You poor boy" Fernando shook his head, hand leaving his food to pat Lance's shoulder "You really should spend less time racing and more time looking for a girlfriend"

"I'll have to pass on that" Lance rolled his eyes, lips slightly curved up as his eyes fell back on Fernando, their eyes locking as the Spaniard moved his arm, his eyes flickering down to the Canadians lips then back to his eyes.

Lance felt his heart skip a beat, licking his lips slightly, wondering if maybe there was sauce on his face, how embarrassing.

As he did so Fernando looked again, his eyes lingering this time, slow to find their way away from the Canadians narrow lips.

"Is good, no?" Fernando spoke, desperately changing the topic to stop his mind from wandering farther, not wanting to have such thoughts about a boy who was as innocent as the one in front of him.

"Si" Lance responded, nodding as he took a bite of his sandwich

"Si?" Fernando smiled, pleased with the random Spanish response from the boy

"It means yes, Fernando" Lance teased, explaining the Spaniards language to him

"Ahhh" Fernando nodded, a smile still on his face as he pretended the boy taught him something.

It was nice, this, whatever this was. Both of them enjoyed it, eating together, speaking together, they hadn't realized just how attached at the hip they'd become since Bahrain but neither man was complaining, they loved eachothers company.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XI

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere

Lucien tried but failed to settle the racing and unsteady beat of his heart. 

Like the quick rhythm of hummingbird wings, Lucien could feel his own pulse fluttering softly in his throat. He was unsure of what to expect, what he might be forced to face once again within the walls of his childhood home. The unknowns created a deep sense of dread in his bones, the weight of his own anxiety unbelievably heavy.

Music could be heard, low and lovely, as Lucien led Elain with unhurried steps towards the looming oak doors just ahead of them. It was near haunting, echoing strangely along the empty stone corridors.

Elain walked close to Lucien’s side, each point of contact with him leaving a searing mark. Her arm was hooked through his, her shoulder pressed against him. 

Lucien glanced at her briefly. He had thought Elain was devastatingly beautiful from the moment he had laid eyes on her, she was even more so in Autumn colours. The emerald fabric of her dress had a stunning effect on her eyes, darkening them by a few shades so that they looked like earth after a storm. He found that there was something regal about the way Elain held herself, that if she set her mind to it she could convince anyone that she had been born to rule. 

Still, Lucien was worried. He did not trust his father, and he trusted his brothers even less. Eris had made it glaringly obvious that Elain’s well-being did not matter, considering he had brought her to Autumn. If anything happened to his mate, Lucien knew he would never be able to forgive himself. 

As though she could sense where his thoughts were going, Elain brought her other hand up. Slowly caressing Lucien’s forearm in a gesture meant to comfort, Elain did not look at him before once again taking hold of her skirts. 

Lucien’s shock was a shooting star, brief and fleeting. He was still finding it hard to believe that it was Elain’s choice to come for him, that she had considered his life worth the risk of her own. 

“Any advice?” Elain’s question was soft as she tilted her head and turned to look up at him. It cut through the music, drawing Lucien’s focus instantly. They had not spoken since the moment they had left their shared suite, Lucien’s hand had been shaking with tiny tremors after having placed the comb in Elain’s hair. 

Still walking, Lucien looked into Elain’s dark eyes, captivated. He had to remind himself that she was almost a stranger to him, and yet he felt as though he had always known her. 

“I have a whole lifetime’s worth,” he offered her a crooked grin, unsure of what exactly he should tell her.

Elain looked up at him through her long lashes. “Seeing as we don’t have all the time in the world,” her lips tugged up in a small, amused smile. “Try and keep it brief.” 

“No matter what anyone in that ballroom says, don’t let it get to you.” His grin faltered at her raised brow, and he wondered how he should phrase his next words so that they made more sense. “They’ll all be testing the waters, seeing if they can get a rise out of you—and me. Don’t let them.”  

“Isn’t Autumn fire?” Elain asked, "I would have thought everyone’s emotions were raging.” She blushed suddenly, her cheeks turning a deep scarlet, and she quickly turned to look straight ahead. 

Lucien continued to look at her, not wanting his gaze to fall anywhere else. “Just the opposite,” he shook his head, tearing his attention away from the pale column of Elain’s neck. “Our emotions, our reactions, even our flames…” Lucien shrugged, “everything must be tamed.” 

Elain hummed in understanding, falling silent as they approached the ballroom.

Lucien glanced at the guards stationed by the entrance, searching their faces, trying to see if he perhaps recognized them. On a phantom wind, the doors swung open, revealing the already filled and busy hall. The music grew louder, the sound of the string instruments full of longing.

Elain pressed closer to Lucien’s side, clutching at his arm tightly. So no one else could hear, Lucien leaned down so that he could whisper. His lips were close to the arch of her ear, not touching her, but he could have sworn that he felt her shiver. 

“Don’t worry, Elain.” He murmured, her heart beating faster. She seemed to have stopped breathing as soon as he finished his sentence. 

Her name.

Lucien still rushed to reassure her, “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He meant the words more than he had meant anything else in his long life. 

Her eyes wide, face tilted like she was his lover, set on placing a kiss on his jaw, Elain nodded. “I know,” she breathed, eyes locked for a moment before they both turned to look ahead. 

Together, arms linked, a united front, they entered the room. Elain nearly stumbled, and Lucien tightened his grip on her arm, pausing. He waited, allowing her the opportunity to carefully take in the scene before them. 

Looking like a forest, nearly a canopy, waves of High Fae dressed in the various colours of falling leaves gracefully walked along the floor of the ballroom. The incessant thrum of mingling, gossiping, rose above the sound of the music as everyone waited for the arrival of the High Lord. 

The sun had fallen, and no light came in from the arched windows that spanned the entire length of the walls. The shimmering chandeliers and the countless fireplaces were lit instead, casting flickering shadows that drew Elain’s attention. Lucien noticed that the musicians had been set up near the table strewn with refreshments and pastries, on the large room’s farthest side.  

No one turned to stare, but Lucien could feel eyes on him and Elain. He must look so different to them, and Lucien was struck with the sudden realisation that every faerie here would know his past, regardless if they personally knew him. 

It was a terrible relief that Elan was unaware of Lucien’s history, he thought, and that as a result, she would have no expectations of him. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Lucien Vanserra,” a female voice spoke from behind him, one that he easily recognized. Fighting the urge to wince, Lucien stiffened as he felt slender fingers trace along his back. He felt as Elain did the same, her spine straightening although she did not turn to see who had approached them. 

Instead, Lucien flashed his practised courtier’s smile. “Lethe,” he said, her name rolled off his tongue sharply, familiar. 

“Lady Lethe,” she corrected, her answering smile was all poison as she stood in front of them. Light brown hair pinned away from her face, falling in a long straight sheet to her waist, Elain’s eyes tracked Lethe’s every move carefully. In a decision that could only be considered a slight, Lethe did not look at Elain, did not acknowledge her presence. “I have lands to my name now.” 

Lucien bowed his head in an apology of sorts. “You have my condolences then, for your husband,” he added. Knowing Lethe, she had probably orchestrated the whole thing, killed the elderly fae she had married and taken everything he had owned after his death. That, at least, Lucien could admire. 

Lethe’s pout was dreadful, hardly sad, Lucien observed. “I’m terribly upset by it,” she gestured to her black skirts, the colour of mourning. Flames flared in her eyes. “May the blessed wind take his scattered ashes to only the loveliest of places.” 

“Despite whatever ordeal you have been through, I’m glad to see you look well.” Lucien maintained his friendliest smile, an ember of truth in his statement. “You look well, lady, untouched by time and lovely as ever.” 

“So kind,” a knowing smile graced Lethe’s sharp features, looking more like she was scowling. “You’ve certainly changed,” her eyes were the colour of dried blood as she took him in, “much more handsome now.” 

Lucien felt jealousy shoot through the bond, a rare possessiveness on Elain’s part as she elegantly cleared her throat. Nose in the air, chin held high, she cast a long look at Lethe, drawing the other female’s attention. 

With a small sniff, Lethe faced Elain fully. Much to his mate’s credit, she did not back away, matching the noble’s attitude. 

Lethe tilted her head, a predator. “Seems like your pretty mate agrees.” 

Without missing a beat, Elain responded, voice measured and unbothered. “My mother always said I would marry for beauty.”

Lucien was glad when someone clapped a heavy hand on his back, knowing exactly who it would be before he saw. When it came to Lethe, Kai was never far. Fixtures of his childhood, the two courtiers were his eldest brother’s closest friends. 

Lucien had not seen either of them since his exile, and had avoided both Lethe and Kai even if he had been in the Autumn Court on behalf of Tamlin. Eris had trusted them both, not only with his own life, but with Lucien’s as well. Lucien wondered if that was still the case, if Eris was capable of maintaining any type of friendship. 

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Kai said, voice loud. “Good to see you, Lucien.” His smile was friendly and sincere, a clever trick to hide how dangerous of a male he truly was. He had always been kind to Lucien, kinder still to Eris, but his reputation in Autumn was one of cruelty. He offered Elain a deep bow, looking up at her with eyes the colour of dead leaves. 

Elain dipped into an elegant curtsy, releasing her hold on Lucien’s arm. “Pleasure to meet you,” she offered, never taking her gaze off him.

“Pleasure’s all mine, lady,” with the full force of Kai’s charming smile on his mate, Lucien had to fight the urge not to snarl. 

Kai was unbelievably lovely. Dark brown hair fell in loose curls to his shoulders, eyes an even darker shade were framed by sharp brows. He was dressed well, simply but no less flattering, his tan skin near glowing with whatever power he had inherited from his Spring Court mother. 

Lucien’s jealousy was ridiculous, considering he had known the male for decades and did not even think Kai was interested in females. Elain pressed closer to Lucien’s side, her hand gently circling his lower back, a lover’s caress. 

Kai tracked Elain’s gesture before he turned his attention back to Lucien. “Have you seen your brothers?” He asked, brow raised, Lethe next to him. 

“Which ones?” Lucien responded, although he was fairly certain Kai was looking for Eris.

Kai shrugged his broad shoulders, a frown tugging his full lips down. “Any of them, I suppose.”

“Eris came before us, the rest I couldn’t say,” Lucien felt Elain’s unease as she stood on the tips of her toes, attempting to look over everyone’s heads. She was probably searching for Cora, Lucien concluded.

“We’ve yet to see him,” Lethe offered, her nose scrunching in distaste.  

Lucien opened his mouth to respond when a sudden hush fell over the large crowd. The musicians came to a natural stop, ending their song beautifully, just as the High Lord and Lady of Autumn gracefully made their way into the room. 

His father was handsome in a jacket the exact shade of fresh blood, striking with the small golden crown on his head. His mother walked at Beron’s side, face serious, as they both paused on the area cleared of furniture and nobles in the middle of the room, the dance floor ready. 

“Tonight,” the High Lord’s voice boomed, “we celebrate the return of my youngest son.” A glass of wine, a red so deep Lucien nearly flinched at the sight, appeared in his father’s hand. Beron’s smile was sharp as glass as he raised his hand in Lucien and Elain’s direction. “And we welcome his lady, Elain Archeron of Night.” His father took a small sip of wine, indicating he was nearly done, his speech rather short so as not to take away from the festivities. “You and your mate have my blessing, Lucien.”

Elain smiled shyly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear that was both endearing and modest. Already she had fallen into her role perfectly, playing the game of courtiers and nobles well. 

The musicians played a cord, settling themselves as they prepared for the first dance of the evening. All eyes were on Lucien and Elain now, waiting, expecting them to take part. 

“Might I have this dance?” Lucien said softly, allowing every ounce of his longing to drip into the question, loud enough for those around them to hear. 

Lucien could imagine the whispers, travelling swift as a wildfire in the ballroom, all the nobles talking behind their hands about him and Elain. 

As Elain’s eyes locked with his, Lucien saw no uncertainty in her gaze. She playfully knocked her shoulder into his, a small laugh escaping her, embracing her role as his betrothed. “Do you even have to ask?” 

Lucien raised his hand, offering it to Elain. Delicately, her fingers traced his palm before she comfortably set her hand in his, a blush staining her cheeks. She smiled timidly up at him, sparks clear as daylight between them. 

As Lucien and Elain walked to the dance floor, Lucien hoped no one could sense their shared unease, hidden behind their false smiles.