#maybe you’re getting better and this is beyond egotistical of me

[certhioidea]

.

[vinvantae]

ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɪɴ

And here it is, the collab with one of my besties @danielfuckingricciardo to celebrate 1k followers

Thank you all so much for support x

The one where Cyril is so fed up of yours and Daniel’s petty feud that he thinks that a pair of flimsy handcuffs will solve everything.

Warnings : smut (gasp! I know! Treasure it, it probably won’t happen again!), light bondage, oral (f receiving), explicit language

**************************************************

When you got the call that Renault wanted to give you a seat, you were beyond ecstatic. You’d been working for years to get into F1 and it was finally a dream come true. Until you met him. Daniel Ricciardo.

You’re not sure which one of you started it, you wanted to believe it was him as that would make hating him all the more satisfying. Every time you saw the trademark grin the world seemed to love so much, it just made you angry. He was fake. You knew what he was really like, an arrogant, egotistical prick who thought he was better than you because you were a female rookie and he was an experienced widely loved driver.

He liked to stir the pot and every time the media asked him about you, there would always be a sly dig thrown in. It was unfair, because any time you attempted to do the same, your media officer swooped in and shut you up. He already had the public under his boot, you were still earning their favour and he knew it.

The race season had barely begun when the two of you crossed the line that made Cyril snap. He practically dragged you both by the ear to his office after the pair of you had a screaming match in the pitlane - Daniel had called you selfish for not holding up the pack during a safety car restart so he could get a good get away, but you were on newer, fresher tires and with the chance of them overtaking you, you ignored team orders and sped passed at the first opportunity, allowing him to lose two places.

“This has to stop. You two don’t have to like each other but you at least need to be fucking civil. Do you understand?”

“But-“

The Frenchman held his hand up at Dan to silence him. “But nothing. We’ve seen how well the content Redbull put out on YouTube does, we saw it with you and Max, and we want to start doing the same with you two.”

You huffed and sunk down in your chair. “Seeing him on the track is more than enough.”

“Enough, y/n. We’ve got to try and at least make the public think you tolerate each other. We’re going to be a top team and I can’t have this negative energy between my own drivers. Now, get out of my sight. I want you ready to be picked up from the hotel at 8am tomorrow.”

“Happy now? Now you’ve got to spend even more time with me.” Dan spat, as the two of you left the room. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, just dipping into your driving room and shutting the door behind you.

It was isolating, not being liked by Daniel, he had the rest of the grid in his pocket so you found yourself spending a lot of time either by yourself or practically tucked under Lewis’ wing, the Brit was more than happy to spend time with you - not taking Daniel’s words at face value and actually getting to know you.

A small part of you hoped that becoming civil with the Australian would maybe show the other drivers you weren’t that bad. That you were funny, witty, kind. Daniel just brought out the worst in you.

You weren’t sure what Cyril had planned for you and your teammate that next day - just that you had a film crew and a first aid team on the minibus with you that next morning. You were squashed between Daniel and Cyril in the front row, the Australian man-spreading and taking over half your seat - uncaring that his warm thighs were against your own. He was looking out the window, tapping his fingers against the open windowsill.

As much as you wanted to wind up the window and crush his thick neck with it, you decided to be on your best behaviour as you were sitting directly next to your boss. You took a deep breath and turned your attention to the man in question.

“Are you going to tell us what the hell we’re doing?” You asked, “Why did we have to drive out to the city for this?”

“Hmm, just some team building activities.” He kept it vague and that only frustrated you more.

Dan cracked a smirk. “You look like a petulant toddler with your arms crossed like that, y/n.”

“Better that than someone’s drunk creepy uncle.” You jabbed back, sitting up straight as the bus pulled outside some random building. “…seriously boss, what the hell is this? Are you gonna just abandon us?”

“Not quite.”

Everyone got out and you stood awkwardly as the camera crew set up all of the equipment, Dan leant down towards you, his voice lowered to a whisper. “Any ideas yet?”

“Not one.” You mumbled, toeing at the floor with the tip of your boot. “Just want this over with.”

“I’m not that bad.” He chuckled.

“Hmm.”

The Australian watched as you stepped away from him - he wasn’t sure what it was about you that frustrated him so much but he got such an evil joy out of making you angry. Perhaps he wouldn’t admit it, but it was the easiest way to get and keep your attention on him. He’d always thought you were attractive but your personality ruined it for him - you were rude, and big-headed. But that didn’t stop him from wanting your focus to be on him, any time there was a chance to have your full attention he would.

He watched as you were handed a comically large envelope by a member of the team and the two of you stood in front of the camera- rehearsed introductions coming out of your mouths before you pulled the card with your ‘task’ out.

“Daniel, y/n. Working together, you will complete a series of tasks throughout the day. If you complete them all, there is a prize in store for you.”

“Is that it?” He chuckled.

“There’s a catch. You will be handcuffed to each other” You grumbled, passing him the note as a member of the team came towards you with a pair of shiny new handcuffs.

“It's a bit flimsier than I’m used to but I’ll make it work.” The Australian smirked, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, a playful lilt in your voice as you tugged at the cuffs now securing your wrists together. “What’s the first task?”

“Buy the ingredients for and then make a sandwich.”

“…you’ve got to be joking.”

“You have half an hour. Starting now.”

Before you could even protest, Dan’s hand wrapped around yours and he began to tug you towards the nearest shop. You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped you as you nearly stumbled over your own feet. “Slow down!”

“We’re being timed!”

You hated that you were already having fun with him, one stupid little game for a YouTube video shouldn’t make you feel so at ease with a man who’s made you so angry for your entire f1 career so far. But as he threw a packet of grated cheese at you with a playful grin, you couldn’t help but realise that this is how everyone else saw him too.

Easily, you managed to put together a sandwich, each using your free hand to put the ingredients together and as the day progressed the tasks got more and more ridiculous - but Dan’s hand stayed tightly wrapped around yours, making the cuff seem almost entirely unnecessary. You finally got a moment away from the cameras to use the restroom, rubbing at your wrist as they removed the cuff.

“Damn, thought I’d get to wa-.”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.” You said, narrowing your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

The insults and petty jabs slowly began to turn into playful jokes and teasing as the weeks went on. The team had you filming videos together every race weekend, and you hated to admit it but you were enjoying it. Not only that, but the rest of the grid seemed to have begun to warm to you, including you in conversations and inside jokes, making an effort to congratulate you when you did well. You wanted to be angry that it was all because of Dan, but the smug smile that was usually on his face when he saw you had started to be replaced with a playful grin instead.

“Okay, so this week is a simple one.” Your PR manager explained, placing two piles of cards in front of you. “Since we’re in Silverstone, Dan, you have to guess what the slang word means.”

“Oh this is a piece of piss, I’ve got this.” Dan grinned, grabbing his pile. “Spent enough time around Brits to know my slang.”

“I bet we’ll catch you out. You’re getting on a bit y’know.” You teased. “Okay… what does plastered mean? Alternatively trollied.”

Dan furrowed his brow at you. “Uhm, what? Can I have it in a sentence?”

“Mate, I got absolutely plastered last night.”

“…uh, purely from context I’m gonna go with… drunk?”

You gave him a slow clap. “Good job old man. That’s one! Okay, what about dodgy?”

“Oh! That's suspicious or a bit off.”

Surprisingly, Dan seemed to know more words than you thought he would, but as you flipped over the last card you burst out laughing. “Seriously guys? You can’t be real.”

“What is it?”

You held up the card and in big bold letters was written the word shag. “Are you seriously gonna post this on the channel?”

“No, but I thought it would make you laugh. Make him guess what it means.” The PR manager laughed, a playful smile on her face.

“Isn’t it just a rug? Like a carpet?”

You groaned. “I’m gonna have to put it in a sentence for him aren't I?”

“Please do, I’m very confused why everyone’s laughing except me.” He chuckled.

A soft hum left your lips as you thought. You decided to test the waters a little, see how far your ‘friendship’ with your colleague had come in the last couple of weeks. You gave a look at your PR manager and she turned off the camera - clearly aware that you didn’t want proof of this ‘joke’ anywhere.

“I know that Dan is my teammate, but I’d shag him…” you smirked, Dan’s eyes widening a little. “Fucking hate that word, it’s so gross sounding.”

“..kill him? I don’t know, honestly.” He laughed, his eyes flickered between you and the PR manager, both of you very clearly holding back laughter. “Well if it’s not that then… oh?”

You giggled and his eyes went wide.

“Oh.” The Australian chuckled softly. “If I knew all it would take to get you to like me was film some videos I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

Your cheeks flushed a little but you composed yourself enough to record the ending to the video without the nerves winning. This was the first time you’d felt those weird bubbles in your tummy around him - usually it was just pure rage but this? This was something.

The PR manager gave you a playful wink before leaving you both alone. This was probably one of the first times you’d been alone with him where you didn’t have the overwhelming urge to throttle him where he stood.

“So… you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Play dumb. It was a joke… right?

His lips curved into a wicked smirk. “You know exactly what, doll.”

Your cheeks flushed dark. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t… I just thought it would be funny. Don’t make it weird, Ricciardo.”

“How am I making it weird?”

When you turned around you practically headbutted his chest. He was so close, but, instead of taking a step back you looked up at him - his honey coloured eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know how.”

“So weird that you’re staying put, huh?” Your breath caught in your throat as his hand briefly ghosted over your waist. He leant in close and lowered his voice to a whisper. “See you later, doll.”

You swallowed heavily as he brushed past you to leave the room, his hand purposefully touching your waist once more. It hurt to admit, but this wasn’t the first time you’d had inappropriate thoughts about your teammate; it was the first time however where you weren’t completely grossed out by yourself.

The idea of his hands on you, suddenly didn’t seem too bad and you’re sure that’s not what Cyril had in mind when you started filming together, but things had definitely got interesting.

*** smut and besties part is below ***

Another race weekend provides a welcome distraction from the feelings stirring deep inside of you. Keeping your head in the game and your eyes on the car in front of you, you manage to take your first podium of the season. Sure, it was only third place, but to you it felt as though you had won the championship.

As you hop out of your car, you immediately begin to celebrate, raising your fist in the air and pumping it to a non-existent rhythm like an overexcited DJ in some shitty club.

You look across to Lewis as he throws himself out of his car, taking another win and another advancing step towards his next championship trophy. He immediately spots you and races toward you, wrapping you in the tightest, bone-crushing hug as he lifts you and spins you around.

“You were amazing out there! Even had me worried for a second.” He chuckles as he gently places you back down on the tarmac, and you can’t help but laugh back in response.

“I think Daniel was more of a threat to you than me, but thank you for stroking my ego.” You respond, playfully slapping his arm with your gloved hand.

Lewis opens his mouth as if to speak but quickly closes it as he makes eye contact with your teammate behind you. They quickly embrace in that weird way guys do, linking hands and offering each other a quick pat on the back before Lewis walks away to grab his water bottle, leaving you and Daniel alone.

“Had me looking in my mirrors there, Doll, some real tense shit I tell ya.” Daniel says, offering you an awkward chuckle and a smile.

“Another lap and I’d have had you for sure. But you smashed it, Ricciardo. Nice one.” You say, giving him a quick wink and holding your hand out for him to shake.

“Oh, so Lewis gets a hug and I get a handshake? I see how it is.” Daniel says, quirking his eyebrow slightly at you.

“Oh, alright then, Ricciardo, desperate much?” You tease, pulling him in for a tight hug, rubbing his back gently with your palm as he returns the gesture.

“I have a present for you later, a surprise, after all the podiums and press and stuff.” He whispers in your ear, and your eyebrows furrow.

“What sort of a surprise?” You respond.

“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?” He says, causing you to roll your eyes as he pulls away from the hug to take a sip from his water bottle.

Despite his sarcasm, you couldn’t help but smile. Between wondering just what Daniel might have in store for you later, the heavenly sight before you of the man who had been giving you butterflies for weeks, and your first ever podium in F1, you were positively elated and grinning with excitement.

You look up at Daniel, noticing his tight grip around his bottle as he gulps down his beverage, his Adam’s apple flexing as he does so, sweat dripping down the sides of his neck, his face flushed red with sweaty curls plastered to his forehead, and suddenly those all-too-familiar butterflies reappear once again in your stomach.

Daniel twists the lid back on his bottle with his tattooed fingers and looks up, noticing your eyes fixed on him, zoned out and completely oblivious to his gaze.

“Like what you see?” Daniel teases, and you snap out of your trance, searching your brain for something to say that doesn’t make you look like a total weirdo.

“Fuck off Ricciardo.” You retort, turning around to grab your own bottle from the table behind you.

“My hotel room, 10pm. See you later, Doll.” He says, before walking away to prepare for the podium celebrations.

9:57pm. You watch as the alarm clock beside you flashes from a 7 to an 8 and jump up from your tense position on the bed.

Glancing around the room, you wonder what exactly you should bring with you. Keys? Always important if you want to get back into your room later, definitely take those. You tuck them in the pocket of your team hoodie and whirl around the room to look for the next thing. Phone? Dead and charging on the dresser, great. Alcohol? Probably a good call. You grab the un-opened bottle of champagne from the bed that had been left there by housekeeping to celebrate your podium finish and tuck it under your arm before racing out of the door.

9:59pm. You raise your arm to knock on Daniel’s hotel room door, which, thankfully, was only two doors away from your own, and tap your knuckle gently, which pushes the door open.

You tentatively sneak through the gap opened by the unlocked door into the dark room, your vision blurry as your eyes attempt to acclimatise to the darkness.

“Daniel?” You say, squinting to try and locate your teammate’s silhouette in the room. You take a few more steps forward, placing your champagne bottle beside the door frame before fondling the wall to attempt to find the light switch under your fingers.

“If you’re going to jump out and scare me, I will actually kill you, and I’m not even joking. Like I’ll go to jail and you’ll be dead and Cyril will be super pissed off.” You say, stepping further into the room, losing all contact with the walls either side of you in the vast suite.

You hear a noise, and whip around to investigate, only to be met with the sensation of hands covering your eyes from behind you.

“Guess who?” You hear from behind you in that oh-so-familiar Australian accent.

“Mark Webber?” You exclaim sarcastically, before the lights click on, and Daniel removes his hands from your eyes.

“You’re so funny, you know that right, Doll?” He says, his voice monotone and his expression deadpan as you turn to face him.

“Was that my surprise? You attacking me like the demon in some shitty Aussie horror movie knock-off?” You question, shaking your head in disapproval while your mouth twitches into a smile.

“Nope.” He says, reaching for his back pocket. “This is.”

Daniel raises the jangling object before your eyes as he smirks, the metal of the chain clanking against that of the steel cuffs.

“I thought you said those were a little more flimsy than the ones you were used to?” You say, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, I have better ones at home, but for now, they’ll have to do.”

“Do for what?” You question, the familiar butterflies returning to your stomach as your mind races. Was he really asking you to do what you think he was? All signs pointed to yes, and yet you wanted to be sure. A few weeks ago, the two of you could barely even stomach being in the same room as one another, and now? Was he really thinking of handcuffing you to the bed and holding you at his mercy?

“What do you think?” Daniel says, before dropping the handcuffs to his feet with a clatter and placing his hand on your cheek, pulling you in for a sweet first kiss.

Your lips move together in unison as you both scramble to taste one another. The taste of celebratory champagne floods your senses, reminding you of your earlier excitement as you both sought to drench one another in the sweet alcoholic nectar. Your hand works its way up his arm, to his shoulder, and finally settles at the nape of his neck, gently tugging on his curls as you seek to bring him even closer into you.

As Daniel pulls away to catch his breath, your hand remains in his hair, still slightly damp from his post-race shower, and gently caress his scalp with your fingers.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He says between exhausted breaths. His thumb travels down your face to gently touch your soft lips, the spot which, moments ago, he had just kissed for the first time.

“No longer than me, I bet.” You whisper against his touch, laughing slightly at the absurdity of the situation. You always assumed he had hated you. All those snide remarks and comments made in passing to the press and the other drivers leading you to one possible conclusion. Only now did you realise there was maybe something else behind them all. Perhaps it was a way of dealing with his feelings? Not unlike a little boy pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes in the playground to get her attention.

“Now, Doll, you’re going to have to be a good girl and not pull those handcuffs too hard, okay? I stole them from Cyril after filming, and I don’t think he’ll be too happy if he finds them broken.” Daniel says, pressing his lips to your ear so that you feel his every word.

You nod your head in response, finding yourself speechless once again in response to your teammate.

“Use your words, Doll. I need you to promise me you’ll be good.” He says, his voice low.

“I promise I’ll be good.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper as you feel a throbbing sensation building in your core.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Daniel says, before claiming your lips once again with his own.

Unlike the previous kiss, this one is more forceful, more passionate. He wraps his arms around your waist, his fingers tucking beneath the soft material of your hoodie and willing it up and over your head, breaking the kiss for a moment before returning his lips to yours.

You rest your hands on his hips, gently tracing upwards underneath his shirt with your fingers, caressing the soft skin of his toned abs with your fingertips. He breaks the kiss once again to quickly discard his shirt to the floor, allowing you to free reign to roam his tanned chest with your hands.

You brush your palms slowly up his body, before wrapping your hands around his neck and clasping your fingers below his nape, pulling your own body even closer to him.

“Fuck, (y/n), I want you so bad.” Daniel says as he pulls his lips away from yours.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You say, attempting to take control as your left hand travels back down his body and into the soft material of his sweatpants. You wrap your hand around the base of his hardening cock and use your fingertips to tease the sensitive underside.

Daniel whimpers under your touch, his head tipping back as an expression of pure pleasure graces his face.

He regains his composure as you remove your hand from his shaft, and he presses his forehead against your own. “No.” He says, “tonight, Doll, it’s all about you.”

You tilt your head upwards, your eyes meeting his as the tips of your noses graze one another. His deep brown eyes sparkle in the dim yellow light of the room as he gazes into yours with a look of hunger and desire.

Daniel grabs your ass firmly in his hands before lifting you and throwing you down on the soft sheets of the bed. You gasp at the sudden action, a smirk playing on your lips as he retrieves the handcuffs he had previously discarded on the floor.

Eager to be a good girl for Daniel, you hold your hands up above your head, aligning them with the metal post in the centre of the bed. Daniel chuckles at you as he walks over to the side of the bed, taking a seat beside you on the mattress as he unlocks the handcuffs.

“Such a good girl for me.” Daniel muses as he tightens the first cuff around your wrist, “is that okay?” He asks, and you nod. He wraps the metal chain around the bed frame before taking your other wrist in his fingers, closing the cuff with his opposite hand.

You arch your back off the bed, and the chain of the cuffs rattles and strains against the bed frame.

“Remember what I said, Doll, we don’t want to break those cuffs, do we?” Daniel questions as he climbs onto the bed, kneeling between your open thighs.

“No, Daniel. I’ll be careful.” You respond, and he hums contentedly, before placing his hands on your shoulders, tucking his fingers beneath your bra straps. He gently pulls the straps aside and kisses the flesh they had once covered. His hands softly travel up and down your arms as he continues to kiss your chest, his head moving slowly down between your breasts, down your stomach, and eventually to the lace of your panties.

Daniel kisses you over the fabric, reducing the distance between each kiss as he edges closer and closer to your sensitive clit. As he finally makes contact, his lips pressing the fabric firmly against your clit, you let out a soft moan. Daniel chuckles against you, the vibrations of his voice driving you crazy. If you weren’t being such a good girl for him, you would have surely bucked your hips up into his face, forcing even more contact with him. But you wanted to be good for him.

“These damn things are in my way, can I take them off?” Daniel says, lifting his head to look up at you.

“Yes, Daniel.” You whine, nodding your head quickly, hoping that the quicker you nod the sooner his lips will be on you once again.

He wraps his fingers in the lacy fabric and slowly begins to pull them down your thighs, the pads of his fingertips grazing the soft skin of your outer thighs as he does so. You rub your thighs together, hoping to replace the sensation of Daniel between your legs, but it just doesn't feel the same.

He discards your panties to the floor with the rest of your clothing and returns to you, his eyes focused on his target as he dips his head down, licking a stripe from your pussy to your clit. The sensation of his tongue on you sends a feeling of electricity through your entire body. You wanted more.

Daniel grips your hips with his fingers, rubbing small circles into your flesh with the pads of his thumbs. He looks up at you once again, an expression of pure ecstasy on your face allowing him a smug smile as he dips his head once more, burying his tongue in your hole.

His nose presses against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, the muscle expertly pressing as deep as possible to pleasure you.

“Fuck, Daniel.” You moan as he slides a finger into your entrance, lubricated with a combination of your juices and his own saliva. His tongue moves to work on your clit as he slides a second finger inside you, stretching you out and moving even deeper within you than his tongue was able.

He grazes the sensitive bundle of nerves with his teeth, causing your back to suddenly arch up off of the bed, a moan escaping your lips you were unable to stifle.

“I want to hear you, Doll.” Daniel says against you, “Don’t hold back.”

His fingers continue to thrust in and out of you, and with the sensation of his words against your clit, you feel your orgasm begin its approach, soft moans escaping your lips with every movement.

Your senses are overwhelmed as Daniel persists in fucking you with his fingers, his lips and tongue still toying with your clit. Your back arches up off of the bed to pull him in even deeper, straining the handcuffs against the bed frame. As you get closer and closer to your undoing, you find yourself caring far less about being good, with Daniel’s warning to not strain the flimsy cuffs drowned out by the sensation of immense pleasure.

Daniel flashes his eyes up towards you as he hears the jangle of the chain against the bed and chuckles into you once again, continuing his assault on your clit, his fingers speeding up and curling inside you, hitting just the right spot.

He sucks hard on your clit and your vision goes blurry as your orgasm washes over you, your pussy tightening around his fingers as you are consumed by the feeling of ecstasy. Your back arches once again and the metal cuffs strain and snap, releasing your hands from their restrained position at the head of the bed.

Still deep in pleasure, you use your hands to grip Daniel’s curls, rubbing at his scalp with your fingertips, completely forgetting that you had previously been restrained.

“I told you to be careful Doll.” Daniel says as he removes his fingers from inside you, adjusting his position so that he is laid next to you in the bed.

You realise your mistake, and gently touch the broken cuffs adorning each of your wrists, offering Daniel a shy smile of apology.

“I can always buy Cyril some new ones, he probably didn’t even realise I took ‘em.” He says, before taking the fingers that had previously been inside you and sucking them clean.

You look over at Daniel and stare at him in wonder. His curls sweaty and plastered to his forehead as they had been after the race, his nose, lips and chin glistening with your juices - you were certain you had never seen a sight as beautiful in your entire life.

“You’re like, really good at that.” You say, turning your body to face Daniel. He does the same, laying beside you so close your lips are practically touching once again.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Daniel responds, and you roll your eyes, unable to suppress a giggle as he smiles smugly at you.

“Well, you’re definitely, like, top five, Ricciardo.” You say, and he fakes being hurt, bringing his hand to his chest dramatically in faux shock.

“Top five? I’m not podium material?” He laughs, and you giggle at him.

“That’s P4 Daniel, I repeat, P4” You tease, and he slaps you gently on the arm.

“Okay, so… what now?” Daniel says between chuckles.

“I brought champagne, we could have a glass, or three, and maybe afterwards I could do to you what you did to me? I mean, you did beat me today, It’s only fair.” You say, pointing to the bottle of champagne you had left on the floor prior to being ambushed by Daniel in the dark.

“Sounds like a plan, Doll” Daniel says, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before jumping up out of bed to retrieve the bottle.

Just a few weeks ago, the two of you could barely stand the sight of one another. Now, you found yourself laying in Daniel’s bed, awaiting the first, and definitely not the last, sleepless night in each other’s company. And it’s all thanks to a stupid team challenge, and a flimsy pair of handcuffs.

***************************************************

Eeeeeeee, I hope you loved it 🧡 thank you again, Will. Love you so much, collaborating on this with you was so much fun x

@sgkophie

[haikyuucute]

I saw that your asks are open and I am obsessed with your omegaverse stories (especially the Ushijima Untameable series!) and HC’s ❤️ So I was wondering if you would do an alpha!Atsumu with an omega that doesn’t like him at first but they’re both so overwhelmed by each other’s scents that it is inevitable that they would become mates. I’m still new to omegaverse fics so I’m not sure if that’s even a thing? I just want alpha!Atsumu and to tell you I love your work! -B

A/N: of course that can be a thing! Thank you so much btw!!

Selfish

Warning: hurt/comfort, reader gets depressed

When the words were first spoken to you, you didn’t know what to think.

You had spent so long resenting him with every fiber of your being, rejecting confession after confession, that you didn’t know how to react when Atsumu just... gave up.

You were still standing left in shock, feet glued to the pavement as you stared ahead blankly after he had already gone into the gym.

You weren’t used to fighting with him. Some arguments here and there when he got frustrated from your constant rejection but he had never raised his voice at you.

Your legs felt like lead as you forced them to move, playing his words over and over again in your head.

‘Ya know what? Fine. Ya want me to leave ya alone, ya got yer wish. I’m done.’

You’d never admit it, but you felt your heart break with those words.

You felt numb as you walked home.

—

Soulmates.

You never thought much of the word until you met Atsumu.

It was rare, but it happened. Two mates that were simply made for each other, easily indicated by how intoxicating the others scent was.

You never thought you’d be one of those people to have a soulmate but here you were.

His scent was like nothing else, hints of sandalwood, deep, warm, and woody. Every time he was near, it felt as if it wrapped you in a blanket and made you feel comfortable and safe. The scent invaded your dreams at night. You even missed his scent when he wasn’t near. And you knew he had very similar feelings about you and your own scent if his yearning gaze was any indication and the fact that you’re pretty sure he stole your sweater from your seat one day.

The only thing though, was that he was just so infuriating.

He was selfish, egotistical, condescending, and a liar— how you were expected to become mates with an alpha like that was beyond you.

Not once did you waver in your decision to not be his mate, but now.... you didn’t know anymore.

You should’ve been relieved, elated even, that he had given up. It was only the one thing you asked of him since he set his eyes on you after all. But now everything was just so confusing...

You felt a migraine coming on.

”Hm, that’s weird,” your best friend, muttered curiously. Lunch had just started and instead of Atsumu coming towards your desk like usual, he instead just left, most likely to the gym. “What’s up with Atsumu?” She raised a brow, turning towards you. “He never just leaves.”

You shrugged, keeping your eyes trained on the class work in front of you, “Said he was done pursuing me.”

”W-wait, really!?” She practically shot out of her seat in surprise. “So— wait, that’s a good thing? Right...?” She asked carefully. She knew better than anyone just how much you disliked Atsumu but still— he was your soulmate.

”’Course, it’s what I’ve been asking him to do,” you mumbled quietly.

Yuki eyed you carefully, “Alright...” she hummed softly, not believing you for a second.

After the next few days you came to a conclusion.

Maybe you were just as bad as Atsumu for all the things you faulted him for.

You had been looking down on him for all this time, too proud to accept him as your mate because he wasn’t to your own standards. And just when he decides to give up on you and move on, sparing himself from the constant heart break, you finally realized you made a mistake.

You were selfish.

The next few days in school you had been moping around, barely paying any attention in class. Your gaze glued to Atsumu every moment he was near.

You noticed how different his scent was lately and you knew yours was different as well— he was upset and you were distressed. 

It took all of your self control to not go near him and cling to him until both your scents returned to normal.

You had no idea how he was managing to stay away from you too. But you had to hand it to him, he was a very stubborn alpha.

Soon it had been three weeks of complete silence on his end and finally— finally you had reached your breaking point after the day you were having.

To start it off, you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. The previous day you caught Atsumu flirting with a couple omegas and the thought of him actually moving on had haunted you all night. 

It had only gotten worse after realizing you forgot to make lunch and didn’t have any money.

But what would’ve been the icing on the cake was when your adviser called you in—

”(L/N)-san,” your adviser sighed, “What’s been going on, you completely flunked these last exams.”

“Sorry, I’ve been dealing... with some stuff.”

They sighed again, shaking their head, “Well, you’re going to have to take supplementary classes to make up these exams next weekend.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Next weekend? But I have a performance with the music club...”

“I don’t know what to tell you, (L/N)-san. Your studies come first, understood? Please study hard for your makeup exams.”

You bit your lip, nodding as you held back the frustrated tears pricking at your eyes, before promptly leaving.

Again though, that would’ve been the icing on the cake if it wasn’t for the fact that you had to walk home in the rain... realizing you forgot your umbrella.

You shivered in the cold rain, completely soaked. The tears that ran down your face mixed with the falling rain. The sun hidden by the dark clouds.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew it wasn’t your home. You were only running on instinct now.

It wasn’t until you found yourself outside a house with the name ‘Miya’ that you realized what you were doing.

You rang the bell.

You truly were a selfish person.

You waited anxiously for the door to open and when it did, it revealed the person you were looking for.

Atsumu stood frozen, shocked at the sight of you.

You sniffled, “... P-please don’t s-stop liking me, I’m sorry.”

Atsumu ran a hand through his hair, a shaky breath escaping him. “Took ya long enough. C’mere.”

He extended a hand out to you. You didn’t hesitate to place your hand in his, an instant spark and warm feeling flooding within you and despite the fact you were soaked, he pulled you into him and cradled the back of your head close to his neck.

You sobbed in relief as his warm scent wrapped around you and you clung onto him tightly.

————————

I don’t think I’ll be doing taglists anymore, sowwy 🥺 (I will for series tho)

[diavolosthots]

Can you do a Lucifer x reader where they cuddle? No smut needed I just think this boy needs some love and fluff. I love your work!

Man I also think this boy needs some love

And I'm super excited to write something other than smut

The Morning Star (LUCIFER X GN!READER)

In the beginning, Lucifer and all who stood with him were cast out for something they believed was right. Some believe it’s because of his voice in free will and choice, others say things ran a lot deeper than that, and they did. It went far beyond free will and the right to choose for oneself. It was embedded in love and the ability to love unconditionally. After all, isn’t that what love should be? Lucifer loved someone with such might that he was willing to risk everything for them, but he also loved someone so dearly that he knew he couldn’t stand with them anymore. The Celestial War was rooted deep within Lucifer’s love for his father and brought to light by the love he held for his sister, and he truly thought he did the right thing. He still believes he did the right thing and he’s suffering for it, or so he believes. 

He never truly forgave himself for what he put everyone else through. It’s a constant reminder that it was their choice to follow his lead, but it’s so hard when he should’ve led better. Throughout the centuries, Lucifer has become withdrawn and uninterested in everything. He upheld some of his hobbies and likes, but he just can’t bring himself to truly, genuinely enjoy something because it’s a constant reminder of someone who truly, genuinely enjoyed something and got that taken away from them. It’s a mix of fear and unspoken responsibility he feels toward everyone, and he knows it’s his own mind messing with him, but it’s so hard to get out of that mindset. That’s why he drowns himself in work and no matter how tiring it is, or how much it consumes him, he always goes back for more. 

“You need to relax.” or “take a shot, man, you deserve it.” or “How about something you actually want to do?” He’s heard it all throughout the years, and as much as he enjoys his peace and quiet, it’s not long before his mind begins to wander and he’s stuck with just himself. It’s always just him. He can’t allow anyone else to get close. Or rather, he never allowed anyone else to get close until you snuck your way into his life. “Just an exchange student..” is what Diavolo said, but you turned out to be so much more than that, and his first reaction was to be on defense. The first thing he wanted to do was put up his walls and some type of protection shield so that you wouldn’t push through, but his efforts were too late and he found a soft spot for you. Or maybe you made a soft spot for yourself? He couldn’t tell. But now that you managed to mean something to him, it’s becoming harder and harder to not just drown himself because if he wants a healthy relationship, he needs to cherish and nurture it. He needs to pay attention to you and be willing to compromise, which is hard. 

But he’s been trying. That’s why he’s finding himself getting 5 hours of sleep now instead of 2. Or cutting back on 6 cups of coffee each morning and only having 2 and then the rest be black tea. Or he also found time to carve out an hour a day where it’s designated “Lucifer time”, as you called it, where he just gets to sit and relax, and listen to music or the like, whether that be by himself or with you. It’s nice, truly, and it’s hard not to let you into his heart when you work so hard for him. You’re so open and compassionate, and sometimes frustrating, but you take him for who he is and you don’t try to change him. Most importantly, you don’t try to pry anything out of him that he isn’t ready to share, and he appreciates that. That last thing is also probably the reason why he lets you change his life so much. It’s the patience and love to him that mean the most. 

This morning, he even stayed in bed with you, cuddled up and way past his new 5 hour mark, but he didn’t care. The paperwork was a mountain on his desk and he’s sure Diavolo would be phoning him anytime now concerning a meeting he’d rather forget, but… that’s okay. You were curled up into his side with your fingers tracing patterns over his bare chest. Lucifer liked to sleep almost, if not completely, naked, and although you couldn’t do that all the time, you actually found comfort in the fact that you were always skin to skin with him, or at least skin to minimal clothing. “What are you thinking about?” Lucifer smiled softly, staring out of his window. He’s just been holding you, lazily brushing his finger over your arm every once in a while as he thought about everything and nothing. 

“Nothing worth mentioning.” You knew better than that, of course. Even if he won’t admit it, you knew he was wrecking his brain all morning and his body was itching to do something instead of thinking about it any longer. You appreciated the effort he put into not doing that, though. Habits die hard, but Lucifer’s trying. “Hm… well… tell me when you’re ready to talk about it.” His head turned toward yours and you shifted a bit to look up at him, tired eyes finding his own. He was just staring, quite honestly, silently thanking you for being so understanding and patient with him. “I will… but first.” He pulled you on top of him with a groan, making you squeal a bit before you laughed tiredly, “I do require a morning kiss, you know?” You hummed, nodding and leaning in to peck his lips sweetly before nuzzling your face into his neck right after. 

“Yes I know… how could I forget?” His arms were securely around your frame, holding you tightly against him. It’s just a reminder that you’re really here and the kiss… well, the kiss reminds him that, no matter how scared he is, or how much is on his mind, or how many worries pass in front of his eyes throughout the day, you’ll always be there to love him, and be patient with him, and respect his boundaries. Lucifer was harsh, he isn’t even going to deny that. He was also filled with emotions and so, so starved of all of them at the same time. He was complicated and complex and not many would ever see this side of him simply because they brush him off as the mean, arrogant, egotistical older brother, when in reality…

“You’re still my morning star, Lucifer. The brightest of them all….” 

[saphirered]

I Don’t Hate You (Vagrant pt3.)

The lady at the front desk gives you a dirty look as you come straggling in, leaving a wet trail behind you, boots sopping with an equally disgruntled expression on your face. You toss her a coin, if only to be done with it all and go back up the stairs. There you see, Fjord is no longer sitting in the hallway and probably either has gotten himself a room of his own or Molly’s taken mercy upon the half-orc and let him sleep peacefully and undisturbed in their shared room. A sense of dread still lingers as you approach your door and you take a sip from the opened bottle in your hand, hoping to find some courage to push you over the edge and just get it over with. You can see the hint of orange light bleeding through the small gap. 

When the door opens Caleb looks up from his book, or well, your book. You look like an absolute mess and he knows you know you do. It’s an unspoken agreement to not comment on this fact made in that brief moment of eye contact, for both of your sakes. 

“Do not question my terrible life’s choices, Widogast.” You grumble as you let yourself fall backwards on your bed. You don’t even have the energy to magic away the remainders of the rain that kept you company from your soaked person. Well, that or the fact that the droplets rolling down your skin hid the tears from the panic attack and brief existential crisis you had on that rooftop before you came down. 

Caleb puts down the book, gets up from the bed and slowly and carefully inches over to your side of the room. He hesitantly sits down on the edge. You have half the mind to kick him off just because but can’t find the energy to do so. Despite your distaste for magic users like him, being alone after your mental breakdown you just experienced, really sucks. Caleb pats your knee awkwardly in an attempt to comfort but not wanting to cross any boundaries. It’s pathetic, he knows because one can hardly fix a stab wound by slapping on a bandaid. His own past experiences have left him a tad bit at a loss when it comes to comforting a person in pain, especially one so stubborn and crass as you have been towards him. 

Still, Caleb has figured out your hatred isn’t directed at him personally. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s people with abilities like him that have played a part in your past causing you pain and suffering and the wound is still very fresh, hence your trauma being reflected onto him, despite his complete lack of involvement in your before the moment you met. It may not have helped that your hostility towards him hasn’t exactly encouraged him to try and build a proper relationship with you. He hardly even knows you yet still he feels as if he knows your tells, the things you go through and why you act like you do. He may not know the details of your life but he feels safe to say he knows you better than any of the others. 

It’s not his lack of knowledge and insight into your life beyond what’s surface and what he can read off you that holds him back. It’s the fear of what he might find within you that will tear open wounds of his own he’s worked so hard to cover up. It’s the fear you might be one step ahead of him in a similar story and there is no hope for people like you and him after all. It’s the fear those you run from are the same people he has tried so hard to escape. It’s the fear of you, that you might be each others’ salvation, or undoing because he knows what he has the capability to become, what you could become. 

But here you lie, upon your bed curled up, traces of tears long since fallen, possibly even ran out, tightness in your throat, indents of your nails in your palms from clenching too much, frustration and anger in your eyes is still overwhelmed by pain and hopelessness and a wish the void would just come and claim you, where you no longer fear the consequences of running and will be able to obliterate those who caused you so much hurt, or die trying in the process. Caleb is reminded of himself in that cell of his own, for years, a broken mind piecing itself together from the shambles it was left in, barely a shell of what it used to be. 

When he promised himself he would do anything and everything in his power to take down these tormentors and their accomplices so no one would ever have to suffer like he had, still is suffering, Caleb didn’t expect to find you. He still remembers himself begging, praying, screaming just to not be alone, to have someone tell him there is still hope and not all is lost. There’s still good in this wretched world and if the world turns bleak, it’s up to you to be that good despite everything. Those were the pretty words and empty promises of a dreamer but does that make them a lie? 

“Don’t patronise me. I’m not some fragile broken child in need of mothering.” Caleb retreats his hand, clasping them together in his lap as he studies your face. Your eyes are cold, your expression matching. A mask, he knows. A way to protect yourself. 

“Good. Because I have no intention of doing so. I want you to be blunt and truthful and I don’t want you to hold back. I want you to humour me and answer some questions.” You raise an eyebrow expecting there to be something behind Caleb’s request but his stare is unreadable, like a practiced mask of his own. 

“You want me to be blunt and give you a peace of my mind?” You humour. You’ll tell the asshole okay. You’ll bicker and fight and quarrel if that’s what he wants no problem. Maybe a battle of wits and words will get you back into your groove. 

Little do you know that is in fact not what Caleb is looking for. Not exactly. He isn’t looking for a fight. He’s looking for answers, how to help you despite your differences because no one deserves to go through this, especially not alone. So because of that, he will not humour you in turn with his usual reply to your attempts to push him. He doesn’t intend this to end in another futile empty argument. Not now. So he’ll drop the game and go straight for the jugular. 

“Why do you hate me?” You freeze at the abrupt and sudden question. Caleb knows you don’t really hate him personally but coddling you won’t work and some things you’ll have to realise by yourself first. Finding the strength to lean up on your elbows you tilt your head at him as a half smirk creeps upon your lips.

“Because you’re an egotistical self-serving bastard who cares for nothing but himself and the people useful to him, until they outlive their usefulness.” The words are meant to cut like knives and usually you’d get a rise out of Caleb by such a statement but when you don’t see any response to your words, nothing but those blue eyes staring into yours so… unbothered, it feels as if those knives are turned onto you instead. You’re not quick enough to get rid of that tiny hint of guilt slithering across your features. 

“Why do you hate me?” Caleb asks again, voice still calm like it’s the most unremarkable question ever. He could have asked you about the weather with that tone. 

“Because you’re an asshole.” 

“Why do you hate me?” 

“Seriously? I already gave you an answer. Was I not clear the first time?” That guilt in your stomach starts growing, festering. There’s something in your mind pushing through but you try to fight it off, not liking the thought of being faced with those emotions. You’ve worked too hard to push them away. 

“Just answer the question. Why do you hate me?” Caleb sees you struggle. Your first answers where in the blink of an eye, a defence mechanism slipping into place. That works, for a while, until it doesn’t, until you start questioning it and give yourself a moment to think.

“Because…” Because you’re a coward. Because you run from your problems. Because you leave other people to swipe up the mess for you. Because you’re a monster to blame for the pain of others. Because you’re to blame for your own pain. Because you couldn’t save them. Because. Because. Because. Those are not reasons you hate Caleb. You take in a sharp breath, clenching your jaw in anger, nose scrunching holding at bay the curses from passing your lips and the threat of all your emotions from spilling out like a breaking dam. 

“Why do you hate me?” The words now, do not sound void of emotion, but instead are filled with a warmth and pity. Damn him! Damn him to the hells and abyss! When you don’t answer he repeats it again. Caleb gives you amicable time to answer, leaving a long silence to give your mind the time and space to think for itself, analyse and process and you hate every second of it because you can’t stop it. The cracks in the walls you’ve tried to hard to build become more apparent by the second. He asks again. 

“I don’t bloody hate you!” You shout, pretty sure you may just have woken up the entire floor. The silence after the words leave your lips is deafening. 

“Then what do you hate about me that causes you to act the way you do?” Your hands clench back into fists, your nails pressing down again in the still tender skin from but minutes ago. You don’t want to say it. You really don’t but that pain raging through your body wants to get out and you feel the floodgates opening inch by inch despite your efforts to fight it. Then there’s that voice in the back of your mind; maybe speaking the unspoken will give you some peace. 

“I don’t hate you! I just hate what your remind me of. It’s like you’re here to personally torture me so please just leave me alone to suffer, get over it and move on.” You don’t want to remember the last time you pleaded for something, and had hoped to never plead for anything again yet here you are. 

“I am going to give you a choice and I’ll only offer it once, so listen very carefully.” You’ve never seen Caleb look so intense, so genuine, and so determined. You can’t do anything but listen so you nod, signalling him to continue and that you’re paying attention to his every word and not to twist them for your own amusement for once. Whatever previous relation, or rather lack thereof you’ve had is gone now. There’s only you two, in a place of vulnerability and without judgement. 

“You’ve got two options. One; you tell me to piss off, like you usually do. I’ll go back to bed, back to sleep and leave you alone. We will never speak of this again, never mention this and go our separate ways. We will remain cordial when interacting and won’t let our own grievances get in the way of the others.” You take in the words, nodding to confirm you understand. 

“Or two; you and I are going to talk. You are going to tell me what you wish, and can tell me provided it’s the truth and I will listen. If you wish to tell me your life story I will listen. If you wish to tell me all your troubles I will listen. If you wish to share your pain, I will listen. And know that I will help you if you’ll allow me to. Because if you keep doing this on your own, let the guilt and grief and pain swallow you whole, I know exactly where it will lead. Do not allow it to be your undoing, or turn you into a person beyond your recognition.” Midway through his offer your eyes have closed and your brow furrows. You bit your lip and that combined with the movement of your eyes behind your eyelids are the only indication to Caleb you’re still listening to him. 

Caleb gives you time. He doesn’t expect an answer right away. That’s not how this works but he does study you, attempting to get an inkling of what’s going through your mind. He feels warmth wrap around his wrist, glancing down to notice your fingers have wrapped around it and hold on tightly. You’re holding onto a lifeline and he knows it. 

“Why?” Your, words a pained choke, you don’t dare open your eyes, don’t trust the look in Caleb’s eyes to tear down what last defences you had up and turning you into even more of a broken mess. 

“Because despite what people might have you believe, there is still good in this world.” You’re unable to stifle a sob, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. 

“I’ve not known much kindness in my life but I feel confident in saying this is the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me. It’s why my pervious actions and words towards you make me feel like an absolute ass even more. I hope you find it in yourself to forgive me.” You release Caleb’s wrist, feeling grounded once more despite the buzzing in your head and twiddle with your fingers awaiting a response, the tense air slowly lifting as you sit in peace and silence. 

You nod, wiping at the corners of your eyes before you open them, a bit more red and puffy than they were before you entered the room. You finally look at the wizard and take in a deep breath before nodding again. If it were anyone else, any other moment you might have said no. You’d even have laughed at whoever tried this emotional shit on you. But it’s time. You’re not getting any better nor can you repress everything forever. It’s time to face some of these troubles head on. Luckily you won’t have to do it on your own. It will take time and effort and it’s going to hurt like hell but it has to be done. You have to move on and learn how to live. You owe it to yourself, if not the people you’ve left behind. 

“Now this doesn’t mean we’re going to be best friends from now on. You’re still an asshole and so am I so don’t think I’ll let you off easy for your comments and the trouble you cause.” The corner of Caleb’s lips turns up slightly as he speaks and you mimic his expression.

“I don’t think anyone else could handle it, so I’m sorry to disappoint but you’re definitely stuck with me, Widogast.” You muster a smile, exhausted. It’s mutually understood the conversation as per your agreement won’t happen right here, right now but instead when you’re both ready. For now, at least you won’t pretend to hate each other anymore and start over. 

“Hey, Caleb?” You ask.

“Yes?” He answers but before he knows it your arms wrap around him and pull him into your embrace. Caleb’s form goes rigid shocked by not only the gesture but by the physical touch itself. After a good few moments he finds himself ease just a little, enough to return the embrace lightly.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

[softboywriting]

Hard To Love | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You’re Nathan’s personal assistant. He’s an insufferable bastard. Both of you have unchecked tension and feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? [swearing] [sexual themes/situations] [arguments] [exhibitonism - implied] [pining] [Dominant!Nathan] [Nickname use - pet name/non derogatory] [Nathan being Nathan] [nsfw - kissing, lap sitting/grinding, heavily implied masturbation!f reader] [F!reader/Nathan]

Word Count: 7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan is...well... Nathan. Insufferable, workaholic, egotistical. He is a lot to handle and doing so isn't always easy. You had a lot of breakdowns, screaming matches, some nearly coming to blows. But you didn't give up and you learned to work around him, and coax him out of moods, serve him back the same dry humor and disinterest. After finding out he had gone through four assistants, two that never made it past their first week, you knew you couldn't give up on him. There was a diamond in the rough and you were going to find it because despite all of the hard times, you care for him. He's a fucking bastard, but he's your fucking bastard.

"It's been six months." Nathan says over breakfast one morning.

You look back from where you're cleaning up the pans you used to make his vegetable omelet with soy egg substitute. His favorite. You had taken over cooking from Kyoko three months ago when she began to malfunction. You're not sure what happened, or if maybe Nathan staged the malfunction to give you more to do. You suspect the latter.

"Six months? Really?"

"Don't act like you don't count the days."

"I don't actually." You set your plate of food on the table and he reaches for one of your toasts. He has his own, well, had. He ate it already but he has egg left so he wants more toast. "I stopped months ago."

He chuckles softly. "I still don't know why you won't quit."

"Why do you want me to?"

"I don't."

"Then why do you bring it up?" You raise your eyebrows and he shoots you a look over his vitamin water. "Cat got your tongue?"

Nathan folds his hands, elbows on the table as he shakes his head. "Most people in your position, having dealt with what you have dealt with, would be itching to get as far away as possible. Surely you must be mentally unstable to stay with me, gaining some sick pleasure from our fights and shit. I almost feel bad."

He almost feels bad, as if he were to blame for nothing. Typical. "And if I am fucked up? Gonna fire me?"

"Fuck no."

You smile over your coffee. Decaf. He won't have regular in the house after he nearly went into cardiac arrest from an over abundance of caffeine. He did it to himself. Slugging back redbulls with his vodka after drinking his pre-work out mix that had far more than he needed in it. He may be a technical genius but he can be such a fucking moron.

"You like me." You tease, rubbing your barefoot on his leg under the table. "You would miss me if I left."

He snorts indignantly but does not deny your observations.

"How was the food?"

"Perfect." He sits back, foot bumping yours now, running up the side. "Don't know how you do it."

"Perfect? Wow. High praise from you." You swat his foot away with yours and he starts trying to pin it down by stepping on it. "Better than Kyoko's?"

Nathan hums. "I programmed her with cooking skills from top chefs across the internet. Technically she should be the greatest chef on the planet. So the fact that you can make me food that is better floors me."

You hook your ankle around his and he lets out a little grunt. "Cooking is an act of love. Yes you can program an AI to make things perfectly but technical skill doesn't equate to preferred taste. Come on, Nathan, you're smarter than this."

"Questioning my intelligence now?"

"Every day." You jerk your leg back as he lifts his other foot to trap it. "Cheat! You cheater! One foot only!"

Nathan lets out a boisterous laugh, head falling back, hand over his chest. "You get so worked up over that!"

You roll your eyes and stab your eggs viciously. "Fuck off Nathan."

"No need to get so mouthy."

"Mouthy." You scoff. "Rich coming from you."

He stands, catching your chin in his grasp. "I got you to break."

"You- oh God damn it." You jerk away, arm extending to shove him.

He chuckles proudly to himself. "I'll be in my lab. Find me if you need me."

"Gonna let me in today?"

"I might."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later."

____________________

Nathan could have the AI clean the house, but then you would run out of things to do. Honestly your job could be done by any one of his creations, humanoid or not. You don't actually need to be there at all, and yet Nathan keeps you around. For a man who is hell bent on privacy and secrecy surrounding his work, you have no idea how he has let others in. He laughs when he says that he had the men who built the complex killed after the fact. Surely it's a joke. You think. Though you've never asked, never dared to investigate the truth in his words. It's best you don't know.

The house doesn't need cleaning that often. Just laundry, dishes, some sweeping and mopping should you or Nathan track in mud after a hike. Most chores take a few hours out of one day a week. Your title is assistant and yet you don't actually assist him. Not in his work anyway. You feel like your title should be maid or housekeeper. It's fine, you really don't care because he pays you so generously that you would do whatever he needs you to.

"Kitten!" Nathan's voice comes from the intercom system built in the house. "Come to the lab, kitten."

You scowl at the nickname. He dubbed you Kitten your second day at the complex because he thought your wandering around perplexed by the maze like design of the house was akin to a new kitten trying to find its way in the world. You suppose there could be worse names he could call you, and there are ones that have come out in screaming matches, but kitten has stuck.

"Lab. Now. Come on."

"Fuck." You groan, tossing aside your book you were getting very into.

"I heard that."

"Of course you did." You lift your badge and scan the door to your room to head out into the hall. One of the AI walks by and you think her name is Lily. She's beautiful. Unfortunately her programming has failed and she cannot speak. "Hi Lily."

Lily raises her hand in greeting.

If she is out then that must mean Nathan has been working on her. You turn away from the AI and walk down the hall to the junction that splits left to Nathan's room and right to another hall that goes to the lab and test rooms. The lab door is open, the light blue on the access pad.

Nathan spins around in his chair. "Kitten, you've made it."

"As if I could get lost."

"I have something to show you."

"Do you? I thought you didn't want me involved in your work."

Nathan gives you a hard look. "Do you want to fucking see it or not?"

"I don't even know what it is."

He grabs a small item off his desk and brings it to you. "This is it. My newest AI."

You take the small flash drive from him and turn it over in your hands. "This is a new program?"

"Yes. My best work yet. I'm going to build her this week."

"Exciting."

"Please show some enthusiasm for fucks sake." He snatches the device from your hand. "I'm kind enough to share this with you, you could at least say thank you."

"I never asked."

Nathan slaps the flash drive down on the desk and stares at you. He is not used to being served his own cold attitude and he never will be. Since you started going toe to toe with him, he has been on top of his game. It's like you engage his mind beyond his massive ego. "You're insufferable."

"Likewise." You smile and he smiles back. The pissing match has ended. "I need to get groceries soon."

"You know what I like."

"Of course I do." You fold your arms over your chest and he averts his eyes for a moment. You know he's staring at your breasts, pushed up in the tank top you had chosen to wear while deep cleaning your bathroom earlier. "But what do you want?"

"Loaded question, kitten."

"Going that route today?"

"Maybe." He saunters towards you and catches your hair between his fingers. "I want... something sweet."

You raise your eyebrows. "You're craving sugar? Are you ill?"

He chuckles. "A little. Just in the head."

"Seriously."

"Yes I want something sweet. Get me some donuts." He puts his hands on his hips. "Get yourself something too."

"I always get myself stuff. Do you think I only buy your groceries?"

"It's my house, of course I think you buy my shit."

You reach out and touch his beard, fingertips gliding along his cheek. You don't miss the way his eyes flutter at your touch. "Do you need your beard oil? The conditioner stuff? Looks dry."

He grabs your hand and curls his fingers around yours. "Yes, I do. But don't touch it."

"Possessive today huh?" You smirk and he groans irritably deep in his throat. "You live for my touch."

"I live for you to leave me the fuck alone."

"Then fire me."

"No."

"Then suffer." You bring your other hand up and pat his opposite cheek. "Does physical affection bother you Nathan? Does touching another human bother you so mu-"

He backs you against the wall and pins your wrists. His face is only inches from yours, body pouring heat onto you. It sparks something deep inside and you feel heat pooling in between your legs. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He murmurs, grip tight on your skin.

"Don't you have some issues to work out?"

"Fuck you."

"You'd like to."

Nathan drops your wrists at that and retreats into the lab, the door closing and locking behind him. It drives him mad that you're not one of his AI that he can order around and do what he pleases with. You like to think that's why he keeps you around, to remind him that he's human and he needs someone that isn't an algorithm to keep him sane. Maybe he also let a little piece of you crave out a chunk of his icy cold heart.

You rub your wrists and look at the reddened skin. They might bruise. You straighten your clothes and head back to your room. You'll need to wear something more appropriate to the store. It's cold out these days.

_____________________

"Do you get lonely?" Nathan asks one evening over drinks in the lounge.

You put down your laptop and give him your attention. It's the first time he's spoken to you in two days since the wrist grabbing incident. "Lonely?"

"Yeah. Do you miss relationships? Hook ups?"

"Not really. I was never super social to begin with."

"Right."

"Why?"

"Just curious." He takes a long drink, emptying his tumbler. "Why do you think I want to fuck you?"

You feel your cheeks redden. The way he is staring at you makes your arousal rear its ugly head. Staring shouldn't turn you on. He hasn't done anything. "I think you're desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Yeah. You decommissioned Kyoko months ago, Lily doesn't have a vagina and yes I know this because you told me in a drunken stupor ages ago. So you haven't fucked anything or anyone in months."

"You think I need to fuck?"

You stand and walk over to him, knocking his knees open to stand between his legs. "Nathan, just fucking admit that you want me. That you keep me around because one day you'll grow a pair of balls and ask me to sleep with you."

His hands come up and grab your hips. He pulls you down and you straddle his lap, thin pajama pants hardly acting as a barrier between you and his cock in his gray sweats. "I keep you around because you piss me off." He grips your ass and you roll your hips against him. "You piss me off and make my blood boil like no one else."

"So you hate me?"

Nathan brings your head down to meet his. "I couldn't hate you if I tried."

"Then what are we doing?"

"We're having a moment." He grabs your hair and you snap at his nose with your teeth in response. "Behave."

You let out a moan as he begins kissing up your throat. "This was your plan all along."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No."

"Then I'll make you." His hand closes around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you stop talking. "Why do you have to be so in my head? Why..." He kisses your shoulder, biting the junction between it and your neck. "Why did you have to show up?"

"You hired me." You whisper and he drops his hand from your throat in favor of sliding it up your shirt. "You selected me."

He rolls his hips up against you, biting down on your skin to elicit a yelp from you. "You're damn right I did."

You grind down against his cock and he grabs your hips to still them. You let out a soft whine from the lack of pleasure and he grips harder.

"Get up."

Your heart sinks, and you stare at him in confusion. "What?"

"Get up. We're not doing this." Nathan pushes you off of his lap and you stumble to your feet.

You straighten your clothes and walk around the coffee table to grab your laptop. You can't say you didn't expect this. It was a long shot to begin with and you initiated it so you knew he would shut it down. Still, it hurts. His rejection isn't disinterest, it's personal protection. He won't let anyone that close to his heart.

"Good night, Nathan." You mutter as you head for the doors to the inner workings of the complex.

"Night, Kitten."

_____________________

It is three days before you see Nathan again. Locking himself away isn't uncommon practice. It's a Thursday when you see him out on the deck with the punching bag. You happened to catch a glance when you were preparing breakfast as you had every day. He didn't eat with you, but you still made it for him and left it under the warmer. The plate was always gone when you came back, so at least you know he is eating.

You grab a few grapefruits from the basket on the counter and start juicing them. It'll be a nice surprise for him. You grab a cup from the cupboard and tilt the juicer to dump its contents for you. It looks good, smells tart but it is not your type of juice. Fitting for a man like Nathan. Bitter, tart and sort of hard to swallow. You rub a bit of the squeezed rinde around the top of the glass and grab the sugar dish to sprinkle some around the rim. A little sweet to lessen the bite, a representation of you in this metaphor.

"Kitten, good morning." Nathan says as you approach with his juice and a towel. "What's this?"

"Grapefruit."

He raises his eyebrows. "Fresh?"

"Yep." You hand him the glass and he inspects it suspiciously. "No poison. Promise."

A smile creeps it's way across his face as he gulps it down. He takes a moment at the end to lick the sugar clean from the rim, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. It's far more sexual than you think it should be, and it was never your intent to get this response.

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." You pass him the towel and take the glass.

Nathan scrubs the towel over his face and rests it around his neck. "I'm going for a hike later."

"Okay?"

"You're going with me." He turns back to the punching bag and starts his routine back up. "Be ready at nine."

You sigh. "Alright."

_____________________

Nathan's idea of a hike and your idea of a hike vary greatly. You view a hike as wandering around the forest along trails and seeing the beauty of nature before you. Leisurely pace, breaks, maybe a snack or two and some photos for the memories. Nathan however thinks hikes are treacherous climbs up cliffs and rock jumping across rivers and streams. He goes as quick as possible as if he's trying to get somewhere and he's going to be late. It's hardly relaxing.

"Come on, why are you so slow?" Nathan barks from atop a rock some several yards ahead of you.

You're panting, legs pushed to their limit from the half an hour long uphill climb you've just endured. You have no idea how he isn't even winded.

"Fuck off Nathan!" You huff, grabbing a scrubby looking tree for support as you haul yourself up over a broken chunk of the path. A game trail, not even a proper walking path.

He laughs, his voice echoing off the cliffs surrounding you. "You can do it, Kitten! Get that little ass up here!"

You finally reach him, your lungs threatening to explode. "First of all, this isn't a hike it's a rock climbing marathon." You hold a finger up to his face threateningly. "And second, my ass isn't little."

"Oh I know." He folds his arms over his chest.

"So you stare at my ass a lot then?"

"I'm a heterosexual man. Of course I'm going to look at your ass."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks for the objectification."

"You're welcome."

"Can we take a break here? My legs are killing me."

Nathan stretches his arms up and back. "This is why I brought you with me."

"Why?"

"So you can get some exercise. Your stamina is shit."

You glance to the drop off below then back at him. "You wanna keep insulting me?"

"Facts are not insults."

"I will push you off this cliff, Nathan."

He steps away from the edge and closer to you. He doesn't say anything about it. Doesn't apologize for the comments about your stamina and needing to work out more. He reaches for your face, plucking something off of your cheek. "Eyelash."

"Make a wish."

"Wishes are for children." He flicks his finger off to the side.

"I wish my boss would get his head out of his ass." You smirk triumphantly. "Is that a child's wish?"

Nathan flicks his eyes up and down your face, eyes settling on the bite bruise peaking out from under your sweatshirt collar. You had forgotten about it until this very moment, when you realize he hadn't seen it yet. "Is that mine?"

"Of course. Who else has been biting me out here in the middle of nowhere?" You reach up to touch it and he shoves your hand away to pull the fabric aside for himself.

"No one else can touch you."

Heat blossoms in your stomach at his jealousy tinged words. Possessive Nathan really does it for you. But he isn't your boyfriend. He is your boss. "I'm not yours Nathan."

His fingertips ghost over the nearly healed bruise. "Yes you are."

"I'm not."

"Then why don't you leave?"

You shove his hand off your shoulder and he gives you one of his famed deadly glares for doing something he doesn't like. "You don't want me. So I can't be yours."

"It's not that I don't want you, I can't have you." He turns and starts walking away, resuming the hike. How very like him. He says something stupidly cryptic that only makes sense to him. Whatever. You're not here for his affection and approval. You're here to be his assistant.

____________________

"I'm out of alcohol." Nathan states plainly, looking into the cupboard that usually has a few bottles of his favorite liquors. "Where is my shit?"

You look over from the fridge and smirk to yourself. "I thought you were on a detox again."

"I'm done with it. Where..." He turns and looks at you. "You didn't buy anything."

"Nope. I was told not to."

"By who?"

"You."

He purses his lips and looks around as if thinking about when he would have ever said that to you. He looks perplexed and you feel so smug. "Since when do you ever listen to me?"

You laugh softly. This is your fault now? Following his orders and not buying alcohol? Really.

"You're my boss. I usually follow your orders."

Nathan kicks the cupboard closed lightly. "Stop that."

"Stop what? Following your instructions?"

"Stop fucking with my head." He leans on the counter and takes his glasses off to dig his palms into his eyes. "You're so fucking irritating."

"Sure am." You gather some utensils from the counter that you left to dry and begin to put them away. "I live to make you suffer."

Nathan pulls his hands from his eyes and stares at you, eyebrows furrowed. It's like you're a puzzle and he's trying to see the solution. "Sometimes I wonder."

"You're being a baby."

"Excuse me?"

You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips, mimicking his pose when he explains things to you. He doesn't fail to notice this as his eyes sweep over you in assessment and he raises his head as if challenging you. "You're only saying I'm irritating and making you suffer because you can't drink. It's been what? A week?"

"Eight days."

"A week. I'm sure you can make it another two weeks."

"You're fucking joking."

"Nope. I'm not going into town for groceries again until absolutely necessary. It's a three hour flight there and then back, remember?"

Nathan clenches the edge of the counter top with white knuckles.

"Get as pissed as you want." You lean in close and he nearly moves back. You know he won't back down from a challenge. "Maybe you'll have to face your demons sober. Maybe you'll figure your shit out."

"I didn't hire you to be my fucking therapist."

"Yet here I am."

Nathan pushes off the counter and grabs the bottle of water you set out for him before he goes off to lock himself in his lab for God knows how long. Ever since you came on to him he seems to be jumpy around you. You don't know why he won't just admit that he likes you, that he wants you. He is going to get blue balls sooner or later. Well, maybe not because he can jack off but actual sex isn't the same and you know he has a sex drive through the roof. You used to hear it at all hours of the morning before he deactivated Kyoko. You'd be lying if you said you didn't get off on it a few times.

_____________________

Days and days pass without a word from Nathan. Ten is now the most you've ever gone and after five you start to wonder if he is even in the house. Maybe he went for a walk and fell in the river. Maybe he pissed off his AI again and it finally strangled him. You would have no idea because the place is so huge and quiet for the most part. Aside from living quarters the complex is soundproofed. One would think Nathan's room beside yours would be for privacy but it's not. The freak. He wants people to hear him.

At the twelfth day mark you actually begin to worry. A twenty day sober Nathan may be a new kind of animal and you're not sure if you truly want to interact. Distance makes the heart grow fond though and while he is insufferable you do care for him and wish to see his stupid smug face. It's a risk but one you need to take.

The light on the lab door is red. Locked. You raise your key card and it buzzes, remaining red. He's denied your access to the lab. Shocker. You press the com button on the wall but it doesn't connect. He's shut that off too.

You lean your head on the cool cement wall and sigh. One more day. You'll give it one more day. If he doesn't show his face you'll get the override key card that resides in the hidden box in the bathroom. You found it ages ago, by pure accident. You've never used it and he has no idea that you even know about it. But you'll do what you have to do.

______________________

Morning of the next day you find yourself in bed, looking around the soft cream colored walls. An idea comes to mind. A dirty, dirty idea. You know Nathan has cameras in every room. He's too anal about protectng his work not to. Plus he has major trust issues.

You lean over the side of the bed and pull open the nightstand drawer. Inside is a small vibrator that you brought with you when you moved in. There's another box in there too. One that was there when you opened the drawer the first night. On the top it says "For your needs, because you're only human."

Of course you opened the box out of curiosity, Nathan had said everything in the room was for you so it wasn't snooping. In the box was a dildo, some lube and a little bullet vibrator. You had never used them, finding the gift too personal and odd. Complimentary soap? Normal. Complimentary extra blankets and pillows? Thoughtful. Complimentary sex toys? Insane. Until you got to know Nathan, you thought it was the weirdest thing ever. In fact, you forgot about the box after a while as you hadn't had the urge to get off until recently. Today however, you're going to make a show of it in hopes of getting his attention.

You dump the contents of the box on the bed and pick up the dildo, wrapping your fingers around it. It's life like, fleshy and soft but firm enough for it's intended use. It's bigger than you might usually prefer but nothing you can't handle with some extra time. And you've got nothing but time. You take a glance around the room, not seeing any obvious surveillance cameras. This may be for nothing.

You make quick work of your pajamas, toss aside the blankets and prop yourself against the headboard. You decide to keep your gaze fixed on the television, imagining it's where he is watching from. You close your eyes and let your hands start to wander, doing thier thing while your mind runs wild.

Time passes slowly as you work yourself over, adjusting to the dildo and working yourself into a heated frenzy. It would be easier if you had something to watch, some porn or something. You're not intent on making yourself come, but you will if it comes to that. You just want to put on a show to draw him out. That's what you're telling yourself anyway.

The power goes out, darkening the room and thrusting you into silence. The back up system announces its engagement and the emergency lights come up red. You sit up and lean your head back against the headboard. Great. You toss the toys aside and get up, pulling on your pajamas. You go to the door, punch in the code for manual override during power failure. Nathan is such a nerd. It's not a specific number but rather the theme to Star Wars.

The door clicks open and you go out into the hall. No one in sight, not that you really expected anyone. "Nathan!" You call out, heading for the lab door. Everything is eerie red and you don't like it. "Power is out!"

No response.

"Nathan James Bateman!" You sing song as you slide your card on the lab door. It buzzes. "I know you hear me you fuck!"

"Power restored. All systems active."

The hall turns white, back to the bright daylight simulated lighting. You lift your key card up in hopes that the system turned off his lock out coding for your card. Sure enough it turns blue and the door clicks open. Relief washes over you as you step into the darkened office where his computer is set up, notes on the wall, security feeds pulled up on two of the monitors. The door to the actual lab is open and you walk through into the bright area.

"Nate?" You call out, the nickname slipping out as your voice wavers a bit when you don't see him anywhere.

"Kitten?"

You spin around and see the man you seek emerge from a doorway. It's the server closet where the breaker box is. "Hey."

"How'd you get in here?"

"The power failure reset the lock codes."

"You can leave."

"Nathan, you haven't been out in almost two weeks. I'm starting to get worried. What are you eating? Are you sleeping?"

"I'm fine."

You give him a once over. Wrinkled clothes. Disheveled beard. Hair grown out longer than you remember, still buzzed but not so close. His skin is dull and lifeless. "You look like shit."

"What's new?"

"Oh come on. You're more vain than that. What are you doing in here anyway? Why the power failure?"

"Fuck off."

"What an original come back. I've been trying to get your attention for days. The fact that it took a power outage for me to get to you is sad." You walk up to him and touch his chest, there is a little bit of dried blood smeared on his shirt. A cut on his hand most likely. "Nathan, talk to me."

Nathan pushes away from you and goes to his design table where there are blueprints laid out for an AI.

"Nathan."

"Leave." There is no venom in his tone. If anything he sounds pleading.

You decide to make a bold move and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He stiffens, hands stilling on the table, pen falling from his fingers. "Please talk to me."

"Just go. I don't want to talk to you."

"Fine. Dinner is at six." You pause at the doorway to the office area. "Did you hear me?"

"Six."

"Good."

_____________________

Things fall back into a normal rhythm in the days following. You do your work and he does his. You eat together, go for walks, talk about his progress on the new AI. Everything seems to be back to it’s usual flow, how it always happened after big arguments or falling outs.

So while you’re sitting in the lab watching him work one day and he asks you about the dildo in the bedside table you're thrown for a loop. It’s far from his usual choice of topics and you had actually forgotten all about it. His mentioning of it brings back the memory of when you were laid out on your bed, literally masturbating to try and get his attention. Christ what a desperate move that was. Stupid.

"So have you opened it?"

"The dildo box? Yeah I've opened it." You try to remain casual as you discuss something so personal. You definitely aren’t thinking about how good it felt.

He smirks. "Used it?"

"No." A bold lie. He has no idea. He never saw you in your bedroom. At least you don't think he did. Why would he ask about it if he had? Why is he asking about it at all?

“You’re a shitty liar.” He turns around in his chair and faces you, pushing his glasses up off the end of his nose. “Did you like it?”

“I haven’t used it.”

“Do you want me to bring up the video? I will.” He stands and heads to the office. “Come on, come here.”

You slide off the table and walk behind him in your shame, cheeks hot. You knew you shouldn’t have lied. Of course he was testing you. It's Nathan for fucks sake. He gestures to his rolling chair and you take a seat while he leans over the desk and clicks around on files on the desktop. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yeah. It is.” He opens a play back window and you can see the view of your room. No surprise. You try to figure out where the hell this camera is based on the angle. It seems to be the top left corner above your closet but as far as you remember there is nothing there. “Oh, there you are.”

“Nathan.”

“No, no watch.” He points to the screen as you toss and turn on the bed. He speeds up the playback as you get into the drawer and get the box out. You deliberately clear the bed, undress, get back on the bed.

You roll your eyes, looking away from the screen and he places a hand on your head and turns it back to watch. “So? I’m masturbating. Whatever. You do it too. If I wasn’t supposed to use the damn thing why did you leave it for me?”

“Oh I don’t care that you used it.” He clicks a little audio icon beside the playback screen. “I just want to know why you lied about it.”

“I am embarrassed? I don't make a habit of talking about my-”

“Nathan.” Your voice plays back on the audio coming from the video playback and you wish you could sink into the floor and disappear. “Nathan, harder please!” Of course he has audio on the fucking cameras. Of fucking course he does because why not right? It’s his house, his research facility.

Nathan looks at you over his glasses. “You’re embarrassed about talking about masturbating or you’re embarrassed that you think of me when you do it and I found out? Actually don’t answer that because this looks deliberate.” He takes a seat on the desk, blocking the view of the monitors. “Now, are you going to lie to me again, or tell me what this is about?”

“I wanted to get your attention.”

“Well you got it honey.” He clicks a button on the keyboard and it stops the playback.

“I wanted your attention to get you out of the fucking lab. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen you and the only way I can reach you from outside is through the cameras. So I thought, maybe there is one in my room because you’re a fucking control freak. Low and behold I was right, but it didn’t work how I planned it to.” You fold your arms over your chest and he chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“Me? How is any of this funny?”

“What kind of person thinks that masturbating on camera is going to get someone’s attention? No, seriously, why wouldn’t you try flash signalling the cameras in the halls? Set up a cue card with a message? Who says I’m gonna fuck myself for my bosses attention?”

You take in a deep breath and clench your jaw. He’s right, kind of. You hate it but he is. In any other situation you never would have done this. So why did you? Why did your brain go straight to exhibitionism? Because it’s Nathan and you’ve got it bad for him and you wanted him to see you. He’s got your brain just as fucked up as he has his own.

“It was wrong, I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Nope.” He kicks his legs hanging over the desk. “I wanna know if you liked that dildo.”

“It was fine I guess.”

“Not too much?”

“Nathan, why do you fucking care?”

He hops off the desk and shakes his head as he heads into the lab. “I’m curious is all!”

“You’re a freak!”

“And yet you still like me!”

“I’m starting to wonder why.” You push up out of the chair, close the playback on the computer and leave the office. You’re covering that stupid camera and throwing that dildo in the trash chute. You should have known he’d get some weird complex out of watching you say his fucking name while plowing yourself with a toy. In a weird way it turns you on, but it also pisses you off because he won’t actually admit that he liked it. He won’t ever admit anything.

_____________________

“Can I ask you something?” You say to Nathan as he sits beside you on the couch. You’re in the lounge together, dinner long over, watching a movie as you wind down for the evening. He’s got his arm around the back of the cushions and your legs are pulled up under you, feet pressed against his thigh. You’re close, but not too close.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“Don’t be a dick for ten minutes please.”

Nathan holds his hand up in defense. “Ten minutes. Shoot.”

“Promise you won’t be a dick? For real?”

“Yes. Ask me the damn question.”

You take a deep breath, knowing what you’re about to ask is going to be rough on him. “When we were on our hikes a few weeks ago, you said it wasn’t that you don’t want me, it’s that you can’t have me. What does that mean?”

Nathan stares ahead at the movie on the tv over the fireplace. A moment passes, a moment that is too long and makes the room fill with awkward tension. You expected this.

“Gonna stay quiet for the ten minutes you aren’t going to be a dick?”

“Shut up.” He says softly, no venom in the words.

You stare at him expectantly, awaiting a better answer than just shut up. “Seriously, would you just-”

Nathan’s arm comes up from the back on the couch and his hand catches the back of your head, dragging you closer to him as he presses a kiss to your lips. Your blood boils in the best way and you chase his lips as he pulls away. “That’s all it takes to shut you up?”

“Answer my question. Ten minutes aren’t up.”

“I can’t have you because you’re going to leave. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day you’re going to leave.”

“I’m not leaving Nathan.”

He scoffs. “So if I stopped paying you to be my assistant, you would stay?”

“Yes.”

"You're fucked up." He shakes his head. "You're fucked up and it's my fault."

You stare at him at a loss for words. Did he just admit fault for something? Are you hearing this correctly? Is Nathan Bateman, tech genius and egotistical maniac admitting he has done something? Holy shit.

"I did this to you. I made you stay here and endure my mood swings and drinking and all my shit. I stockholm syndrome'd you and I didn't even realize it." He leans his head back and closes his eyes. "You don't deserve this."

"Nathan, you didn't make me stay here. I chose to stay."

"Where the fuck were you going to go? Run off into the woods for days and days until you hope to find someone? What option did you have? I trapped you here. I've kept you caged in this house like an animal."

You lay your hand over his and he grabs it, threading your fingers together. "You don't think someone could actually love you, do you?"

"What?"

"You don't think someone could fall in love with you because you're insecure. You push people away, you push me away because you think it's easier than letting yourself feel something for someone."

Nathan looks pissed but he holds his tongue.

"I'm not trapped here, you aren't twisting my arm and making me stay here against my will. I know what I signed up for, I know what I signed in those contracts. I could have told you to fuck off and shove your head up your ass months ago and taken a helicopter back into the city. I could have just run away on any one of my dozen grocery runs in the last several months. But did I?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

"I don't fucking know."

You lay the hand not held in his, on to his cheek and turn his face to make him look at you. "Because I love you, Nathan."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. You're a real son of a bitch sometimes and I want to break your nose and choke you to death every once in a while but I care. I care about you, about your work, about your life. I want to be here, I want to be a part of your life Nathan. You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."

Nathan gets up and you hold your joined hands tightly.

"Don't run away damn it!"

"I'm not! Would you let go!"

"I swear to fucking God if you lock yourself in that lab again I am going to get a battering ram."

He takes his glasses off and presses them into your palm. "Take these as collateral. I'll be right back."

You sit back on the couch and glare at his form as it disappears into the house. You clean his glasses carefully with the edge of your shirt and set them on the coffee table. He has to come back for them, he's as blind as a bat without them.

Nathan returns shortly with a small box. "I made these." He hands you the box and you open it as he puts his glasses back on. Inside are two black bands, rings.

"I don't understand."

"I made them because I know I can be difficult." He plucks one from the box. "They track the wearers vitals, change colors based on varying indicators, and they will work no matter how far apart they are."

"You made high tech mood rings."

He shoots you a glare. "I made them for you." He places the ring in his hand into your palm. "So you will know that I'm alright when I'm working long hours. I know I'm not the easiest to read and I don't have the easiest time expressing myself sometimes."

You put the ring on and it lights up a soft pink color. The moment Nathan slips his over his finger you can feel a soft steady pulse coming from the ring. "Is that your heartbeat?"

"Yeah." He holds his hand out and you can see his band is the same color pink. "I'll give you a breakdown on all the colors and functions later, but pink means the body is at ease."

"Do you love me? Just tell me, straight up no games."

"Yeah." He cups your cheek and brings you in for a kiss. "I love the shit out of you."

You break away from his kiss and press your foreheads together. "Can I ask just one more question?"

"Fire away."

"Is the dildo a mold of your dick?"

A smile spreads across his face and you already know the answer before he says it. "It is."

"You're a freak."

"And you absolutely love it."

You smile as he presses his lips to yours and pulls you over into his lap. "I guess I do."

The end

Please reblog if you read or like. Thank yo so much for reading! -A

Header by the lovey talented delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[plaidbooks]

SFW Alphabet - Rafael Barba

I’ve been meaning to do this for forever--it was bugging me having the rest down and not Raf’s (I still need to do Mike’s at some point, too whoops).

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy​ @infiniteoddball​ @ben-c-group-therapy​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @shroomiehomie​ @glimmerglittergirl​ @alwaysachorusgirl​ @dianilaws​ @averyhotchner​ @mrsrafaelbarba​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @detective-giggles​ @dreamlover31​ @prurientpuddlejumper​ @madamsnape921​ @joanofarkansass​

(gif by @minidodds)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Rafael shows his affection in a different way than most. He’s slow and unsteady while trying to open up to you. He needs your help (and patience) to let more of his affectionate side out. He’s definitely a gift giver, showering you with expensive gifts, or a fancy dinner, or a high-class show. But the more he gets used to you, the more he’ll switch from gift giver to physical touch. Cuddling with you, rubbing your calves or shoulders, playing with your hair.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

It started at work, whether you’re a paralegal, lawyer, or detective. You had a particularly snarky response to Rita, leaving her speechless (for once), and Rafael was quick to find out if that was a fluke or if you were that quick-witted. As much as Rafael seems like an egotistical jerk, he’s actually a very good friend. He’s the one you can vent to, or go get a nightcap with, no matter what time it is. He also has amazing advice for almost all situations.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

At first, you have to initiate it. Rafael does love it, but he’s afraid of looking too soft. Once he realizes you’re not running from him, then he’s incredibly touchy, wanting to hold you or be held by you at all times. He’s a big fan of laying on the couch, with you laying on top of him, your body weight comforting.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Rafael wants to settle down, but he needs to be absolutely sure that you’re not going to leave him. He’s afraid of his heart being broken again. But, once you’re in, he’s in, too. He’s been used to cooking for himself for a long time, so he begrudgingly likes it. That is, until he sees how you light up at eating his food; then he likes it more. He hates cleaning—his motto is if nothing is dirty, he doesn’t have to clean. He’s very much a “clean up after yourself” person, his loft immaculate. You don’t mind doing dishes, since he cooks, and you normally do the laundry, but only because Rafael barely has dirty laundry. And if he does, it goes to dry cleaning—except for the odd polo shirt or sweats.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In person. Rafael has a tight-lipped grimace, upset that it didn’t work out. He’ll stay strong, but you can tell that this hurts him as much—if not more—than it hurts you. He’ll also go to your place to do it, so that if you cry, you’re not out in public, nor do you have to travel home.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It takes Rafael a while to get married. He moves much slower in a relationship, afraid that if he goes too fast, you’ll be close enough to hurt him. But, once you get past his walls, he’s pretty quick to do the other things, such as moving in together and planning a future.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

At first, Rafael’s not gentle. He doesn’t go out of his way to hurt you or anything, but his sarcasm and arrogance has been a defense mechanism for so long, it’s hard to abandon it. Plus, his public self is what he thinks people want from him, so he hides behind that façade. But again, once you can get him to lower those walls, then you’ll find a hurt, emotional man. That’s when he’s most gentle; when he’s vulnerable.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Shockingly, Rafael is a big hugger! Since he’s too afraid to cuddle too quickly, he makes it up with hugs. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, tugging you against his chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His solid body is comforting, especially with that citrusy cologne he wears.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes Rafael a long, long, long time for him to admit he loves you, even to himself. You can say it, and he’ll get choked up, hugging you close and kissing your cheek. He mutters something, and you assure him that he doesn’t have to say it back if he doesn’t want to; you understand. But he shows you that he loves you in every little thing he does. He may also write it down on a sticky note—left on the mirror when he goes in early—before he says it out loud.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Rafael gets very jealous, but it quickly changes to insecurity. What do they have that he doesn’t? Then he’ll start listing his faults in his mind, and it makes him even more sad. If he gets you back before the insecurity happens—while he’s still jealous—then he’s pushing you against the wall and reminding you who you belong to. If you come back to him when his insecurity is running wild, then you need to remind him that you love him, and only him.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Rafael’s kisses are soft, tender, and somewhat desperate…as if you’re going to pull away from him at any moment. (I wrote a HC about his kisses here). He likes to kiss your forehead; he feels it’s more intimate. But also your spine; he loves the feeling of you moving against his mouth. He loves when you kiss his tum—he’s a little insecure about that section of his body, so when you kiss him there? He melts.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Babies…not great. Rafael has no paternal instincts at all and he doesn’t know how to interact with them. But once they start talking, and understanding what he’s saying, he’s better. He’s the type of guy that talks to children as if they’re people, treating them with respect. And he loves to teach them things (especially things that will shock adults).

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Usually, you don’t spend mornings together. Rafael is a “sleep as much as possible, shower, work” person. He’ll kiss your shoulder before rolling out of bed, and he’ll have coffee ready for you for when you get up. Though, if it’s a day off, then Rafael stays in bed with you, cuddling, kissing, and whispering sweet words.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You both take nights to catch up with each other’s days. One (or both) of you will massage the other’s neck, since that’s where all the stress builds up. And then it’s cuddles o’clock, both of you wrapped around each other as you eat dinner and relax.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Rafael holds his cards close to the chest. But, by doing that, you start to learn about him indirectly. You notice that he only ever talks about his mother, and never mentions his father. You notice that he’ll apologize for something that wasn’t his fault. You notice that he tries a little too hard. You never mention these things to him, but you tuck it away, and are patient with him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Rafael is easily annoyed but not easily angered. He’s very much a logic > emotions person, and will try and tackle any argument head on, using logic and facts. The things that get him angry, though, are usually work related. He may snap at you after a particularly rough day, but you know he doesn’t mean it.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Contrary to popular belief, Rafael’s mind is a steel trap (in Twenty-Five Acts, the belt thing was mentioned once in passing, and Rafael quickly moved on to something else without even acknowledging it). His downfall is remembering what day it is. He may know your birthday is June 3rd, but when he looks at the calendar and sees it’s June 2nd, he panics and calls in favors to make sure he has a reservation at a fancy restaurant.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When he took you to a Broadway show. He had his arm wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you watched—a show he’d seen a thousand times, but loved. But, when he heard you quietly singing to yourself, his heart melted. He had no idea you knew the songs, and afterwards, you both walked down the street, singing the songs together. Rafael only ever sang to his mami and abuelita…and now you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Rafael goes above and beyond for dates and anniversaries. They’re few and far in between, and it’s to make up for ignoring you during the work week (not that you see it as him ignoring you; he’s just busy. But he thinks the worst). Every day tasks aren’t super over-the-top like dates, but he enjoys your company; you calm him after the stress of his work.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Rafael’s list of importance goes; 1) work, 2) family, 3) you. He’ll always choose work over you (unless you’re in the hospital or something, but then he uses work to get the bastard who put you there). And he’ll always choose his mami over you, as well. This has never been a problem (except for maybe some missed date nights), but the quicker you can accept that, the better.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Rafael is a fashionista at heart. This poor boy growing up in the Bronx, and now shining as a Harvard grad, has an appearance to maintain. He never felt like he “belonged” with the elites he often sees at parties and galas, but the longer he can fool them, the better.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

At first, he doesn’t need you. He’s too afraid to give you so much of himself, and he’s afraid to let you in. But once you make your way into his heart, he finds himself depending on you more and more, whether as just someone whose arms he can collapse into, or someone who will listen to him rant.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

One of Rafael’s favorite things is at night, when you’re in the kitchen (whether doing dishes or getting a drink), he’ll wrap his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder, then sways with you. He kisses your neck and chin, making you giggle and melt further back into him. He’ll keep it up until you stop what you’re doing and turn in his arms, giving him a kiss and dancing with him.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Rafael doesn’t like clingy. He wants someone independent, as he is. He works a lot, and won’t always be there, so he wants someone who has their own life outside of him. He also doesn’t like messy people—he’s a bit of a neat freak, and he’s not going to be cleaning up after you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Many nights, Rafael will work until he’s exhausted. He’ll go through his nightly routine before murmuring a “goodnight” and collapsing onto the bed. Though, nights like those, if you lay down close enough to him, he’ll eventually find you in his sleep and wrap around you.

[mimedking]

Bagginshield Modern AUs

They're all set in a modern time, that's for sure.

A Remover of Obstacles by MistakenMagic. Complete - E - 371k

"Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Alone is a word not meant for you by authoressjean. Complete- G- 5k This is the first fic I ever read in this fandom :)

The holidays are fast approaching, and Thorin's been dreading them, now that it's just him and his nephews. Harder still given that Fili still barely speaks and hasn't really since Dis died.

So when Kili drags them into the bookstore to look for children's literature author Mr. Baggins' new book, and they find the author himself reading his latest, Thorin isn't expecting anything beyond maybe making his nephews a little happier. He certainly isn't expecting to find something for himself but he may have done just that.

By Request by HildyJ. Complete - G - 2.2k

As a musician, Thorin's life can be summed up in tempos. For instance, the concerto he's performing on Friday is Allegro - quick and bright, followed by Andantino - slightly slow, and then back to Allegro again.

On the other hand, his relationship with his cute neighbour? Larghissimo - very, very slow.

Fairy Nests by MilkTeaMiku. Complete - NR - 27k

Bilbo is a fairy. Thorin builds fairy houses.

Flowers and Flaws by Erinye. Complete - G - 58k

There are few things Thorin feels about as deeply as he does about flowers - his nephews’ education, the conservation of Derbyshire dales, Sunday’s lunch with Dís and the boys. Until one day a stranger with flowers tattooed all over his arms shows up at the shop and Thorin would rather like to indulge in the meaning of every single blossom inked on the stranger’s skin. But the stranger may not be a stranger after all and though he has flowers on his wrists, he may not wear his heart on his sleeve.

Bilbo Baggins is at a turning point. Call it mid-life crisis, call it responsibility, call it teaching Geography to kids in the bloody middle of Derbyshire. Of one thing Bilbo is certain: disgruntled-yet-rather-endearing florists are not what he needs in his life right now. Definitely.

Good Things by orphan_account. Complete - M - 12k

A car accident leaves a once proud and egotistical Thorin scarred and partially blind, and he locks himself away from the outside world, certain that he deserves a life devoid of human interaction.

It Started With A Cup Of Tea by alkjira. Complete - G - 9k

“It'll be very good for you, and most amusing for me."

Those were the words that heralded Bilbo Baggins’ transformation into a cat.

Plan B by Drenagon. Complete - G - 85k

Plan B: an alternative strategy; a contingency plan, devised for an outcome other than the expected plan.

Or, sending an unqualified temp to act as Thorin Oakenshield's PA because no one qualified can put up with him.

(He'd say they can't meet his standards. Of course he would.)

Meet Bilbo Baggins. He just became Plan B.

Share My Space by thesoundofnat. Complete - G - 4.7k

Bilbo is on a business trip and is staying at his old friend Balin’s place while he’s in town. What Balin forgot to mention was that his very attractive cousin Thorin was visiting as well with his nephews. What happens when Balin’s brother suddenly shows up and Bilbo is forced to share a room with Thorin?

The Ghost And Mr Baggins by perkynurples. Complete - G - 76k

They say that everything can be cured by saltwater - sweat, tears or the sea. Bilbo Baggins chooses the last option, taking his recently orphaned nephew and moving to the charming Oak Cottage, overlooking England’s grislier shores. The house charms him instantly, and though he knows nothing at all about the sea, or about making ends meet on his own so far from everything he’s known his whole life for that matter, he’s quite determined to stay, and see his nephew get better, odd sounds in the night be damned. He’s living in a modern world, after all, and the nonsense he’s been hearing about the house being haunted by its former owner, the mysterious Captain Durin, is just silly superstition… isn’t it?

The Grocer and The Prince by HildyJ. Complete - G - 9k

Sometimes separate worlds touch briefly, allowing travel from one place to another. But no matter the world, Bilbo and Thorin seem to always find each other.

Winter Wish by Jezunya. Complete - G - 1.4k

Frodo climbs up onto the stepstool, Bilbo’s hand on his back to steady him, and grasps the edge of the table in his little hands, carefully following the two DJs’ instructions of not too close and speak slowly and clearly and you’re doing great, kid, and then, when they nod and tell him to start, he says, right into the microphone:

“My Winter Wish is for my uncle to get a boyfriend.”

[carolmaximoffs]

crisp trepidation

summary: spreading you open is the only way of knowing you. 

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: oral (f receiving), angst, unprotected sex, potentially crude language but i just have mixed feelings about the c word, cussing, bucky barnes has a high heel kink, no proofreading

a/n: it’s 4 am, i’m sad and have fine line (the song) on repeat. sue me.

You don’t remember when it started. After a mission, maybe. Both of you worn and world-weary, collapsing into a motel bed by accident, or maybe by fate. Though fate is, by nature, cruel and unfair. It’s maybe once a month, twice, thrice if the pair of you are particularly lonely. Nothing more. Never spoken about. If you fall asleep, you wake up alone. Usually, somebody’s slipping out as soon as the lights come back on.

It’s been a century but Bucky still knows his way around a woman, better than anybody else you’ve been with. Somewhere between his tongue in your mouth and deep in your cunt, you find euphoria. It’s a small price to pay for the loneliness; after that first night, following a bitter take down in Madrid when he wraps your bloody knuckles and kissed your wrists, no one compares. And you’ve tried. Lord knows you’ve tried. 

Michael, from Paris, who was bored with the idea of kissing your thighs. You reentered you and Bucky’s shared hotel room an hour after you’d left for the club. Leo, from El Salvador, who didn’t make it beyond a back alley make-out session, by no fault of his own. Wesley, from Brooklyn, and God if that drawl didn’t almost make you forget. But you couldn’t. He was like muscle memory, or one of those tattoos you can only see under UV light. Always in the back of your mind, no matter how hard you tried to will him away.

It’s after a particularly exhausting mission - Sam and Wanda hole up in one room, you and Bucky the other. You’d been posing as couples, after all, it was only fitting. Your hair is falling from its’ elaborate up-do as you slouch onto the bed, Bucky closing the door softly. You unstrap your thigh holster, first and foremost, ditching the folding knives tucked into either side of your dress. You’re about to take off your heels - Ancient Grecian, you’d joked, strappy and winding up your calf. He stops you with a hand on your arm, cool fingers wrapping around your bicep and tugging your hand away. He kneels, and that’ll never fail to steal the air from your lungs; James Buchanan, American hero, man out of time, trained assassin, on his knees - for you. 

“Bucky,” You breathe when he’s pushing one hand beneath your dress and the other brushes up to the top of the thigh slit. He must mistake it for a gasp of pleasure as his lips connect over and over with every inch of skin expose. “James.”

He doesn’t pull away, only raises his brows expectantly. You gulp as he grows nearer to where you love need him most, threading your fingers to his newly-cropped hair. “Shouldn’t we-ah-we need to talk about this.”

“I don’t see what there is to talk about,” He grunts, hooking his fingers in your panties. He draws them down your legs tantalizingly slow, careful to avoid your shoes. You frown, finally pushing him away, against the throbbing of your expectant core.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Barnes.” Your frown deepens as he stands, shedding his suit jacket and shrugging as he slips his fingers into his bow tie.

“Not playin’ stupid, darlin’,” Bucky drawls, obviously growing impatient. He slinks up the bed to where you’ve slid back against the pillows, caging you in. He noses at your neck, teasing tongue darting out to lick at the pearls lacing your throat. “Really don’t see why we’ve gotta discuss it...’specially now.”

“Because,” You groan, shoving at his chest. He doesn’t budge. His sly hands are back beneath your dress again; you don’t have the energy to fight it. It’s not like you don’t want it.  “What the hell are we doing, Buck?”

“Playing text-message Darts,” He deadpans in your ear, fingers dipping dangerously close to your clit. “Fuck do you mean, what’re we doin’, doll?”

“I just...what’s it mean, Buck?” You manage to get a grip on the back of his head, shove his face away from your neck so you can search his eyes. Bucky’s unreadable, like always, poker face impeccable with his fingers still prodding at your already-weeping hole. “Does it...does what we do mean anything to you?”

“Well,” He says, like he’s thinking, or maybe like he’s mocking you. He’s sliding two thick, flesh fingers into you; admittedly, you’re struggling to focus. “Not sleepin’ with anybody else, am I?”

You don’t know how to answer - don’t know if you can answer, to be fair. He scissors and twists his fingers expertly - only a couple weeks apart, but maybe he knows you’ve not been with anybody, either, knows to stretch you out. Not because he’s egotistic; just self aware. Considerate. He hooks his fingers, then, and you whine, hips jerking. Bucky braces his vibranium arm over your waist, dark metal evident through his white dress shirt. 

“I...I wouldn’t know,” You whimper eventually. He straightens, withdrawing what’s become three fingers to straighten up on his knees. Bucky gives you a ‘c’mon, seriously?’ look as he quickly but carefully unbuttons his shirt. A sharp exhale has his nostrils flaring, like he’s holding back a laugh, 

“You know me better than that, sweetheart,” He grits out as he palms himself before popping the button on his dark slacks. “Gotta know me better than that by now.”

He lines himself up, spitting into his hand in that filthy, old fashioned way of his to slick himself up. Bucky settles a forearm on either side of your head, gaze trained on where your bodies are millimetres from becoming one, but he looks up suddenly. It’s his turn to search your eyes, a little desperate. “Have...have you been with anybody else?”

“No,” You sigh, and no sooner has it left your lips is he unceremoniously shoving himself deep within you. Your breath catches in your throat, back arching as he rolls his hips and connects with that spongy little spot that reads ‘heaven’ deep within you. The slow drag of his cock is taunting as he pulls out til just the tip is pressing you open. He nips at your ear.

“Good,” He all but snarls. Bucky slams his hips back  against yours. One arm disappears behind him to grip tightly at your thigh, dragging your leg up. Instinctively you make to hook it about his waist, but he has other plans. His hand trails up to your calf, placing it over his shoulder. You yelp. The angle is new, with him, though not unwelcome. Your other leg mirrors it’s twin quickly as he hastens his hips, relentless in this little follow up mission: bringing you pleasure. “So fuckin’ good.”

He leaves wet kisses on your jawline as he grips both of your legs, just below the knee. You thank your job for making you flexible as he shoves your thighs up against your torso. He makes his way back up to your ear once more, licking along the shell and causing goosebumps to prickle along your arms. “Think it’s ‘bout time I made you mine for real, huh?”

“Been yours,” You mumble as you feel the coil in your stomach twist as tight as it can get. Your fucked out brain is way behind your mouth, but you suppose it isn’t a total lie. Bucky chuckles in your ear. It’s strained, though - his hips stutter a little as well, and you know he’s close, too. 

“If you’re mine, then cum for me, honey,” He practically purrs. “Know you’re close. C’mon, baby, let me have it.”

Another deep thrust and you’re crying out. Bucky’s not far behind, his warmth lighting you up from the inside out. He releases your legs at long last, slumping against you. The pair of you laugh at the little ‘oomf’ you emit at his dead weight. You bite back a whine as he shifts just slightly, his cock still nestled within you. 

“You’re mine?” He ponders aloud after what feels like eons of silence. You push at his shoulders and he takes the hint, eyes never leaving you as he rolls off of you and onto his back. You sigh contentedly, plucking up the courage to roll into his side and lay your head on his chest, despite all the uncertainty still shrouding the two of you. ‘Cuz I’m yours, doll. Have been for longer than I’d like to admit.” 

You bury your smile beside his dog tags, poking him playfully in the stomach.

“Yeah, you geezer. I’m yours.” 

[caffeinated-cryptid]

you got an ego so big (it'll eat you alive).

roman-centric hurt/comfort (w/ remus, patton and virgil). 

11.7k words | AO3 link | warnings: self-hatred, semi-intentional self-destruction, various injuries, arguing, remus-typical jokes and topics.

“At the best of times, Roman’s job was a tightrope act between maintaining a healthy amount of self-confidence and the ability to adapt and take criticism. Throughout his life he walks this line many times, always with the expectation that if he were to fall one way or the other, no one would be there to catch him.

But sometimes when you’re up miles high, it can become difficult to see the safety net on the ground below you.

(aka an expansion on the premise that a bruised ego causes literal injuries and the issues this could cause when you're an insecure prince with a need to please and the weight of the world on your shoulders).”

------------------

To be overly aware of your own self is often associated with negative traits, such as narcissism, self-consciousness or a sensitivity to mistakes. Although to some with a proclivity towards the spotlight, it can become an inadvertent consequence of over-analyzing yourself in order to achieve those flawless performances. Naturally, gaining any sort of notoriety and attempting to retain that positive image means becoming intimately aware of your faults and staying open to change, taking criticism to heart all the while keeping relatably humble. On the other hand, it may also mean letting that same criticism become your one sole focus, tearing you down instead of becoming a rung in the ladder that's supposed to take you to higher places.

Roman often found that navigating these gray areas was a momentous task. To be proud of his work, but not be too unbearably egotistical to the point that it blinded him. To accept criticism but not allow the pursuit of perfection to destroy him.

His role was truly a balance; a thin tightrope he constantly had to traverse.

And on occasion, he would end up slipping.

------------------

I - bonds that tie us.

Roman first learned of his job as the ego when Thomas was young. With Remus at the helm of most of the subconscious and instinctual stuff as his id, perhaps he should've assumed that he would have a similar mirrored purpose beyond simply confidence, however it hadn't ever really come into play until one afternoon when the two of them were busy playing in The Imagination.

They had just concluded a close duel against each other and were putting their weapons away (cardboard ones, since Feelings didn't want them running around with real weapons once he found out they were using them to fight, and because Fear and Lies often fretted about them doing something stupid and getting hurt). Usually neither of them held the lead for long during their matches since they were so well-matched, but today Remus had won easily, which Roman chalked up to him feeling off ("Yeah right. Don't be such a sore loser." "It's true!"). Either way, Remus would be bragging about the victory until the next time they got the opportunity to duel, and that meant he was already rubbing it in as they prepared to leave.

On their way to the exit, Remus had taken the lead at some point and was throwing out ideas about they should do later when Roman unexpectedly paused and doubled over, clutching his head. Remus didn't notice that he'd stopped until he heard a groan and turned around.

"What's wrong? Didn't hit you too hard, did I?" He asked with a grin as if he assumed that Roman was still playing- perhaps trying to make up an excuse for his terrible loss.

"I- Dunno. My head hurts…" Roman cringed, eyes screwed shut.

Remus' smile faltered when he realized it might not be a joke and he walked back, peeling Romans hands away from his forehead. Underneath was a large red patch of irritated skin which looked set to bruise. His frown deepened because he definitely didn't cause that, nor did he witness any incidents during the day which would be the cause. "How'd that happen?

"Dunno!" He repeated, eyes going blank for a moment while he caught up with what was happening outside. The two of them were usually much too distracted when they were in The Imagination to pay attention to everything that transpired in the real world, especially on weekdays like this when Thomas would be in school and Creativity wasn't exactly needed during most classes. "...Thomas was told off for slacking in front of the entire class and he got some bad grades on his report card… He's feeling embarrassed, I think.

Remus was confused by how this was relevant until he pieced together that the two events were linked to what was happening to his brother. His eyes widened in realization before they settled into determination. "Then I'll fight him until he stops feeling bad."

That startled a laugh out of Roman, until his head started pounding and he cut himself off with a grimace. "...’Can't do that."

He laughed too, in hopes that it would lift Roman's spirits again. "Can too! I'll figure it out, then he'll be too busy worrying about his broken bones to care about what some dumb teacher said. Maybe then he'll get to skip school for a while and do something funner like-"

"Remus." Roman hissed over him, overcome with a sudden dizzy spell. His hand found Remus’ shoulder for purchase, which stopped his twin in his rant.

Remus stared at him in alarm. This seemed serious, and he didn't do too well with handling serious things. "Do... Do you want me to get Feelings? Or Learning? Or Lies?"

"No. None of them. I just wanna go home." He whined, leaning more and more against Remus for support.

' Home' in their case was what they called their shared room. It was where they always returned to at the end of a long day, and no matter what had happened, they could always feel their troubles wash away as they sat in their own little world once more. Roman longed for that feeling, to escape the too-bright sun of The Imagination which now felt like it was blinding him and just lay down for a while.

Remus nodded hesitantly, the plans he had spun of pulling a prank on Fear and Lies forgotten. Normally the two Creativities preferred to find the door of The Imagination manually (they claimed it made the experience more immersive when they were out on an adventure), but instead he reached towards the exit and the world twisted around them, ejecting them out together. They came out the other side back in their room, next to their bunk bed. Instead of climbing up to his bed on the top, Roman just about threw himself onto Remus' sheets. Somehow he managed to ignore the weird smell of the fabric that he always complained about, which spoke greatly about his current well-being.

Remus hovered behind him, unsure of what to do, when Roman let out another pained noise and curled up tighter. "What now?!"

"Thomas...parents.

Since that didn't really explain anything, Remus decided to check up on what was happening outside himself. Thomas' parents had asked to see his report card and they were giving him the 'not mad but disappointed talk', while Thomas was shrunk into himself in shame. Yikes, Learning mustn't be feeling too hot about this either. But right now his focus was on his brother, who the sight of in such a sorry state filled him with rage.

"Now I want to fight them too." Remus muttered darkly. "Take the knife from the kitchen that dad uses to cut up turkeys and make them stop talking forever. Then we won't have to deal with this again and you won't-"

Oh right, Roman was still injured. Focus, Remus. Concern. Right, he was concerned for his brother, who was hurting like he had never seen, even after their fights. What could he do about this? He was always so much better at destroying things than fixing them, so having to deal with a situation like this without any sort of guidance made him nervous.

"You can't hurt them." Roman protested weakly.

"Maybe if I want to enough I could!"

Remus walked around the bunk bed and settled down on the side Roman was facing towards. From this angle he could see new bruises spattered along his brother's arms. In a grotesque way, the different shades came together like a watercolour painting. Except instead of a canvas, they were on a body- Remus shook his head. Focus! He could draw sickly yellow and purple-inspired pictures later, when Roman would be in the mood to be more good-humored about it.

"You shouldn't, then. It's bad."

"...Alright then. What should I do Ro-bro?"

Roman cracked open one eye and looked at him. "Stay? Until Thomas feels better?"

Considering he was just grounded for the weekend, Remus wasn't sure how long it would take for this hit to Thomas' self esteem to blow over, but despite knowing this he nodded anyway.

"Okay."

He laid down next to Roman, not commenting when he hid his face against the covers and started sniffling, or when he eventually fell asleep, curled against his side like how they would sleep when they were newly-split. When Learning knocked in their door to tell them that dinner was ready, he made a weak excuse that they were busy and would eat later.

Without even asking he knew Roman would want this to be kept between them, despite how the others would undoubtedly fuss and nurse him back to health. And perhaps that was the reason why. His brother always wanted to appear infallible to the others and did so replicating the heroes from the stories they read, which often meant refusing to admit when he needed help and trying to do everything himself. If you asked Remus, he was trying way too hard to be like the Creativity that came before them, which was silly because they were different now and as they were, they needed each other.

Remus closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep too. This seemed like a big deal, so Roman's pride would have to pass eventually for him to seek help. Right?

------------------

II - even without dying you're dead to me.

In retrospect, Remus had underestimated Roman’s ability to keep a secret (maybe because he was so quick these days to run over to Feelings, now Morality, whenever Remus did something to upset him. Tattle-tale).

Now that they were older and their roles were more defined, their once shared-room had separated into two to adjust to this change. Even though it had been long enough that he should be used to the feeling of being alone, there were still times where Remus had to try to not let it bother him when he looked up at night, expecting to see the familiar underside of a top bunk and instead only finding the ceiling he had painted an underwater-themed mural on.

On nights like this, far too sentimental to enter a peaceful rest, they would go sleep in each other's rooms, saying nothing as they tried to pretend they were as close as they once were. Remus groaned into his pillow, fighting that annoying urge to seek comfort. He was a teenager now, he didn't want to be so attached at the hip to a side who had started looking at him with disgust and fear instead of the fondness they used to share. Sometimes he couldn't help it though, clinging to the days when everything felt simple and the biggest thing they had to worry about was finding time to create the things they enjoyed. At the very least he was glad that Roman didn't mock him for his occasional bouts of uncharacteristic sentiment; that would solidify for him that there were no remnants of the relationship they once had left.

With that depressing thought, he rolled out of bed. He couldn't sleep tonight so he was going to make that Roman's problem; that always cheered him up. Perhaps if he hadn't made such a disturbed face when Remus had talked about the brazen bull he had made earlier that day, he would feel a bit more sympathy for waking his brother up in the middle of the night. Buuut he didn't and he was feeling petty, so without a second thought he sunk out and into Romans room.

"WAKEY WAKEY~!" Remus clashed two cymbals together like one of those nightmare-inducing wind-up monkeys, only to belatedly realize the bed he was facing was empty.

He blinked, both in confusion and to adjust his eyes to the unexpected light of the room. Both of them may be night owls, but Roman would usually be asleep by 2am at least, and it was way past that hour. Looking around the room, his eyes latched onto the vanity where his brother was sitting, looking incredibly startled from the deafening crash of metal against metal.

"Get out!" He yelled once his shock faded into indignation, glaring at Remus.

Remus didn’t respond, staring at the medical supplies spread across the surface. Roman was in the middle of wrapping a compression bandage around his thigh, which he abandoned as soon as Remus had entered.

"Did you get something stuck in your ear again? I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight, Remus. Leave ."

"What happened?" He blurted out before he could even think about the question.

"Doesn't matter. In case you've forgotten, the door's right there. Feel free to use it at any point."

Instead of complying (because when had Remus ever done that for anyone? No no, it was always more exciting to do the opposite of what people ask and see what happens), he crossed the room, ignoring how Roman increasingly looked like he wanted to punch him the longer he lingered.

"Bitch, it obviously does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be looking like you got trampled by a cracked-out horse."

"Lovely imagery." Roman gritted out.

"Lovely avoidance." Remus retorted sarcastically. "Aren't you best friends with Morality and Logic now? Why aren't they here sucking your d-"

"If you don't go back to your own room I'll run you through with my sword." Roman warned with an air of finality.

Remus snorted.

It was hard to be intimidated by the same side who had once cried when he had accidentally smashed an imaginary caterpillar cocoon with his morning star. In his defense he had forgotten to make the handle weighted when he first made it, so he was still getting used to the uneven distribution of the weapon...not like that stopped Roman from getting upset with him. Supposedly he had spent the last week trying to raise butterflies and wanted to show them off to Logic after they had learned about chrysalis in class, but Remus found that somewhat laughable considering he could just create a fully-formed butterfly if he wanted to. So he did laugh, calling him dumb for getting upset over nothing, and through tears Roman pushed him to the ground and told him he hated him for the first time. (After that, he may have spent the next week killing any butterflies that crossed his path, but that was neither here nor there. The point of this tangent provided a lá Remus Sander's brain was was that Roman could be a big baby and therefore he couldn't take anything he said too seriously.)

"Sounds like a good time! Save that idea for later though, because if you don't tell me I'll summon them over here to ask them myself."

"Don't. They don't know about this, alright? For once in your life can you just let it go?"

Huh. Remus tilted his head. It had been years since they first found out about the fun little quirk Roman had, and he just...never told? He figured at the very least it would be a good way to milk even more attention from the others; something Creativity had been seeking more often after Fear turned into Anxiety during middle school and gained a much larger role in Thomas' life. "Why?"

Roman huffed in frustration. "They don't need to. I can handle it myself."

"...Wow! Careful not to summon Lies, because you're full of shit and you know it." Remus fired back. He didn't even know why he was getting so mad. Minutes ago he was cursing his brother's guts for how their relationship had soured, and now all of a sudden it was if all of that dislike had faded into the background for something else. Concern? He hadn't felt concern for anything in years. Roman always made it seem like he could take care of himself, so that's what Remus had believed at first too, though perhaps stumbling across this situation was evidence of the opposite. Reasonable self-care didn't exactly look like 'patching yourself up at 4 in the morning'. At least, that sounded like something Lies would say which probably meant it was accurate.

"Ugh- Shut up. I've been doing just fine so far, without you or them, so you can take your fake pity and shove it up your you-know-where."

Remus didn't rise to the opportunity to poke fun at that statement, his mind going blank (and what a strange and unusual feeling that was). The idea that anything could have been hidden from him seemed unthinkable given how they used to tell each other everything. He hadn't even considered that that habit had become one-sided, given how it had never stopped being true for him. "...Roman, what does that mean? Has this been happening a lot?"

"..."

"Why did you never tell me?! This isn't something you can just keep a secret! If you won't say anything I will-

Remus' mouth snapped shut as Roman ejected him from his room. He landed back on his own bed and when he scrambled onto his feet to tried to rise up again, he found that his efforts were blocked. Roman had kicked him out and locked the door behind him. He never did that, no matter how much they fought or annoyed each other. It was the one thing they did that showed they still cared.

Remus trembled with adrenaline and shock. Taking his pillow, he summoned a knife and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it until all of his pent up feelings were gone and there all that was left was the fluff covering his floor.

------------------

III - interlude.

As it turns out, he'd never get the opportunity to tell, because shortly after that, the newly appointed 'dark sides' were pushed away into their own corner of the mindscape after an explosive argument between the sides (during which Remus tried to ignore how closely Roman stood at Morality's side, sword brandished towards him. He didn't want to think his twin had a hand in their separation, even though it made so much sense).

When he argued about going back with Lies, now Deceit after being appointed the new leader of the unwanted and unloved, he was told through clenched teeth and pained eyes that he shouldn't. Not until Thomas was ready for him. For all of them.

------------------

IV - to the death of me, i'm just fulfillin' my destiny.

After that, Roman adjusted, and did so alone. Teenage years came with many challenges, ones he didn’t always escape unscathed. Despite the occasional rejection here, an unfortunate setback there, he felt as if he had grown a thicker skin for the trials they faced. Into adulthood he wore his ego like a suit of armor; Thomas was outgoing and likable, so of course it became easier to brush aside random negative experiences as minor blips, things that didn’t represent their worth.

This was challenged somewhat as he began pursuing creative outlets more seriously. This meant more work for Roman in general (Woo! Suck it Logan), but it also came with more opportunities to feel ashamed of a messed-up performance, embarrassed by a note sung wrong, hurt by an ill-intentioned piece of feedback.

So he tried to compensate at times. Sue him. Between the nights he spent nursing his wounds and wondering how to do better next time, perhaps he deserved to be a little self-congratulatory about the shining achievements he won for them. There was a certain safety in placing himself up on that pedestal, so high above that it felt like nobody could ever reach him; that he was above it all. But the reality was that this pedestal, gold-plated as it may be, was founded on an interior of paper mache, one wrong move from away from collapsing and sending him tumbling back down to earth.

It was a good thing that pretending came naturally to Roman. So natural that the fear of falling sometimes didn’t register with him at all.

------------------

V - the calamitous corollary of being considered.

Except, it may have been too much to expect nobody to ever realize there was something up with him. The fact that the sides had to work closely together alone meant that the excuse of being busy after every troubling experience could only work for so long.

The first one to find out was Patton, because of course it was. Sometimes Roman felt as if Patton wasn’t given enough credit for his intelligence. Even though he could be a tad slow on the uptake on other things, his ability to detect the slightest change in mood and discern how people were feeling could be uncanny at times. Emotions just happened to be Patton's strong suit, and while that was very much appreciated when it came to sharing excitement or talking through a heated problem, it was not so grand when you were trying to get away with hiding something.

The first time he let something slip was a few days after Thomas had been flat-out rejected when asking someone out on a date. It wasn't that big of a blow, considering they had barely known the guy for more than a month, but Roman had been insistent that they throw caution into the wind and give it a shot, sure that he had been receiving signals that proved that this guy felt a similar interest. Turns out, he didn't, and was very-much straight. At least the rejection had been somewhat carried out gently and he didn't seem too put-off about staying friends afterwards. Nonetheless the wound was still fresh, and Thomas kept internally cringing whenever he thought about it, which didn't help matters. Whatever. Roman dealt with the bruises that arose from the incident and dabbed a little foundation on the ones he couldn't hide with clothing. They'd get over it in a matter of weeks.

It was after the awkward feelings had finally begun to settle when it happened. Roman and Patton had been in the kitchen preparing dinner when Thomas received a message on his phone, and when he went to check it, he face-planted on the couch in mortification.

'Hey man, I just remembered that my cousin is coming to town this weekend. He's gay too so I thought you two could go on a blind date if you're still looking. :) Lmk your thoughts.'

Patton frowned upon sensing the sudden wave of embarrassment, pausing to check what had happened. "Well...That's thoughtful of him!" He chuckled, tone trying and failing to be positive. Roman couldn't share the same sentiment.

"Thoughtless is more like it! He wants to set us up with the first gay person he knows? Who's not even in the city?  Does he think Thomas has no standards at all?! How dare-" Roman's indignant protests cut off as he felt the skin around his collar grow tender and swell slightly. He let out a slight whimper when he pressed his fingers into the bruise to double check its location. Why now and in such a visible place?! He's going to get Thomas to drop that guy if it's the last thing he does-

"Ro! Are you okay?"

Right. Patton was still here. Don't panic.

"Y-yeah! I just remembered an injury I sustained earlier. But not to worry, 'tis but a flesh wound!" He joked.

"A flesh wound?!" Patton cried, reference flying over his head. "Let me see."

Gently, Patton moved his head upwards to get a better look at the bruise. It mustn't look good, because Patton, squeamish as he was, grimaced on sight.

"How on earth did that happen? I don't remember that being there just now."

"Uh." Come on Creative skills, work your magic. "A stray whomping willow in The Imagination? You know how they can be. I suppose it merely took a while to develop, bruises can be funny like that."

Luckily it seemed to work, because Patton sighed. "I thought you got rid of them all after that time one almost threw Logan into a lake. Did Remus make more?"

Heh. Good times. That was a slight lie on his behalf when he had told the others he had gotten rid of the trees; he had kept a few of them around because they were once a gift from Remus to quote 'spice up his boring forests'. Not for any sentimental reasons, of course, but because he thought it was funny and it kept him on his toes. "I guess."

Patton made a small 'tsk' noise, mouth still drawn in a frown but he didn't comment further. "Come on, I'll help you treat that. Does it hurt?"

"Of course not." He smiled. "Do you really think I could be bested by a mere tree?"

"Never! I do wish you were more careful when you go on your little adventures, though. It makes me awfully sad to think about you in 'pine'."

Roman knew it had been a flimsy excuse and even though Patton seemed to accept it, there was a hesitation in his eye which spoke of hidden disbelief. After some first aid and many more tree-related puns later, they went back to cooking, finishing up 30 minutes later. When Logan came down to dinner, immediately questioning the bandages around Roman's neck, he repeated the fake story, distracting him with a request not to go into The Imagination with the whomping willow around and packaging the thinly-veiled jab at the way Logan had once freaked out when he was swung around by the semi-sentient tree as a warning. Logan's concern quickly faded and he shot back a sharp retaliation that Roman didn't care to remember. He just laughed, feeling as light as a kite with the crisis averted.

The next time didn't go over as gracefully.

Thomas had found a different partner eventually, one that wasn't some friend's cousin. They dated for months, and just when he had been thinking about inviting his boyfriend to move in so he could be closer to his workplace, he'd been broken up with. On Valentines Day of all days. There was no better way of putting it; they had planned to go out to dinner, managing to book a table at a fairly classy restaurant, exchanged gifts, and near the end of the night his boyfriend had leaned across the table with a sad smile, thanking him for the evening before admitting he didn't see them working out anymore. He said it quietly, as to not cause a scene among the other diners, but that didn't stop Thomas from immediately bursting into tears. The scene had caused his (now ex) boyfriend to leave early after paying his half of the bill. At least the waitress had taken pity on him and brought over more complimentary bread rolls (which he took because he was not a complete fool, heartbroken as he may be), though even that didn't stop the confusion and embarrassment of it all.

As expected, the whole incident caused nothing but chaos; the right-brain sides were devastated, Anxiety was in a state of panic, and Logic had been metaphorically thrown out the window. As Thomas made his way home, they were at a complete loss for what to do. They had started the day, hoping to take a step forward in their relationship, and ended up with nothing at all. What worse is that they didn't even have a clear idea why (admittedly, that could have been due to, as mentioned before, the inconsolable crying).

It seemed like the most sensible thing to do at the moment was to throw the Valentines gifts away and gorge on the ice-cream that had been sitting in the back of the freezer for who-knows how long while watching a comfort show and trying to forget the whole evening. So that's what they did. As Logan tried to sort through what happened and rationalize what to do next, Patton wallowed in his misery as he dealt with the giant mix of feelings Thomas was going through.

After a few hours working through the brunt of it, enough to where his mind began wandering elsewhere, Patton realized with a start that he hadn't seen Roman since the start of the evening. He must have been so devastated too! Patton recalled how excited he was about the day ahead of them, how he spun fantasies of Thomas' boyfriend accepting the proposal to move in and then the future proposals that could come after that-

Patton mournfully sobbed. He needed to stop thinking about this, or else Thomas could start spiraling again. The best thing to do right now was distract himself, and to do that he should go check on Roman. Perhaps they could talk and have a mutual catharsis over the whole thing. Or better yet, he could put his energy towards someone else and he won't have to fall back into the thoughts that had been clouding his mind ever since they had left that stupid restaurant.

Splashing some water on his face to clear up some of the blotchy-ness, he left his room and crossed the hallway towards Roman's. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, so he tentatively knocked. "Kiddo?"

For a few moments there was silence, and Patton almost turned away, assuming that Roman might be blowing off some steam in The Imagination, until a voice cleared inside the room and answered. "Pat? What do you want?"

Patton was taken aback for a second, not expecting such a straight-forward answer. It almost sounded like Roman wasn't upset at all, but Patton sincerely doubted that to be true. His tone was almost too normal, and for anybody else he wouldn't have questioned it, but the lack of dramatics or flowery language was always a clear red flag for the Creative side. "I wanted to check on you since um- You-Know-Who took 'dine and dash' a tad too seriously." He chuckled humorlessly. "...Can I come in?"

There was some shuffling and muffled curses. "Why? I'm fine. Worry about yourself."

"'Why?'" He repeated, eyeing the door warily. "I'm concerned! I haven't seen you in hours and I- I know you must be upset about this too. Can we please talk?"

"I'm not exactly my most princely presentable self right now. Anyway, it's late. Surely this can wait until tomorrow?"

Patton looked down at himself. Instead of his usual garb, he had thrown on some more comfortable clothes hours ago, and they were currently crumpled from laying in bed, sobbing his eyes out. "I'm hardly my best-self either right now, Kiddo-" Before he could go on a spiel about how it was best to not bottle up emotions when they're fresh (and ignoring the hypocrisy of that sentiment), he heard a thump on the other side of the door followed by a quiet hiss of pain. Patton began to panic, and his hand flew to the handle. "I'm coming in!"

Before the other side could even consider protesting, Patton flung the fortunately unlocked door open and stepped into the room, gasping at the sight he was met with. Roman was on the floor, wincing as he clutched his leg. Although he was still dressed in his usual outfit, there were enough injuries on his visible skin that Patton could only wonder how far they went. He covered his mouth and stared in horror as Roman turned to look at him nervously.

"What- How did this happen?!"

Roman licked his dry lips, eyes darting away as he searched for an excuse. "I- The Imagination- This is from earlier-"

"You told me this morning you were going to spend the day helping Thomas write a love letter." Patton said, voice strained with panic and disbelief. "Tell me the truth, please."

Shoot, he had announced his plans earlier that day, hadn't he? He internally cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut, before lowering his head in defeat. "Can you keep a secret, Pat?"

Said side shifted uncomfortably, but his tone was resolute when he nodded. "If it means you'll let me help with whatever this is."

"Okay..." Roman inhaled. "Okay."

And then he explained. Or rather, gave a shortened version of the truth which was less likely to give Patton a complete heart-attack: that bruised egos were something he experienced, but it was never this bad (true) or all that common (also true), and that they weren't something to worry about because he could usually take care of them himself (technically true). By the time he had finished, Patton still looked concerned, but had become less frantic with the information.

"You'll let me help in the future if you need it, right?" He asked, so close to shedding tears that Roman had trouble keeping eye-contact without becoming choked up with guilt.

"If I need it." He agreed.

Finally, Patton smiled, and went to fetch the first-aid kit hastily. As he helped patch him up for the second time that year, the look in Patton's eyes was so pained that Roman vowed to let him see this side of him as little as possible.

For a while, he kept true to this promise to himself, and on the occasions when Patton would drop by to check if everything was alright, if Roman had encountered any bruised egos since, he relished in the relief on his face whenever he would lie and said he hadn't. Distantly he wondered sometimes if this was how heroes were supposed to feel; protecting people by letting them live in blissful ignorance and bearing the burden of the ugly truth alone.

(It was thoughts like that that kept him going.)

------------------

VI - high highs and low lows.

And then came the videos. Youtube had been an excellent ego-boost for Roman. Similar to how life-changing Vine was, the instant gratification of likes and feedback and people liking what they made was enough to send him over the moon, and oftentimes it was able to ward away the downsides that came with it too; the stress of staying relevant, the occasional hate comment, the portion of dislikes that didn't explain what about the video was dislike-worthy-

Overall it seemed like a great idea, especially when the sides became involved. It gave them all the chance to gain their own spotlights, which most of them appreciated. Sometimes this wasn't always so good though. With the videos came more introspection than usual, which meant deeply examining each problem to try to find some kind of moral. And right now, Roman didn't want to do any sort of thinking exercise about how badly he messed up. At this point in their career, a simple audition should have been a cake walk, instead it was an ache walk...Okay, admittedly he wasn't on his best game right now. The point was, he had potentially thrown the whole audition by forgetting something so simple as the lyrics, and now the casting director would definitely only remember Thomas by the way he froze under pressure, which wasn't exactly an appealing trait in somebody looking to go up on stage where the pressure was set to 100.

After everything was said and done, Roman had no choice but to approach Patton for help. In his current state, he was much too dizzy on his feet to even contemplate showing up and trying to play it off cool, which would've been an laughable endeavor anyhow considering how outwardly embarrassed Thomas was. Betrayal from his own-- well. It was a bit too harsh to blame his current predicament on Thomas, after all the fact of the matter was that it was Roman’s fault for not being better prepared.

Anyway, that's how he ended up in his current position, being swaddled in a too-warm bed, injuries patched up and having soup spoon-fed into his mouth. The whole thing felt...strange. Usually during times like this he would be grinning and bearing it, the inner satisfaction he got from fooling everyone with his performance pushing him through the day, but he supposed this was unavoidable. It was better that only one side had to see part of the problem rather than exposing it to everyone, and out of all of them, at least it was Patton. It still didn't sit well that his secret was now out in the open, a throwaway joke to be used before moving along, but hopefully that would play to his favor and they'd view it as his usual dramatics. Not like he preferred to be seen as too incompetent to care for himself, even if it fit with his persona. He supposed it just went without saying that princes are supposed to have someone at their every beck and call, they're supposed to be indulgent and spoiled and ridiculous. But princes were also supposed to be leaders, someone who was caring and brave and ready to face any challenge.

Roman sighed, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He didn't feel very princely at all right now.

“Kiddo, are you doing okay? Does something hurt? Is the soup too hot?” Patton asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was such an open book when it came to the other sides, which meant that Roman knew exactly when he had worried or panicked the fatherly figure. Honestly, it only made him feel worse. Being doted over seemed like a good idea until it meant being the subject of pity and other people’s hurt.

“No no, I’m fine Padre. It’s fine. I was just taking a trip into thought city for a second there.” He cracked a smile, trying to ignore how the bruise at the corner of his mouth pulled at the motion. If only he could think of a more original nickname, perhaps that would be more convincing. He was simply drawing blanks today it seemed. “What do you think the others are up to right now? I’d bet 5 bucks Logan is losing his mind having to deal with Anxiety alone.”

Patton didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sudden change of subject encouraged him to stop any further questioning.

In the end they talked until the others had finished filming. Whatever happened during the discussion must have helped Thomas grow past his feelings, because one-by-one the injuries on Roman's body grew smaller until they had faded entirely. Seeing this, Patton noticeably livened up again, and he cheerily declared that he would take the empty bowl back to the kitchen and check in with the others.

As soon as he was gone, Roman’s face dropped, tired from all the smiling he had been doing, and he slid down further into the sheets. Perhaps he should consider himself fortunate that the others had helped out, but all he could think about was how they now knew about his biggest weakness and how embarrassing that was. Logan and Anxiety were the last two sides he wanted finding out about this, if not for their often-tumultuous relationships, but because they'd never fully understand. Neither of them were as dependent on validation as much as he was. Despite what others thought about them, they would just keep on going, meanwhile Roman couldn't truly thrive without some kind of feedback; he was too shackled to expectations and the need to please for that sort of self-indulgence, it was practically written in his existence. It simply wasn't enough for him to be great, he needed to be great and be appreciated. Without that, he felt as if he would burn out, like a candle who's supply of oxygen had been cut off, leaving only smoke and the charred wick behind as a reminder of the fire that was once there. And sometimes that made him feel pathetic, that so much of his esteem depended on what people thought of him. Other times it just made him envy the others who had no one to please but Thomas himself and what he deemed important.

...He was tired, but he needed to keep going. The least he could do was keep up the image of egotism so that those horrid thoughts of being lesser weren't picked up by the others. If they started thinking of him the way he thought about himself (if they didn't already), he wouldn't know what he'd do. He wouldn't stand to be pitied or mocked or anything that validated what he already knew about himself. He just wouldn't.

Rolling out of bed, he practiced his smile in the mirror, fixed his clothes, and sunk out to make his grand appearance.

He couldn’t let this happen again at all costs.

------------------

VII - an agreeable sort of self-destruction.

More and more often, Roman was glad that he and Remus didn't share a room anymore. From the nights he hunched over scraps of ideas and worked without distraction until the sun was on the horizon, to the days he woke up with tears clinging to his lashes and breath coming out in labored pants, until he realizes the dream about him messing up so badly that he's split apart a second time was merely a cruel trick of his mind.

Currently, there was no greater time to be grateful for their separation than the moment he hastily returned back to safety after Remus' debut to Thomas. If only his brother could see the way he paced back and forth and tugged at his hair, he was sure his other half would merely gloat and poke away at his wounds instead of doing anything to help. Or worse, use it as ammunition in front of the other sides as some sort of proof of his imperfection.

Speaking of, the video was disastrous. He had been out-cold the entire time so he had no idea what was said and had no way of directing the conversation at all, which was possibly the most aggravating part of the whole situation. Beyond that, there was so much that Remus could have told the others without his knowledge. Once upon a time, the two of them were two peas in a pod, and that meant they knew an unnameable amount of secrets about each other. (Like how Remus always used to sleep with this crudely-knitted octopus Roman had made for him when he discovered crochet. Remus claimed to have set fire to it when they were teenagers, but Roman had seen it tucked away on a shelf the last time he had been in his room, before the Great Divide). The room swam a little when Roman thought about it too much. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it wasn't as if he'd done much to earn Remus' loyalty. Why would he take the higher road and keep all of that to himself now, when he had the prime opportunity right in front of him to make himself seem like the better twin?

Hold on... He was thinking about this all wrong. Remus didn't care about good and bad the same way he did. Sure he was adamant that his version of being creative was more interesting, but he never tried to convince any of the other sides that he was inherently better or more worthy of attention than Roman, at least not to the same extent he did. The realization hit Roman like a train on it's way to a damsel tied to railway tracks (for lack of a less Remus-y simile): had he been wrong to push his brother away when he was just trying to help? All this time he had expected nothing but the worst from him, all because he was loud and unapologetic and had gone about his concern in a way that frightened him. Though just because Roman had been scared, surely that didn't warrant the dark sides being pushed aside in such a manner, and clearly the repression wasn't any benefit to Thomas...And was that partially his fault? He had been the one who encouraged Patton to divide the sides up. He had come up with the name for them: light and dark.

When he really thought about it, there wasn't much 'light' about him, not when he had been the source of so many problems.

Making Virgil feel unwelcome and continuing to trample on his boundaries.

His insults toward Logan and attempts to diminish his importance.

Leading Thomas and Patton astray in his pursuits for romance.

Being too quick to side with Janus when he should’ve known that the deceitful side only stood for selfishness and not the fair-played ambition Thomas valued.

And now: his treatment of Remus for most of their lives. Pushing him away, pretending he didn't exist, trying to erase their memories together.

How could he have the gall to claim that he saw Remus as an awful reflection of everything he didn’t want to be, when the whole point of looking into a mirror means facing you and you alone?

Even his metaphors were hypocritical.

It was a shock that nobody saw through that statement or called him out on how he had wronged just about everybody. How truly unfortunate it was that he had been declared the hero when he had done very little to live up to that title. Heroes weren't mean. They didn't make people feel bad about themselves for merely existing. They're supposed to defeat the bad guys, yes, but every time he had thought he was accomplishing that, it turned out that he was always off the mark. At least this time he had it right with Deceit, but still, that didn't erase the history he had with misjudging what was acceptable. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of reflection that must have on Thomas' content. If his creativity, which was supposed to be a force of pure good, had made a countless number of errors, what did that say about the things they were proud of? How many things had they put into the world that were imperfect? That had a misleading message? That was problematic and hurt people?

The realization had his throat tightening in panic. How could he ever have confidence in his work when he had such a flawed system of right and wrong? How-

...Wait.

Roman's spiraling thoughts were fortunately put on pause as he passed by his vanity, being pulled back to reality in an instant and finally noticing the splash of colours that had made themselves welcome on his skin once more. He gaped at his own reflection. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the sight per say, but he hadn’t realized anything had happened today that would affect Thomas’ ego. Remus’ appearance perhaps? He had the feeling that if there was any discussion to be had in light of that it would be on the goodness of his character, which could be a worthy-enough explanation. But if anything wouldn’t that what the large gash on the back of his head (fittingly) represented? So where had the others come from? Unless…

Was it him?  

His own self-criticism had never left a dent on his pride before. Usually his injuries tended to be the result of outside sources; the kind of things that come out of nowhere and hit at you harder than you could ever expect. Did this mean that his own words were on par with Thomas’ harshest critics?

Roman shakily sat down. This... was a good thing, right? Perhaps he was finally gaining some self-awareness. He had been trying to make amends for where he had fallen short in the past, so this could be the sign he was making progress.

Yes. This was good. And if it wasn't, then perhaps this was just apart of his repentance. At this point he was sure everyone would agree.

------------------

VIII - the art of learning to let go.

The thing about tightropes is quite interesting. Like most other skills, it is something that needs to be honed. At first you try on a smaller scale and fall off more times you can count, but it's alright because that's why you practice in a safe environment. And then you progress to something more risky, and this time you have other tools to help keep you steady. Before you know it, you're up doing the actual thing; a rope suspended tens of feet in the air and thousands of eyes watching your every move, each one wondering if you really will make it across, or if they're about to watch a great tragedy take place before them. When you misjudge your own abilities and are thrust upon that rope when you're unprepared, however, all of the practice you gained can feel as if it has slipped away. As soon as you take your first step, the rope wobbles and you know somewhere deep down that your fall will be inevitable. But with so many expectant eyes baring into you, what else are you to do but continue forward? Continue until you're halfway across and your balance is so shaky that all you can do is watch as the rope swings backwards and forwards beneath your feet until you give up on trying to steady yourself entirely and-

Roman let go of the rope he had been clinging onto.

There was no grace in the way that he fell. It wasn't even a matter of choosing a side; ego or change. At first he fell so gradually that he didn't feel it at all, placing all of his thoughts and opinions into a neat little box and shoving them aside. Trying so hard to adapt, trying to be feel comfortable clinging to reasoning that contradicted his role, his meaning, his existence- and before he knew it, he was plummeting towards the ground because even then, that little piece of purpose he was forcing himself to mold his worth around did nothing but feed into the self-righteousness that must've always been there, hiding away under the surface.

Roman could only describe the feeling as air-sickness when he sunk out, his very being thrown into weightless uncertainty. Once he appeared back at his safe place, the place he wanted to be most, he felt his body connect with the ground once more as he collapsed onto the floor, body shaking with sobs and wounds he already knew were appearing.

He had been so stupid. Every step he took was littered with mistakes. Just when he thought he had learned, to try to be more accepting, to know when to give up, to listen to others instead of forging his own path, another thing came along and knocked him back to where he started and he was thrown back into the cycle of trying to atone for his actions. A cycle that never seemed to end.

His arm fractured and started to swell.

For once he thought he finally had it figured out. If he just followed the person who should've known what was best for Thomas, even if it meant going back on his own desires, surely then he would be on the right side for once. But all of a sudden that was wrong and now it was all his fault that so many bad outcomes had come about as a consequence of his lack of assertion. He may not have loaded the gun, but he had pulled the trigger, and that made him more culpable than anyone else.

His nose ached as if hit by an unseen force and began dripping blood.

Even his attempts at keeping his ego in check were all for nothing because the moment he felt threatened he lashed out towards Janus, the side who now all of a sudden deserved a seat at the table because he had gained Patton's favor (nevermind that he had agreed with him first. Oh no, that was just Roman being naive and easy to sway if only you stroke his ego a little. What importance could his opinions possibly have?). But that was the thing, wasn’t it? In the end he just couldn’t win, no matter what he did. When he tried to silence his voice it was too obvious and attention-seeking, and when he chose to project his thoughts it was too loud and abrasive. When he spoke out he was punching down, but when others did the same they were punching up up up. It left him wondering how much more he had to fall before it was no longer deemed okay to kick him while he was down. Was it his fault for choosing to sit atop his golden pedestal, making himself seem forever untouchable and unable to be hurt? And would things be different if he was sensitive like Patton? Complicated like Virgil? Respectable like Logan? Had he been making a mistake all along by pretending to be stronger than he was? But how was he ever supposed to let go of the walls he had built, knowing that the second they crumbled, all the things he had been trying to protect himself from would pass through and destroy everything he had worked so hard for? Maybe it was time to accept that this was all he could be; that there was no way for him to change, no way to soften his edges or stick firm to his beliefs that wouldn’t end with him in a losing position.

His ribs ached, bending unnaturally until he felt a snap in his chest.

Perhaps Janus was right by calling him evil. He had proven it time and time again that he was no good for Thomas. In fact, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that he was worse than Remus. At least he couldn't help the way he was, didn't have control over the problems he caused unlike Roman. He was supposed to be the half with all the bad parts removed. The 2.0 version, new and improved. He had no excuse for being as flawed as he was, not really. All this time spent thinking he was the good twin, and it was nothing more than an act of self-delusion. The grandeur of a side with nothing to show for it beyond his words.

His eyelid puffed up and mottled with colour.

...He was bad. Unneeded. Evil.

The capillaries across his knuckles burst and stained them a violent red.

Everything would be so much better if he just-

"Broman?" Oh shit.

Romans eyes flew open. And he realized belatedly that he wasn't looking at his floor; his floor had intricate Persian rugs and a soft fluffy carpet. This one had various stains and burns and felt scratchy against his fingers.

"What the fuck. Princey? You good?"

1) He wasn't in his room. 2) Wherever he was, Remus and Virgil were here too.

"M-my mistake! I must have accidentally sunk out to the wrong place. If you'll excuse me-" He tried, but his voice was hoarse and clearly not okay. Of all times for his acting skills to have failed him.

"Oh no you don't."

Before he could sink out through the floor, two arms latched under his armpits and hoisted him upright. He choked back a gasp at the sudden movement, senses flashing white as his injuries were jostled. He barely heard the shocked exclamation in front of him before the two voices discussed something hastily and he was deposited onto a soft surface. The ringing in his ears faded, just in time to hear Virgil speak.

"What happened? " He asked, voice layered with anxiety and sounding on the verge of a panic attack. Roman would have tried to reassure him if he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire.

"It just happens sometimes, when Thomas’ ego gets bruised." Remus answered bitterly when it became clear his brother wasn't in a position to explain. He then muttered under his breath: "Though this time is different, huh?"

"What? I thought- I didn’t know it got this bad.” Virgil whispers, horrified.

"Sorry you have to see this, Finding Emo." Roman croaked once he began slowly coming back to his senses. He would regret not being more composed later, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything. “I’ll be as good as Gucci soon.”

"No. Shut the fuck up, you don't get to say that." Remus said angrily. Why did he sound so mad? Roman tried to crack open his eyes to check, but the world was still spinning too much for him to really recognize what was he was seeing. On top of that it seemed one of his eyes was swollen shut. Joy. That'll make it more difficult to patch himself up later.

"'Told you before, I can handle myself." He finally managed.

"Yeah? Was that you 'handling yourself' when you dropped in and started bleeding all over my floor? Or when you stopped talking to me and kicked us 'dark sides' to the curb because your sense of superiority was more important? Or when you started acting like a royal prick to everyone just so they wouldn't know you spend your nights licking your wounds?"

"Stop." Roman pleaded, shamefully curling into himself as much as his body allowed in its current state. Remus paused in his tirade before continuing, more quietly.

"If you're uncomfortable just from that, you should try watching your brother slowly self-destruct for years and not being able to do anything about it. That's fucking uncomfortable." Roman heard a sniffle, and his body went cold. He hadn't heard Remus get upset since they were kids. Sometimes he forgot that there was more to his brother than his disgusting unpredictable persona, and the thought that he could've been hurting Remus all this time was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"I'm..." Sorry? Was he sorry? Apologizing was practically second nature at this point, but he couldn't even tell if the words would be genuine if he said them. Was he sorry for his actions or for hurting Remus, or was it the fact that he had been caught at all? If he had it his way, none of this would be happening, so perhaps he wasn't as apologetic as he thought. He really was the worst, wasn't he?

Remus seemed to pick up on what he was thinking about saying, because he laughed; not in his usual cartoon-ish way, but resigned and hurt. The sound pulled at Roman's heart. "Save it. Here's what's going to happen you Walmart Prince Eric knockoff. You’re going to accept our help whether you like it or not, and if you try to pull any self-sacrificing BS at any point, I’m going to eat your entire makeup collection.”

“...You wouldn’t. You don’t like the way glitter sticks to your teeth.” Roman argued weakly, just for the sake of being contrary.

“Try me.”

Roman sighed. He really didn’t doubt that Remus would be petty enough to go through with his threats, especially since he knew it how much it would bother Roman to summon a new set. In any case, he wasn’t in a position to do much of anything at the moment, and now that it was too late to pretend like this never happened, he figured he might as well roll with it. Future him could deal with the consequences later.

“Okay.” He said after a moments pause, looking to the Virgil-shaped figure, as much as the crick in his neck would allow. “...Just don’t tell Patton about this. Not yet.”

The figure shuffled, out of what was probably awkwardness after having watching the twins argue. “No worries dude. We’re not exactly on- uh. Y’know what, nevermind, I’ll just go get the medical kit.”

During the moments that Virgil had shuffled off, there was an empty silence. Roman spent it trying to blink his uninjured eye back into focus, until he was finally able to spot Remus standing across from him, an uncharacteristically glum look on his face. "You look like you're going to a funeral."

"Don't even joke about that. I don't need more thoughts about-"

"Death? I thought that was pretty par for the course."

Remus smiled wryly at him, sarcastic and mocking. "You dying, dummy. D'you think I never imagined it? Something happening and you disappearing because you never let anyone help you- and me not even knowing it happened? Finding out much too late? Being alone?"

Roman didn't know what to say to that. "Sorry." He blurted out, and this time he felt like he meant it. "If it means anything in retrospect, I wouldn't have ever let it go that far. I think."

"'You think.'" Remus repeated. "God, you need some self-care. It's a shame you and Jan-jan weren't friends before. It's supposed to be his job to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen, you know."

Roman felt himself flinch at the mention of Janus' name before he could control it. If Remus noticed, he didn't get the chance to comment on it, because at that moment Virgil came bustling back with a first aid kit.

"I didn't know what else you needed, so I got some water, balms, bandages, frozen peas, and creams. Just in case." He spoke, noticeably out of breath.

"Water?" Roman asked as a glass was held towards him. He pushed himself upright with some effort and accepted it.

"For painkillers." Virgil replied, handing him some pills once he had set the other items down. "Also your throat sounded kinda rough, and when you cry a lot you can get dehydrated, so..."

Surreptitiously, Roman wiped at his face and tried to not feel too embarrassed that the two of them had heard him wail like a toddler who'd had their favourite toy taken away. Before he knew it, he had taken the pills and downed half of the glass while the other two sides unpacked the medical supplies. Virgil really had thought of everything he might have needed.

Roman blinked as he watched them, stunned that he would go to so much effort. "This is very thoughtful of you, Medic Parade."

Virgil paused as he pieced together the nickname, and then scowled. "Mayday doesn't even sound anything like medic- and it's not. I just didn't want to- y'know- get the wrong things and make it worse."

Remus elbowed Virgil in the side, perhaps in an attempt to cheer him up. "Hey, you can't do any worse than what we did the first time Ro got a booboo."

"...And what was that?" Virgil's hesitant tone indicated he wasn't sure if he want to know.

"Nothing!" Remus grinned.

"I'm pretty sure that was just a concussion." Roman stated before Virgil got the wrong idea and thought they were totally stupid, looking upward as he tried to recall the incident Remus was talking about. It felt like forever ago now. "Not like anything could be done, to be fair."

"'Just'-" Virgil made a strange choked sound. "Is this what my life's gonna be now? Having a worry-induced heart attack every 5 minutes?"

"Welcome to the club!" Remus cheered, offering a fist bump which Virgil ignored in favour of burying his head in his hands.

"Goddammit. Alright- let's get this show on the road I guess. Roman, take your shirt off." When Remus' eyebrows started waggling, clearly about to make an inappropriate comment, Virgil waved his hands wildly to stop him. "So we can look at the damage! Shut your mouth Remus!"

"I didn't say anything." He intoned, looking overly smug before turning to Roman expectantly.

Said man frowned, placing the glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Before he made any move, he glanced at Virgil who was looking red either out of Remus-induced embarrassment or frustration. Mood. "You don't have to stick around for this part if you don't want to. It can be a bit much, so I wouldn't blame you."

"I'm not a baby, Roman." Virgil retorted, crossing his arms. "Making sure you don't die or something is way more important than my comfort. I can't promise you'll be safe from me calling you an idiot until you're better, though."

Roman looked away again. Was that condescending of him to ask? He opened his mouth to apologize, before closing it in resignation. No need to make this into an issue; he'll ask Virgil whether he felt belittled later. "...Okay. That's fair."

Instead of going through the pain of trying to remove a shirt with a possibly broken rib, he snapped and it disappeared. He heard a sharp inhale, but in response to what, he didn't know. Roman looked downwards to check. Among the remnants of previous attempts at self-healing (some messier than others), the area around his right rib was inflamed and a large portion of his stomach was splotched with purple. Noticeably, his left arm was also burning red, but luckily it seemed like the fracture there was non-displaced, which hopefully meant it would heal quicker. Other than that, there weren't any major injuries besides his black eye and bloody nose that needed attention. Could be worse, considering how god-awful he felt! 

Remus whistled. "You look like someone took a dalmatian and made it the colours of the bi-flag."

"Yeah. That's- weirdly accurate." Virgil winced. "What hurts most?"

"Uh- My arm and my ribs I suppose. They're a little... on the broken side."

"That's what I thought." Virgil muttered under his breath, grabbing the items to make a split. "I'll deal with those first, Remus you help with his nose and the bruising. And if you want to make yourself useful, hold these peas to your eye, dumbass."

"Your bedside manners are impeccable." Roman said sarcastically, taking the bag of peas and exhaling as he adjusted to the cold feeling pressed against his face. "...Here I thought there would be a grace period before you started calling me names."

"Just calling it like I see it." Virgil hummed. With deft fingers, he held the splint under Roman's forearm and began winding the bandages around it. "You should probably make an actual brace later when you're up to it, but hopefully this should keep it in place and remind you to not use it for now."

"But that sides my dominant arm-" Roman whined, about to complain about how he was supposed to get work done until Remus pinched the bridge of his nose none too gently, and he yelped. "Ow! Remus."

"Think of that as payback for the last 15 years." Remus replied lightly. "Tilt your head back."

Begrudgingly, Roman complied, resting his head against the headboard.  He stared at the ceiling as his brother and best friend silently worked their way around his injuries, applying topical ointment to his bruises and applying band-aids to small cuts. He didn't even realize they had finished until Remus bonked him on the head.

"All done! Shame it's not Halloween. You could go as a mummy again."

"Ha ha. What a comedian you are." Roman replied in a deadpan, but fought to keep a smile away anyway. The irony of how much he resembled that costume right now definitely wasn't lost on him.

"...I'm sorry for ruining that, by the way." Virgil spoke up suddenly from where he had been packing everything away, breaking the thoughtful silence he'd been in for the past few minutes. "Your costume during the Christmas video, I mean. And saying all of that harsh stuff to make a point."

Roman only stared, taken aback. "All of that happened half a year ago. I'm not upset about that."

"I know, I know. It's just... I've been thinking about it recently, all the times I haven't acted very...good." He bit his lip, averting his eyes. "Especially now, knowing that kind of thing literally hurts you."

"Virgil." Roman sighed softly, taking his hand. Virgil startled but didn't pull away. "You don't need to be 'good' all the time. Wasn't that the point you were trying to get across back then? All of us have made mistakes in our pasts, some more than others, but if you can forgive us for that, then you deserve the same acceptance for your less-than-stellar moments."

"Oh." He said, eyes glassy. His hand tightened around Roman's. "I'm still sorry, if I've ever made things worse for you or if I haven't been supportive enough."

"I- You have-"  Roman spluttered worriedly, sitting up.

"It's alright, I already know that we kinda work against each other at times. Part of the job." Roman's mouth closed with a grimace. "Still, it's unfair on you. You shouldn't be expected to perfect, especially not with an asshole like me there to tear into your work. So just...know that it's okay to tell us when you're struggling, okay?"

"Right..." Roman bit his cheek. Virgil seemed well-meaning, but showing that sort of weakness was a concept he still found difficult to accept, even if he had given in this time and allowed himself to be completely seen. Virgil noticed his lackluster agreement and patted him with his free hand.

"Hey. In almost any case we'd embrace you."

"...No one hates you."  Roman finished a beat later with a small smile. Virgil's face lit up and moved closer to his side. Upon seeing this, Remus unceremoniously squished himself between the two of them, careful not to bump against Roman too much (although Virgil definitely got the brunt of Remus crawling over him, to his dismay).

"Look at you two, my favourite dorks, bonding over feeling insecure!" He declared, throwing an arm around both of them. "Couldn't be me, but I still love you."

Roman poked Remus' side. "So that wasn't you admitting to being worried earlier?"

"Nope! New phone who dis?"

"You're insufferable." Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. "...I love you guys."

And Roman sighed contently, feeling safe and cared for. Things weren't perfect right now; he still needed time to heal and Remus and Virgil would undoubtedly want him to open up about what happened sooner or later, but for now he was was able to hear that he was loved and believe it to be true, and that was enough.

"I love you both too. Thank you."

[trashcatsnark]

NGL I love how much you have embraced the silverv stuff here - its so nice to read. I submit for consideration, Rogue notices the tattoo while on the disaster date and both Johnny and V play it off as a joke and holy shit poor rogue stuck in a room with two morons.

Also - V getting dressed for that date and realizing they just MIGHT be a little jealous with a side of some thoughts of "Oh God Johnny Would NEVER Feel That Way About Me Gotta Bury This Deep So He Doesn't Know"

Johnny notices the anxiety but is very dense about the cause.

Oh hell yeah, I have fully embraced it and this ship; I was writing SilverV porn before the game came out, like I knew what my ship for this game was gonna be from the second I saw gifs of

“You’re a dick, Johnny” 

“And you’re a cunt, so maybe we’ll fit together after all.” 

That banter sealed my fate and I’m fairly sure I had named and created my V then wrote porn of her with Johnny literally a week later. The devil works hard, but my brainrot works harder and faster. 

Spoilers! 

Okay, so I’ve thought a lot about that date in both a silverv context (and largely how it fits with my V, Aidan and her fic) I’ll try to stay general though. 

Firstly, I whole heartedly believe Rogue sees through their bullshit. Not only is she just good at that, but Johnny even states she has MRE’s (?) and can see through people, like her eyes can pick up on signs of lying. And usually, thats not an issue for when V talks to her, but when she asks about Johnny and their relationship with him. Its a mess. And when Rogue asks Johnny about it, its a mess. 

And when Rogue notices the tattoo it’s like Oh... I get it . And Johnny is of course like, “hahaha, yeah I thought that’d be so funny, the kid hates it.” But Rogue isn’t stupid, she knows a lovey dovey heart with their names, something that looks like someone doodled it on their third grade notebook about their crush, is not really typical of Johnny’s “joking” She knows that if Johnny is not really the kind of guy to hahahaha its so funny to make it look like we love each other; he’d be more likely to get a dick tattooed on V’s arm if it was just to mess with them. For gods sake, look how many people didn’t pick “the other one” because they were convinced it was gonna be a dick. That’s a Johnny just trying to fuck with someone move. So, she doesn’t buy it, but doesn’t push it...with him. 

She asks V about and of course they play it off as “Yeah, Johnny thought it’d be funny, what a fucking asshole, its so fucking dumb, I totally fuckin hate it.” 

“So, why not get it removed?” 

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh, well you see what had happened was, um, I, just uhhhh, never been enough time, I guess yeahhhhhh.” 

Cause lets face it, in cyberpunk universe, getting a tattoo removed should be easy. If you can get blades in your arms and can have a completely newly reconstructed body in like an afternoon; you can get a tattoo removed in like twenty minutes. So, V still keeping it, says volumes about how they really feel.

Now, V’s jealousy and the date. 

I do absolutely agree that any anxiety or ill feeling V might have up until the date; Johnny is gonna feel, but not realize where it’s coming from. I think if anything, he’s gonna chalk it up to V being anxious about giving him control again and he’s gonna be like worried that maybe V doesn’t trust him as much as they let on. 

And I do think a V who has feelings for Johnny, would not be able to help feeling some jealousy regarding Rogue and Johnny. Just because jealousy is natural thing to feel and while you can debate if they were ever a good or healthy couple, you can’t debate they shared very real feelings for one another. And I think a lot of V’s jealousy would come from just how much Johnny seems to first think of/go to Rogue. When he needed to save Alt, first person he turned to, Rogue. When he wanted to bomb Arasaka tower (going by his memory of it and ignoring that the event was probably actually planned by Morgan Blackhand), who’d he go to? Rogue. When he becomes determined to get Smasher, who is he determined to get him with, Rogue. When he first decides to atone for his past mistakes, who’s the first person he wants to make up with, Rogue. When at the rooftop, who does he want to go grab to help him save V, Rogue. 

If you got feelings for someone, that’d hurt, I think it’s impossible for that not to spark some jealousy. And V if anything is also mad at themselves for having those feelings, because they like Rogue, she’s a badass, a legend, they respect the hell out of her. And of course they have feelings for Johnny and they wanna help him make shit right and they wanna give him a chance to enjoy himself. But this stupid reptilian part of their brain is screaming but i want to be the first person he goes to, the first person he thinks about, which they know is also stupid cause for fucks sake the man literally lives in their brain, they’re as close as two people can be and literally when Johnny has the power to go to someone for something, he can’t go to V because they’re reduced to sleeping essentially until Johnny hands back the reigns. Yet, feelings aren’t aren’t always, rational, sadly. 

And to Johnny’s credit, he probably doesn’t even give it that much thought. Rogue is a badass, someone he cares for, someone he can depend on and someone he hurt really badly. The two people he can and always has been able to depend on the most (other than Alt prior to her death) have been Kerry and Rogue. And, bless his heart, the fuck is Kerry gonna do? Kerry ain’t a merc, Kerry isn’t gonna bust into Arasaka Tower or plant a bomb. Kerry doesn’t have the connection to Smasher. So, of course, Rogue is gonna be his go to. And in terms of making things up to people...he literally cannot really do much to make things up to V, not the way he can for Rogue or Kerry. Cause, when him and V are both conscious, he can’t do much beyond touch and talk to them. Hell, even with Rogue and Kerry, he relies mostly on V to help him do anything. Even with people he can interact with and do something for; V is doing all the nitty gritty work for him. V drives Rogue to the theater, V breaks into the theater, V gets the projector going. V breaks into Kerry’s house, V disables the security. V gets in contact with Nancy. V gets Nancy out of Totentanz in one piece. 

Which probably if V actually thought about it critically, does mean he’s going to them and relying on them more than Rogue, but they’d probably dismiss it out of it being for necessity and not because he cares about them and feels he an depend on them. 

Anyhow, Johnny would probably love to do some nice gesture to make up for his bender to V, hell they probably were the first person he wanted to make things up since they are his catalyst for changing. But what feasibly can he do for them? Anything he’d want to do with/for them, would just be asking V go do this thing and i’ll also be here. Anything that would put them in public interacting is out, unless they want MaxTac called on V for looking cyberpsychotic. He can’t even do an at home date, because he can’t cook (engram or not) and he can’t buy them anything nice he has no money and also doesn’t technically exist. He could try to do so sneakily while he’s in control...but he’d be using V’s money so they might as well just buy it for themselves. he can play music for them,,. but that doesn’t seem too special and more than a little egotistical to think it’ll make V feel better about what he did... So... all he can really do, is prove he’s worth trusting by being on his best behavior and more importantly do what he can to save V’s life. 

Then there’s the date. And as usual, I have some opinions and feelings about a thing.  Like, okay, I’ve seen some people (aka Gamer Bros on Twitter) being like, Rogue is Johnny’s girl. Wanting to date either of them is wrong because they like each other. (then you also get the BUT ALT crowd, but rants for another day.) And I can’t help but ask, did we play the same date? Their entire date is about how they’re both desperately clinging to the past. Rogue is trying to reclaim 2013-2023 Rogue and Johnny just wanting for a night to feel like the world and his place in it haven’t been completely rearranged. And it ends with Rogue telling him, she is not that girl anymore, she can’t pretend to be, and frankly she doesn’t want to anymore. She wishes she could be, wishes she was still that tall haired street punk who’d never dream of working with corps or being a fixer, but she’s not. Her and Johnny are no longer the same people who met back in to 2010’s. Doesn’t mean they don’t care about one another and doesn’t mean what feelings they had weren’t real or important; but they’re just not those people anymore. Rogue more so than Johnny since he’s freshly on the course of change.   

Something else in regards to the date, that I think is important to talk about and how it relates to silverv and its something I personally have very conflicting feelings about. The fact that Johnny can initiate some physical intimacy with Rogue. See, I have never chosen the option to kiss Rogue during the date and actually did not learn until relatively recently, that if that choice is made it goes a biiit further than a kiss. I have watched the scene now.

And god I have mixed feelingssss. Like, I get it, but I’m not sure I like it. And I know full well, my silverv bias impacts my feelings on the matter, it’s be disingenuous to say otherwise. But I don’t think the ship is purely my reason for having these feelings. But at the end of the day, its all opinions. So, I get from a character perspective that Johnny and Rogue are trying so hard to reclaim their past and what they use to have that they get caught up in trying do what they would do if this was the 2010’s. And Johnny’s relationships as we’ve seen are very physical, sexual chemistry and attraction are major factors in his relationships because he kept things very superficial most of the time. He even says part of the issue with his relationship with Rogue is at the time he didn’t realize he could let her see the true him and still hid behind walls, kept things at a distance. So, the idea that’d they fall back into the old habit of trying to just be physical and ignore their feelings, isn’t out of character. 

However, and Johnny even seems to acknowledge this issue when Rogue interrupts it, they’re doing this with V’s body. V...who did not consent to sexual contact. They consented to a date and while one could logic that this would mean everything a date could entail up to and including physical intimacy; I would argue that that is something that would need further conversation to have clear consent. And like again, this might come down to boundaries and personal feelings. Because I go back to the bender and what’s been interesting to me is too see different opinions on it; some people weren’t actually bothered at all by Johnny’s bender in V’s body, some people were bothered by the drugs and alcohol specifically cause their V is straight edge. Me, personally, it was the sexual content and the endangering of V’s life. Like, it was mostly funny and oh yeah, I expected that it’s bad but eh I’ll move on, to me, until he started getting sexual with people in V’s body. Like that to me is not just crossing the line, it’s catapulting over it. 

And like I said, Johnny even responds to Rogue’s “this isn’t fair” with “what, you mean it’s not fair to V?” which she says she meant it isn’t fair to Johnny. (Which viscerally upset because you nearly used V’s body for sexual gratification without their consent and you’re worried about Johnny, which tbf Rogue has no way of knowing what V has and hasn’t consented to, so its not on her but that was my knee jerk thought). So, he has some awareness that maybe that was a bad move. 

And yeah, it definitely to me and my V would be a very bad move (unless he explicitly talked to them beforehand and got consent). And in general, it made me feel like, dude, you just promised you’d be better and not break V’s trust but again not a day later you’re nearly using them to have sex. It felt like a backslide, which isn’t necessarily unrealistic, cause change and growth is not always linear, people can commit to changing themselves and still fuck up and not get it right; in fact it’s rare for them not to have any sort of backsliding or repeating of mistakes. 

Again, I will also give credit that he could have been assuming that given V consented to the date, they assumed or were cool with their being physical intimacy between him and Rogue. He also generally, might not have really planned for it to happen, because I don’t think Johnny plans a lot of anything. It very well might have just sort of happened. Also, V doesn’t clearly communicate if the sexual component was an issue in the bender. All V really seems to have an issue with in game is the very general thing of; he misled them and used them. So, he might have assumed that wasn’t ever an issue. And hell, if you wanna go full meta, the player is technically the one who makes that choice and V is largely an avatar for the player, so that alone could be seen as whether or not V would/does consent. 

But, from a story perspective, removing the player choice element. I think how that’s handled would have a huge impact on silverv and where it goes from there. 

Because if V and Johnny did talk about consent prior and V did consent while having feelings for Johnny, god I’d have to imagine they’d still feel pretty hurt, but feel it’s irrational to feel that way and have put their own feelings aside because clearly Johnny cares about and wants Rogue and they should ruin what could be his one chance to make things right. 

If there like in game was no talk of consent and Johnny ends up kissing and touching on Rogue and V finds out or has memories of it surface,that could be devastating for them. Not only from their own feelings for Johnny, but this since of betrayal and hurt. Was the oil field conversation just a lie? A manipulation? V might feel like they were used; that Johnny never gave a shit about them or how they feel. And Johnny would have to deal with the realization that intentionally or not; he earned back V’s trust just to destroy it again. He fucked up again, he ruined everything again, he got his second chance and destroyed it…. And he doesn’t know how, if he can, or if he should bother trying to ask for a third. In general, I do think, V would come out of the date assuming (naturally so) that Johnny really only has romantic feelings towards Rogue, that they’re just a friend at best, a host to be used at worse. I even in my own universe with my V have them after everything is better, everyones got a body, expects Johnny to start pursing Rogue and trying to swallow their own feelings and be a supportive friend, try to encourage and push him to do it and Johnny’s just like please stop, Rogue is this close to murdering us both.

I was gonna add more funny stuff to this and include a shitposty interaction he has with my V over them dressing up for the date and shit, BUT HOLY FUCK THIS GOT LONG AND SAD????? I’M SO SORRY.

[redhoodieone]

Wrong Number

Plot: The reader accidentally texts a wrong number when trying to text her best friend. But this stranger doesn’t want to stay a stranger to her and the two of them engage in a texting relationship. But what happens when the reader wants to meet this Jason Todd? Will he be everything she wants, or should they just stay texting buddies?

This is technically the 1st part in a series I want to do. If this is well received, I will continue on. However, this could also just be a one-shot.

Warnings: Language and some Sexual Content. Bold is for Y/N. Italics is Jason.

This has to be a joke. I can feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment, even though I live alone and there’s literally no one around to see me right now. But what I’m staring at is something I never thought in a million years I would ever have to see in person:

Vibrating panties.

Of course, the packaged gift is from my so-called friends who are sick and tired of me being single and horny all the time. I suppose whenever we all go out to drink or party, I could be a loner and isolate myself from the typical discussions of hook ups and current crushes.

And to get back at me, I’m stuck with a pair lacy black panties that’ll “supposedly” make me cum.

Beyond angry and shaking from humiliation, I send a very pissed off text message to my best friend and a picture of the sexual gift I’m stuck with.

Is this some kind of evil, twisted joke to get back at me?!?! What am I supposed to do with this?!?!

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest when I grip my phone tightly in my hands. A text message alert sounds surprising fast.

Sexy panties...but you’ve got the wrong number, doll.

I immediately freeze. Oh shit! I was off by 1 number when I was texting in fury at my so-called best friend.

I’m horribly embarrassed once again.

Omg! I’m so sorry!

That’s okay.

The purpose of those vibrating panties is to make you cum, in case you didn’t know.

I gasp in shock at the bluntness from this stranger!

Excuse me????

You were asking about what to do with them. In the first text message? I was just answering your question.

And you know so much about vibrating panties, right? So, what are you? Some kind of panties expert???

LOL. You would be very surprised, sweetheart.

The stranger sends me a picture along with that text message. A picture of the same product I have that they Googled online and took a snapshot of the details.

And trust me, I’m an expert and my partners never need this when they’re with me.

I feel my cheeks heat up.

Whatever. Have a good evening.

I roll my eyes. I don’t think this stranger will even text me back. Who knew texting a wrong number would cause me all this awkwardness and red cheeks.

Same to you.

I toss my phone on the couch and force myself to go heat up some leftovers for dinner, and to push the Wrong Number Stranger out of my head for the night.

————————————————————————

There’s a chill in the air as I walk through crowds of people on the sidewalk. It’s almost winter here in Gotham, and everyone’s dressed in scarfs, jackets, and pants. Pushing my way through talking strangers, I quickly rush into the coffee shop for warmth and treats.

Being the third in line, the familiar ding from my cell phone catches my attention.

Did you figure out how to use the vibrating panties yet?

My eyes widen at the text message from the Wrong Number Stranger.

For your information, no. I don’t need them. It was a stupid, mean present from my friends.

Ah, really? Presents like that are usually fun and helpful.

Meaning what??? Are you assuming I don’t have a sexual life going on right now???

Well, considering you’re so against the gift and you’re shying away from talking about the panties, I have to assume you’re single and you have been for a very long time, and you’re very easily embarrassed by anything having to do with sex.

I instantly frown at that message, until they text me a second one.

Look, that came out very harsh. I don’t personally know you, and you don’t personally know me. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t shy away or avoid anything sexual. I guess it’s because I’m comfortable with it and I’ve been told I’m a Sex God more than a few times.

I have to exhale hard and shove my phone in my back pocket to have both hands free to carry my coffee and blueberry scone to the table to sit and eat.

Pulling my cell phone out, I see they texted me again.

I hope I didn’t scare you or make you uncomfortable. If you want me to stop texting you, then I will.

I don’t know why but my fingers begin to type back even when I know I shouldn’t keep talking to someone I don’t even know at all.

It’s okay. I don’t mind talking to you.

I feel myself smiling a little as I send another text message. What is wrong with me???

My name’s Y/N Y/LN.

My name’s Jason Todd. And I don’t mind talking to you either.

I like the name Jason. For some reason...it fits you. And it’s good to know your name since I had you saved as “Wrong Number” on my phone lmfao.

Well, Y/N is a gorgeous name. I don’t mind changing your name on my phone even if it means “Sexy Panties” is going to be Y/N now LOL.

Jason even uses the laughing crying emojis that has me laughing hard. I can see he doesn’t text like other guys, because he tries hard to spell correctly and use correct grammar.

Maybe he’s an avid reader and an English major?

And for the first time today, I smile for real.

————————————————————————

I was in the middle of cooking spaghetti for dinner when my phone binged. Picking up my phone, I see Jason texted me.

Have you ever wanted to punch somebody in the mouth and knock out all their teeth, and make them swallow their tongue?

I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

Not necessarily. Why? Are you planning to do that???

It’s fucking stupid, really. Sometimes I wonder why I’m still around this damn family.

I’m sorry to hear that. If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here for you.

I can see the three bubbles on my screen indicating he’s responding to me. My heart beats fast.

It’s just...my dad, I guess.

His dad?

He’s not really my dad. He’s not blood related to me. He adopted me when I was just a kid, and ever since then we’ve been at each other’s throats.

Is he mean to you?

Sometimes. But I guess I can be mean to him, too. It’s just hard to be the kind of guy he expects me to be. He’s a lot easier on my brothers. Sometimes I wonder if I should just give up and leave.

This is the first time we’ve ever gotten deep with each other. I feel my heart beating slow and fast at the same time whenever we speak. His vulnerability and sensitive side is refreshing; the egotistical and cocky side isn’t entirely him.

I’m really sorry. I don’t exactly know what to say. But from what I know about you, I wouldn’t give up. You’re not a bad guy, Jason. If you’re trying hard to be good, then that’s just as good as being good in the first place.

The three bubbles at the bottom make me nervous. I wonder if I crossed the line. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to Jason.

You really believe that?

I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it.

For some reason...you believing in me makes me feel better.

I smile a little at that. I even feel a little better knowing I’m helping him in some way.

That’s good. I’m happy to know you’re okay.

I turn my attention to turn off the stove when I see the spaghetti sauce is hot enough to pour onto the soft noodles. My mind quickly turns to Jason. Would we ever hear each other speak on the phone? Will we ever send each other pictures of ourselves? Will we ever meet in person?

I know I want to meet him. For some reason, that thought doesn’t scare me even if I know he could be a serial killer and want to kill me.

But wanting to see what he looks and sounds like makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy. Is it even normal to feel this way?

My phone beeps. While serving myself a plate of dinner, I glance down and see his text message that stops my heart.

Do you ever think we’ll meet each other?

[stillebesat]

Wanted

Sanders Sides: Remus, Roman, Logan, Janus  Blurb: Remus knew one thing for sure. No one would ever want to Want him.  Inspiration: from This Post by @recipe-for-thomathy  Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort, Medieval!AU  Warnings: Fire (mention), Throwing things, Breaking things, Captivity/Slavery, Weapons Taglist in reblog. 

The door slammed open with far more force than even Remus was willing to use on it. Mostly because he knew from past experience how difficult it was to rehang that door after striping out the screws in the wood and snapping the hinges more than once.

“What did you do?!” Roman demanded, striding into his work space in his full regalia of King’s Guard. 

Huh. Come straight from the palace? That was different. Remus smirked, keeping his attention on the furnace in front of him, slowly spinning the rod and its molten glass load within to keep it from dripping. “Do?” He shifted his feet to get a better angle, the iron chain around his ankle that kept him from wandering away from the shop clinking softly as he moved. “Plenty I suppose.” 

It was him they were talking about, but to his credit he’d actually been pretty productive today instead of destructive. “Made six vases just this morn--”

Roman took out a scroll, letting it fall open. “You’re on a WANTED poster!” 

His heart skipped a beat at that, though thankfully, Remus didn’t drop the rod. He actually liked the neon green glow the glass was giving off this time. Maybe he could use it to create something far more interesting than a boring stagnant flower holder. Maybe he could make another pair of---no. It would be best to stay with creating the same old same old for a few more days at least. No need to draw any attention to himself.  

Remus drew in a shaky breath he hoped his twin didn’t notice as he glanced to the poster held in his brother’s hands.  

It would be best to not think about what he’d done last night. 

A once in a lifetime opportunity. 

A breath of freedom. 

A dream come true. 

His one and only Cinderella moment where it had felt so right to do what he did. 

Like he’d finally found his calling in life.

And if Remus had any dignity or common sense left he’d stomp down on that siren call and wouldn’t seek to draw any further attention or be anything more than a boring humble glassblower’s apprentice from here on out or he was sure his heart would actually shatter if he ever saw that particular smile again. That particular spark in the eye. That-.  

Remus pasted a smirk on his face, forcing the memory away. 

A dream should remain a dream. 

He raised an eyebrow at the figure on the paper as he pulled the rod out of the furnace. “Ehhhh. That’s not me.” He said, moving to the bench so that he could grab a block to continue shaping the glass. 

If it weren’t for the moustache -drawn a little larger than the little bit of hair he currently had on his upper lip thanks to a small accident with fire earlier in the week, Remus would have thought it was a portrait of Roman since the figure’s hair lacked the tell tale silver streak that marked him as an evil twin.  

No. Roman was the one with the muscles. The one with the handsome smile. With the knighthood. With his star rising insomuch that even foreign dignitaries were falling over themselves to stay in his good graces.

Remus...was just…himself. Stringy hair, crooked smile, multiple scars criss-crossing his entire body from previous beatings and accidents in the forge. Who only had enough strength in his limbs to work glass instead of far more durable, sturdy, and useful materials like wood or iron. 

After all, Glasswork was quite the useless skill when they were in the middle of a war with the neighboring country and needed blacksmiths to create more weapons rather than glassblowers to make pretty cups for parties.

No. Remus let out a slow breath, placing the block back as he returned to the furnace to ensure his current project didn’t harden before he was finished. 

There was a reason why the silver streak had marked him instead of his twin as the evil one. The bad guy. The one who could do no good despite the very obvious proof that Remus could accomplish some good or else no one would be buying the glass objects he created. 

No one seemed to mind that he’d been marked as evil so long as he didn’t go too crazy in front of the patrons when they came to get their stupid little paperweights, flower vases, dinnerware, and sun orbs.

Of course the cursed chain around his foot did a lot to assuage any of their fears of him running rampant. 

If only they knew just what he had done last night. Just where he’d gone. How he’d freed himself from the stupid chain for a few hours to bring--to bring---a gift….to---

“Not--” Roman took a step forward, armor clanking. “It looks JUST LIKE YOU!” 

“Looks just like you too, or did your big fat egotistical head forget we’re identical?” Remus shot back.

Mostly identical. Even if he didn’t have the moustache, Remus was certain people wouldn’t ever mistake them for each other. As kids...probably, but he’d never know for sure since his--their mother chose to leave him out in the woods to die and be found by slavers instead of doing the sensible thing and dropping him off at the orphanage with all the other rejected evil halfs. 

Roman had only been a thorn in his life for the past six months or so after stumbling into the shop while breaking up a brawl that had started at the pub up the street. That was hardly enough time for them to even begin to get to know each other, let alone their quirks. 

Even then, with their on and off brief interactions, Remus knew that Roman only kept coming to see him more out of a morbid fascination of how his life could have been different if he’d been the one born with the silver in his hair rather than wanting to form a genuine familial connection with his long lost twin.

Roman scoffed, resting a hand on his sword. “You know it can’t be of me! I know better than to risk interrupting the peace talks going on at the palace!” 

Remus rolled his eyes, returning to the bench. Peace talks. A freaking ball was now considered a part of those never ending peace talks? They might as well parade the visiting Prince and his entourage around the streets again every day for a month instead for all the good those peace talks were doing. 

At least the foreign Prince was someone different to look at when he did come through town.

And…despite the rather accurate portrayal...Remus couldn’t see why a Wanted poster would be created for him. It wasn’t like he’d hurt anyone. It wasn’t like anyone knew who he was. Not when he’d come in disguise! He hadn’t even talked to anyone beyond---and that was only to explain his--the...gift. 

Unless showing someone how they could see far more clearly was now a crime. No. Remus had had his moment to shine and then he’d returned to the forge like a good obedient mutt to his hovel and destroyed the evidence--most of the evidence--without anyone being the wiser.

“Remus. I know--”

 “No you don’t!” He snapped. “For all you know, maybe we have a third twin brother running around because why would you think it would be me on that Wanted poster, Oh Highly Favored of the King, when I obviously can’t go anywhere?” Remus purposely kicked his foot so the chain trapping him in this place rattled, the sound echoing through the air as he picked up his second favorite tweezers in a shaking hand. 

Not that he intended to use it. No. Not now.

Wanted. 

His brother had managed to...emotionally compromise him and that wasn’t good for working with glass. No it was only for destroying it. A pity. He truly had liked the color on this one.

Remus kept his head down, acting like he was still working as he rolled the pipe back and forth to keep the shape intact. “When, unlike a certain free born goody-two-shoes, I’ve never been wanted in my entire life?”

The Master Glassblower didn’t even want him. Remus had only ever been considered a tool to be used until it wore out. A slave brought in to be worked to death and only taught glass blowing because the greedy old miser wanted more product on his shelves and had to admit as he aged that he couldn’t keep up with demand nor stay near the heat of the forge for as long anymore.

Lucky him, Remus had actually shown a talent for the craft. He could only imagine the sloppy blobs that would be on the shelves now if the Glassblower had bought any of the other slaves on the auction block. 

So long as it meant more gold in his coffers the Master hardly cared whose work was selling. And when the war happened, he’d allowed Remus to keep the shop open while he was off aiding the war effort in the forges nearer the front lines. 

And with him left in charge of the shop...it meant that Remus had finally been able to create what he wanted to create. To experiment. No one was there to stop him. To tell him what to do. To care. 

“What do you mean you’re not wanted?” Roman took a step forward rolling up the poster. “I--”

Remus snarled, hurling the molten glass like a spear in his twin’s direction, watching as the glass on the pole shattered upon impact with the wall, before focusing on the way Roman had stilled, hand flashing to his sword, eyes wide.

Give him a break. He knew better than to throw something directly at his twin, not if he didn’t want to die on the spot for attacking the King’s own personal guard. 

He turned away, tossing the tweezers onto the bench. “If YOU wanted anything to do with me brother you wouldn’t have left me chained here when you first found me!” He clenched his hands as he crossed his arms, resisting the urge to continue destroying things. “You wouldn’t keep coming back to stare at me like I’m a freaking circus act while you pretend you want to get to know me. You. Don’t. You Never Did. So DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT I’M WANTED.” 

No one had truly wanted to see him. Not even with that particular unbelievable encounter last night. It didn’t mean a thing and would never happen again. A shooting star only ever shown for a blink of an eye before going out. 

“Remus.”

Roman had no right to sound so--soo pitying!! If he’d wanted to change things he could have. But he hadn’t. 

“No need to rub it in Mr. Perfect. I know I’m not wanted. How could I ever forget when Evil Twin has been my label my entire life?! So take your stupid Wanted poster and Get. OUT.”  

Get out before he lost the remaining shreds of his self control and actually hurt him. 

The door behind him creaked as it slowly opened. 

“Remus, please. You have to know that wasn’t--”

So Roman did want to see the forge destroyed today. Fine. FINE. He snatched up another rod with a snarl and whirled only to drop to his knees, rod clattering to the ground as he pressed his face into the dirt, heart pounding harder than a hammer to an anvil in his chest upon seeing just who was standing behind his brother.

In retrospect the uniform should have clued him in that his twin hadn’t come for a social visit. Or alone. 

“Ah.” Roman cleared his throat. “My High King Janus. Visiting Prince Logan.” He said formally. “May I present to you...my twin brother, Remus, apprentice glassblower to Apollos, a Master Glassblower who has gone to the front lines to assist the other Smiths there.”  

Remus closed his eyes, pressing his lips tightly together. He was so screwed. No wonder the portrait in the poster had been so accurate despite his disguise. The High King could see deceptions around him as easily as a bird could fly. Of course he’d see an evil twin in disguise and keep an eye on him. Especially after what he’d done--but Remus had been sure he’d escaped notice right after---after----

And to have the Prince--Prince Logan...right here...in his shop---he hadn’t expected to ever see those glorious green eyes again, let alone see the Prince still wearing the glasses that Remus had created and gone to the palace to give him last night.

“So.” 

Remus flinched as footsteps approached him, the silky voice of the High King ringing in his ears. 

“This is our little forge rat who disrupted the ball last night?” 

Disrupted?! Remus fought back the protest rising in his throat, fingers digging into the dirt. Sure he’d stolen the Prince away for a moment to ensure the glasses properly fit. That the Prince could see through them. But he hadn’t disr--He’d been very careful to be good! Even created a fashionable enough garment with colored glass in order to blend in with all the nobles decked out in gemstones so large and heavy it was a wonder the richies could move at all. 

He jumped as warm fingers trailed down his cheek. 

“I would hardly say he was disruptive.” Prince Logan remarked as he lifted up his chin, the corner of his mouth twitching when he met Remus’s eyes, his own no longer narrowed in a squint but wide open with wonder as he traced the lines of his jaw. “Nor would I say that you’re not wanted either, Remus.”  

Remus gulped, heart pounding even harder in his chest. It wasn’t fair how his name on the Prince’s lips made fuzzy embers spark in his chest.  

Logan gently tilted his head back, his thumb running along Remus’s moustache. “There was a reason why I stayed up all night with the royal painter to ensure that your portrait was accurate. And that was so I could find you as soon as possible. But I see,” His green eyes sparked with delight, his other hand raising to adjust the thin wire frames sitting on his nose. “That I was not quite as accurate as I wanted to be, but I suppose that can be forgiven considering my distraction at how clear the world has now become for me thanks to you.”

“You are certain.” High King Janus asked, hands hidden in his gold silk robes, head tilting to study Remus like a hawk studies a mouse as Roman came to stand beside him. “That he is the one you seek, Prince Logan? That he is the one who gave you...sight?” 

“He is.” The Prince confirmed without hesitation. 

The High King raised an eyebrow. “I find it hard to...believe that one born with silver in their hair could be--”

“Remus is the best glassblower I’ve ever encountered, my King.” Roman said, raising his chin as the High King turned to him, unafraid to look him in the eye. “If anyone were to create the ability to see from blown glass, it would be him.”

More fuzzy embers fizzled around Remus’s stomach as he side eyed his brother. Roman...actually thought he was good? At glassblowing? He’d never said anything before--

High King Janus hummed, waiting until Roman broke eye contact before again returning his eagle stare on Remus, golden eyes glinting in the light of the forge. “Considering your own skills, Sir Roman, I would be unsurprised that your other half would be just as creative in his own right. Even more so if he is to be the bridge that finally brings peace to our kingdoms.” 

Remus blinked, fidgeting in place, his fingers digging into the dirt so he wouldn’t try and touch the Prince because he liked his hands too much to lose them. “Bridge?” He asked before he could also tell his tongue that talking was a very good way to get it removed with a hot poker. “What bridge? I can’t--” Surely they didn’t expect him to build a bridge from glass! How would that even work to bring peace? The thing would shatter with one wrong strike of a horse’s hooves! 

Logan smiled. “You can, Remus.” He said before gesturing for Roman to come forward. “Free him.” He commanded.

Surprisingly, his twin didn’t hesitate, quickly moving forward with his sword drawn as he focused on the chain around Remus’s ankle. 

It really wasn’t fair to hear his name spoken like that! Like he--like the Prince actually cared about him. 

Remus fought to hold still, to not look away from Prince Logan’s forest filled eyes to see what his twin was doing with the lock and if it was the same method he himself had used last night to free himself.

“I want you to come with me.” Prince Logan said softly, stroking Remus’s cheek as he maintained eye contact. “To my kingdom. Let me show you how much we want you there. Need you. Your gift with glass, there are so many of us, so many who would fall to your feet to see as you’ve shown me to see. Come with me, Remus.” He dropped his hands again to Remus’s dirty ones, squeezing them gently. “And I will guarantee that you will not regret it.”

Remus made a noise of disbelief, frozen in place, unable to comprehend that these...that the Prince---No one wanted to be around an evil twin!

And yet.

Prince Logan had yet to draw away or show disgust or revulsion upon discovering that he was the evil half.

“If you go with him, the war will stop.” High King Janus intoned. “Both sides will withdraw. Peace will finally be reestablished in both lands.” 

The war would stop? Over him? It didn’t--

Remus drew in a shaky breath as the chain around his ankle that had been his constant companion the last four years fell away with a soft clank for the second time in the past twenty-four hours as Roman took a step back with a faint smile his eyes shimmering with--was his twin actually about to cry? Over him?!  

“But you--you don’t even know me.” Remus whispered as the Prince pulled him to his feet, guiding him outside to the waiting royal carriage. To--to dare he say it? To freedom if he so chose to take it.

“No.” Prince Logan agreed, giving him another smile as he once more adjusted his glasses, the lens flashing in the sunlight. “But I want to.”

[oflgtfol]

like, i acknowledge that i’m biased here, but i think astronomy research should always have funding. astronomy has always paved the way of technological innovation that can be applied to many normal things in your daily life, and it provides an alternate perspective on ground-based scientific issues (ie, NASA’s vested interest in observing climate change from space, despite climatology seeming to not have any sort of intersection with astronomy). and of course there’s always the far-off (or maybe not so far) threat of an asteroid impact to where we need an escape off earth in order to ensure the survival of our species…. but honestly even besides all the tangible results i just think it’s important in a, spiritual? cultural way? in the same way that libraries not only provide tangible resources for their communities, the fact that libraries exist at all are a strong sign that we as a society value knowledge enough to invest in these institutions for no other reason than that knowledge is important. which is such a strong value to have, and if you say that it’s not worth the cost then you’re frankly out of your mind. anyone would look at you like youre crazy to say that knowledge isnt an important value to uphold. LIKEWISE, investing in astronomy research is important for the exact same reason - yes, it has tangible results for society at large, but it’s also important to fund for no other reason than that knowledge is important. astronomy helps us better understand not only the vast universe around us, but also even the small world we live in. it is knowledge for knowledge’s sake and you’re out of your mind to say that isn’t an important endeavor!!!

BUT. that does not mean we should be funding astronomy over other public programs like, i dont know, making sure people have fucking food and shelter. astronomy is so so important in a spiritual, cultural, historical, scientific way, but ultimately it DOES produce less tangible advantages than spending more directly for the public good. you wouldn’t spend money on books before food, right? so funding libraries, astronomy research, etc before actual like, food programs would be insane

but the thing that gets me is that the two can coexist. the government spends comparatively SO LITTLE on scientific funding, especially for astronomy, that any arguments that the space program is a waste of money that could go towards the public good is always in bad faith to me. especially because astro funding pretty much is only ever going towards like, three telescopes. three telescopes, for the entire damn US astro community to use, and that the entire worldwide community will ultimately benefit from too! three measly telescopes is all we ask for and it is a drop in the bucket compared to the *COUGH COUGH* MILITARY BUDGET. when you complain about the public space program as something that diverts funds from public good programs it is always deeply suspicious to me because you’re basically arguing to defund libraries instead of taking like five pennies out of the inflated military budget to basically solve hunger in the US

…….. but then you have these private companies that do go so above and beyond in a gross way. they aren’t looking to fund three measly telescopes. no, they want to fucking colonize mars entirely. it’s huge. it’s egotistical. and it is so wildly expensive. and those same funds could go towards basically solving hunger damn near worldwide but instead they’re going towards these absolutely INSANE endeavors that we are in no position to pursue yet as a whole species. fucking colonizing mars when we haven’t even landed a person on the moon in decades. and then you have people who conflate funding astro research (the realistic research such as like, constructing new telescopes) with funding fucking planetary colonization, and they argue that the two are the same and the two are both equally worthy of funding at this point in time - nay, they even say that planetary colonization is MORE important than the realistic telescope approach!!! and it’s just so . ugh

TL;DR astronomy is SO important to fund and arguing otherwise is deeply suspicious to me. but also you have to recognize WHAT astro research is being funded. it’s so important to fund the projects that are actually doable at this point in time, such as telescopes and preliminary exploration such as landing on the moon or mars temporarily. any funding that goes towards permanent settlement other than earth IS in fact, that gross waste of money that people love to accuse the humble little telescopes of being

[writingfromkitchenator]

Loki ~ Evil

Alphabet Challenge Masterlist (700 Followers)

Masterlist

Based on an imagine found here by @thefandomimagine

Words: 1,285

Warnings: Neutral Reader, staring, teasing

The first time that Loki had noticed, he’d been rather amused.  The second, had peaked his curiosity.  The third, you were absolutely mortified when he approached you about it.

You swore that it wasn’t intentional, that you hadn’t meant to be staring, but Loki knew better, his smirk telling you as such.

It wasn’t till the fourth time occurred, at a rather loud and rambunctious party, that he really pushed it further.

Loki smirked, feeling your eyes on him as soon as he entered, but he didn’t make his way to you straight away.  He had every intention to drag this out for as long as possible, mostly because he was also proving a point, but he did also like having your undivided attention.

He joined Thor, stealing the drink out of his hand.  “Any louder and with the right drink, this would be exactly like parties back home.”

Thor grumbled a little at the loss of his drink, but it soon disappears into a smile.  “Still not enough fighting for that, although the drink can be arranged if you pass back mine.”

Loki grinned and shook his head, taking a sip.  “Maybe later, I have much more…interesting matters to attend to.”

He looked confused for a moment before he quickly scanned the room for you, finding you exactly as Loki had said you would be, staring at him.  Embarrassment flooded your features and you quickly broke away, doing your best to go back to the drink in front of you.

Loki chuckled as Thor looked back at him surprised.  “I told you.”

“What are you going to do about it?”  Thor asked, his surprise turning to curiosity.  “Now Loki, I do hope you aren’t planning anything extreme.”

He raised an eyebrow at his brother as he finished the drink and put the empty cup back in front of Thor. “Extreme?  I intend to be a perfect gentleman, whether any of you think I can do that or not.”

Thor stared at him.  “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

Loki smirked, turning away. “Absolutely.”

Your eyes were on him again as he left Thor’s side, and your embarrassment only grew when you realised that he was heading straight to you this time, and you did your best to drag your gaze away.  It was difficult to focus, despite a conversation going on around you, and you really were silently hating yourself for making it so damned obvious.

“Y/N,” Loki greeted you with a grin and held out his hand.  “May I steal your attention for a few moments?”

You stared at him, almost mortified, even more so when there were several giggles behind you.  “Um…”

“Looks like we’re due new drinks,” Natasha said, getting up quickly, not hiding her smile.  “We’ll be back soon Y/N.”

Wanda just giggled as she followed, Clint shaking his head with a smirk, and you were left glaring after them as Loki chuckled.  You looked back at him, and saw him still waiting patiently for your answer, although there was no hiding his amusement.

“I’m beginning to think there’s a few conspiring against me here,” You said.  “It’s been bad enough having them say something to me about it all night.”

“That wasn’t my doing, I assure you,” Loki said, smiling.  “I’m that cruel.”

You sighed and took his hand, despite yourself.  “You know people are going to talk about this.”

“You mean more than what they already do upon seeing you unable to take your eyes off of me?”

Groaning, you let him lead you away from the party, but kept your gaze away from him as best you could. “It’s not funny Loki, I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

Loki chuckled again, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.  “I told you last time, it’s an endearing quality and absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.  If I were you and you were me, I’d probably stare too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Now that’s just being egotistical.”

“You just need to learn to be more subtle,” He said, opening the balcony door for you, letting you step out first.  “Then we could have all sorts of games.”

Staring at him as he closed the door after the two of you, you really wondered where he was going with all this.  “Look Loki, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in some way, but I promise that the staring was not my intention, as I explained last time.  I’d really much rather not sound like a broken record over this and-”

“And dig yourself further into a hole?”  He asked, raising an eyebrow.  “The more you ramble, the more obvious it becomes you know?”

You folded your arms and tried your best to glare at him.  “I’m not trying to do anything, and you need to understand that.”

“Really?”  Loki asked, disbelievingly, a slow smirk coming to him as he took several slow steps forward.  “So am I to just assume that you just find me unbearably attractive, but beyond that, have little interest in anything else about me?”

Your thick swallow gave you away, watching his approach, although holding your ground.  “Yes.  You’re too evil for me Loki.”

He laughed softly and shook his head.  “Being evil has nothing to do with this Y/N, and if I’m not mistaken, this started before I joined onto this little gathered crew of yours, when I was still technically your enemy.  Would you like to try again?”

You stared at him as he stood before you, subconsciously realising that the two of you had somehow stepped into a part of the balcony where no one could see the two of you, far too close together.  “You and that bloody suit are going to be the death of me.”

Loki chuckled, spreading his arms out and turning in a circle for you.  “Should I stop wearing them then?”

Fighting back a smile at what you really wanted to say, you shook your head.  “Absolutely not.  Who would I ogle at then?  I mean, a lot of others do pull it off, but certainly none quite like you.”

“That’s because no one else is like me,” He said, reading the amusement in your gaze, and something that was undoubtedly a spark of mischief.  “If they were, then whatever would you do?”

“Go mad,” You said with a shrug.  “Honestly, I’m still considering it now.  Or ending it. Whichever puts my embarrassment to an end quicker so I don’t have to deal with you evilly getting this out of me.”

Loki laughed, his fingers gently brushing your cheek, more than pleased when you don’t flinch away.  “I told you last time, you walk far too easily into things, I’m hardly going to let you just end things, or go mad.”

You couldn’t help it, the smile finally tugging at your lips as you held his gaze, a silent thrill going through you at his touch.  “This isn't an ending, it's the beginning.  Seeing as I am just so hostage to your good looks.”

“Oh, there are many other reasons Y/N,” He said, leaning close, letting his lips hover just over yours. “But you’re going to have to work hard to learn exactly what those are.”

He stepped back with a smirk as you went to close the distance, smirking to himself as he held out his hand instead, ignoring your silent glare.

“Come, dance with me.” He said.  “We can start things from there.”

You rolled your eyes, and took his hand.  “See what I mean?  Evil?”

Loki just laughed, leading you back inside, knowing as he did when he had first noticed, that you were going to be a lot of fun to have around.

[spiltscribbles]

Oooh! Prompts! Remus and Sirius moving in together please! 💛

Notes: Thank you SO SO much gorgeous<3 I’m like kinda embarrassed that this is kinda shit, especially because you’re writing is so fucking gorgeous, so I’m sorry.

.-

A Reblog Is Worth A Thousand Stars  |  Send Me A Prompt 

.-

“YOU!”

With a start that almost makes him drop the vase in his hands, Sirius turns around to find his surly looking  boyfriend glaring daggers straight at him, lips pursed and nose wrinkled ever so fetchingly. “Me?”

“You!”

“ Is this a Muggle game of semantics or something Moons, because for the life of me I’m not following.”

Remus’s glower only deepens, radiating a distinct sort of disapproval that could only ever be  honed in by years of prefectness. “You thief!” He squawks, hands perched on his hips, and mouth twisted up mutinously.

“Is this the part where you say I stole your heart?” Sirius goads with a cocked brow, resuming their unpacking.  “Because love, that line gets old after the millionth recital, but I do appreciate the spirit.”

“Wha? Na—no that is not what I was going to say you egotistical prick!” Remus scoffs— just a bit flustered with a dusting of pink touching the tops of his sharp cheekbones. “You ate the last spring role!” He accuses emphatically, almost tripping over the over a dozen boxes that are strewn across their newly furnished living room. Sirius can’t help but be endeared by Remus and his everythingness. 

“Yes, yes I did Wise Guy,” He confirms distractedly. “I also dipped it into some spicy mustard and drank a bottle of water while I was at it… Your point being?”

“My point you utter berk is that it was mine! I called dibs!”

“I remember no such thing,” Sirius sniffs haughtily, moving to rearrange the photographs  on their mantel. (And yeah, it’s still fucking insane to him that he’s become so domestic that he’s got a mantel over the fireplace that the man he loves more than any other had insisted was absolutely crucial to have if they were to move in together—probably for really romantical love making sessions in front  of it’s flames with the bliss of  no worries of anyone barging in on them, or griping  if they were being to loud—Which by the way, James honestly  had no right in complaining about considering his track record with his and Lily’s on again, off again mating ritual.

“Liar!" Sirius honestly  wouldn’t be surprised if Remus started stomping his feet right about now, and pouting up a storm if the childishly  cross expression    on his pretty face is anything to go by. (And honestly how could one man be so adorable and sexy all at once.)  “You were finishing up the shrimp tempura— because you are a posh idiot without any tastebuds— , and I said that I’ll be right back to get some of the boxes in the spare room, and to save it for me! And then I come here, and I find this! This breach of all we’ve built together!”

Sirius barely conceals his snort. “Is that right? The foundations of our whole, entire bloody relationship? And right after this afternoon, when I made you—“

Two spots of color blotch high on Remus’s cheeks and he cuts him off before Sirius can completely recount the frankly remarkable romp they had just finished with before deciding they needed some nourishment before getting back to unpacking. “Don’t you try to change the subject you stealing stealer who steals!”

“That insult leaves something to be desired Moonbeam.”

“You’re a prick.”

“And you wound me!” Sirius mock sobs, slamming his fist against his chest and swinging back his arm against his forehead. “A plague on you, and your family! And another on your family’s cow.”

Remus’s face morphs into his painfully unimpressed expression, (Hint, it’s very, very flat). “I’ll take your intentional dodge as an admission,” He scoffs, arms crossed tight against his chest.

“I admit nothing!” Sirius shouts in an overdone accent that would better fit the set of Downton Abbey. “Nothing Lupin!”

Remus rolls his eyes at Sirius’s hyperbolic attitude, and okay. Yes. Perhaps Sirius remembers a similar conversation akin to what Remus had described  occurring only ten minutes prior. But to be quite honest, Sirius was hardly listening. Remus’s got on one of Sirius’s oversized t-shirts, a pair of boxer-briefs,  and nothing else. So yeah, he should definitely not be expected to be paying anything any mind while his beyond gorgeous boyfriend is sitting there, impossibly long legs put out for display, and one perfectly alabaster   shoulder bare where the shirt has slipped right off, effectively derailing  Sirius's thoughts to how he’d teasingly kissed across his collar bone just earlier that night, nibbling on the hinge of his jaw while Remus had been  writhing beneath him. so   Really and truly, he should’ve never been expected to remember anything— let alone something as trivial as dibs—  if his utterly perfect partner is right there for the taking, a determined dent between his brows, and intermittently rinsing his hand through his disheveled locks of hair like  spun gold, excited  over the prospect of fixing up this flat that is now their home.

Dear Merlin above   does Sirius love this bloke with every fiber of his being.

“Well,” he relents, swaggering up closer to Remus so that they’re standing only inches apart.  “Even if I did remember that such a discussion had taken place how you’ve described it—“

“It did, and you know it Black!” He harrumphs, using Sirius’s  surname just to get a rise out of him.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now love, is There?.”

Sirius’s sure that he’s won the argument and they could just move on, until he catches the glint in Remus’s impossibly luminous eyes—a glint that always means trouble, a glint that’s never failed to make each one of Sirius’s nerve endings go ablaze.

“Is that right?”

“I reckon it is Moonbeam,” he leers, is momentarily distracted by the downright angelic smile Remus casts his way right then, but suddenly, an onslaught of fingers are piercing into his ribs, wiggling and tickling him into submission.

“Say you’re sorry!” Remus demands, an effortless grin of his own swept across his lovely face, brighter than the morning sun. And yeah, maybe Sirius should just admit that it was his bad, apologize a thousand times over in the form of lingering kisses and caressing hands.… But the thing is, Sirius’s  stubbornness  has always been too rigid for his own good, and he’s always loved prodding at Remus till He just went off like the world’s most darling firecrackers.

“Never you absolute wanker!”

“I won’t relent till you profess an apology to my satisfaction,” Remus scoffs— a playful giggle lilting his overly formal words.

“And I won’t surrender!” He parries with a leer. Sirius tickles back  harder, and Remus  shimmies around so much that He ends up jabbing him in the eye,  ramming straight into his chest, and  effectively sprawling them—all long limbs and crooked angles—onto the wooden floorboards.

“Just say you’re sorry!” He insists, strangled laughter starting to gargle his words while Sirius just gazes down at him, mercilessly besotted.

“”S not my fault you didn’t take it with you Lupin, i’ve committed no grievance.”

“Oh come off it pretty boy.”

“Oy! I’m ruggedly handsome you arse!”

“Testy, testy.”

 “You’re the pretty one.”

“Oh suck my cock.”

“Been there done that.”

Remus seems to be fighting down another laugh before he knees him lightly in the abdomen enough that Sirius tenses, giving Remus the chance to  switch their positions once again, so that  He’s back  on top. 

“My have the tables turned,” He taunts with one of his most dazzling smiles, dimples in full effect, and crinkles around his pretty sea glass eyes.

“I like how you think I’m at all opposed to this position,” Sirius says with a pixilated gleam, arching back enough so that their cotton clad dicks buck up against each other.

“Perv!” Remus scolds, smacking his chest playfully. “Now admit that I won!”

“Never!”

 Somehow, amidst all the thrashing bodies and choked peals of laughter, Sirius flips him over— slight body beneath his own, with Remus’s wrists pinned over his head and his legs wrapped around Sirius’s waste.

“Now, now Monsieur Moony, I reckon that spring has rolled into winter for you,” Sirius most definitely does not laugh raucously    at his own pun.

“That’s not even the direction that the seasons go in,” Remus frowns, nose wrinkled indelicately, a tell Sirius’s picked up on whenever He’s mad over an outcome.

“You still lost though,” Sirius barbs with no real bite, pecking a quick kiss to his lips in solace.

“You’re awful, and I’m breaking up with you,” Remus sniffs in turn—wiggling underneath him to try and get loose.

“Oh, you love me really.” Sirius preens like the cat who’s caught the canary— the world’s most beautiful and brilliant and ruffled canary that is.

“Lies and slander!” Remus waggles his tongue between his teeth, and Sirius dips down to bite it teasingly. 

“Hmm, now isn’t this cute,” the pair scramble away from each other, utterly stunned once spotting Lily of all people, gaze twinkling and lips set into a firm smirk, eyeing them while leisurely lounging against the door frame. 

“You two really can’t keep yr sodding hands off of each other, can you?”

Remus completely reddens, totally flustered, while Sirius only follies back a smug sort of grin at the force of nature  that is Lily Evans, his practical sister-in-law, remus’s best friend, and all around genius.

“How long have you been watching Red dearest,” Sirius asks wryly, making it so now Lily’s the one who’s flushing..

“I hate you Black.” She says shortly, and Sirius’s beam doesn’t falter. “Re, as your spiritual older sister—“

“You’re barely a month older Lils,” Remus interjects, but Lily just goes on as if he hadn’t.

 “I think it’s my job to remind you that he’s not the only bloke in London with a decent shoulder to waste ratio and nice hair. We can snag you someone with a bit of brains even.”

Sirius tosses her a V shaped salute, and Lily sticks her tongue out in retaliation,  but for his part, Remus only tries to cut through the tension with one of his friendlier grins, though it just comes out as an awkward grimace. “I forgot that you’re dropping off the boxes tonight.”

“Evidently Ace,” she snorts, strutting further into the apartment and setting down the box of photos Remus had asked her to bring over from their old place. “Far too busy snogging with the boy who single handedly received the most detentions in Hogwarts history, while also, somehow— by the grace of God— threatened our stances as top of the class.”

“Oy Evans, can’t take all the credit for myself. Jem was my better half, till he moved on to the likes of you.”

Lily ignores him, save for the way her pretty face gets a bit scrunched out of irritation. “Ace, I ask you, what would McGonagall say if she saw her favorite prefect gallivanting around with such a delinquent.

Remus lets out one of his rare and beautiful laughs, something that feels buoyant and is really more breath than sound, but is still so vibrant and splendid and it never fails to thrust Sirius back to the Hogwarts Express, where he and Remus had first met as a couple of wide eyed eleven year olds, and all the contradicting emotions Remus had provoked upon first sight. Wonder, and confusion. Intrigue, and diffidence. Wanting, and fear. It’s an attribute of Remus's that Sirius will never not be amazed by.

“Ah, Minnie my love, how I do miss her so, now where were we Moonbeam?”

“I’m still standing here Black,” Lily reproves with a scoff.

“I think it was about here,” Sirius continues, dipping down to kiss at Remus’s protruding  collar bones.

“Settle down mutt,” Remus rebukes with no real heat, a gentle hand carding through Sirius’s hair.

“God, you two are already an old married couple.”

“You really do know the best moments to interrupt sweetheart.” Sirius snipes with a playful roll to his eyes, his hand discretely resting over the small of Remus’s back.

“And you have no decency, corrupting   Remus the way that you do.”

“Okay first, I take fucking offense, you know better than me that Moony here was the mastermind behind most of our delightful pranks.”

“You mean your childish inconveniences you plagued on the unsuspecting public?”

“And secondly, we didn’t even get to the fun, currupting   part because of your oh so lovely interruption.” Sirius retorts moodily, though he soon suspects the joke was a wrong play to make  when Lily’s smile suddenly goes predatory and sHe flips back a lock of her wind blown curls, ready to pounce. 

“Well perhaps I just stopped by to make sure you weren’t further defiling   my dear Remus. But I guess that giant love bite on your neck proves that I’m too late.”

Sirius can’t help the chuckle that pours out of his lips at her needled observation, smacking a hand to conceal the hickey sHe’s taunting him about, knowing exactly where it is, it’s been a topic of teasing all morning long from a smug Sirius to a properly indignant Remus.

“He-he just marks easily,” Remus pipes out, cheeks completely infused red and worrying on his bottom lip. Sirius suspects that Lily just knew that the one chink in his armor is prodding at Remus’s less than poised acts. 

Lily rolls her eyes in a way that convinces Sirius that sHe doesn’t believe it for a second. “Whatever you say oh Saint Remus,” sHe smirks with no more argument. “but pray tell, are you guys about done swapping spit around me? Or is that going to forever be a regular occurrence in the Remus and Sirius show?”

“Now I’d reckon that’ll get a sold out crowd every night, don’t you?” Sirius asks, directing his question at the pair of  of them while taking Remus’s hand, and pushing him even closer— just always preferring to have some sort of contact with him.

“Oh put a sock in it,” Remus harrumphs, finally starting to return to his normal coloring in the midst of Lily’s unrestrained cackles.

“Aw, don’t be shy love, it’s only the truth.”

Remus presses the pads of his fingers to Sirius’s lips and glares at him for good measure, “Some things are better left for private.”

“Hah,” Lily scoffs, weight slung to her left hip. “As if I don’t get a front row seat every time  you two are within even in a ten foot radius of each other—OH hey, I know that look Ace! The one eyed squint, and the teeth. Well your “I’m about to kill my gorgeous best friend,” look has no place here, i’ll see my way out now. Just promise not to christen every room in this place, kay? We’d all like to visit without the residual specs haunting us! And I know how moody you get without your daily dose of my scintillating company.”

Sirius thinks that Remus’s trying to skewer a whole in the spot where Lily was just standing, if the terribly cross look on his face says anything. It’s precious, Sirius can’t help but snicker.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m your boyfriend for Merlin’s sake! You’re s’pose to be on my side!”

“I wasn’t laughing at you Moons,” he kisses the fingers Remus has still got on his mouth, mock consolatory.  “Just incredibly turned on.”

That dent between Remus’s brows is back again for a moment, but then his beauteous features smoothen out and He just pecks a quick kiss to Sirius’s lips before rifling through the box Lily brought over, muttering a light,”Whatever,” as He does so.

There’s a quick wrapping to the window, and Sirius glances over to find his owl— Odysseus— with a bundle of letters attached to his left leg. By rote, Sirius feeds him some of the pellets they keep  there for convenience, and unwinds the bundle of parchments, beginning to shuffle through them.

There’s a copy of the Nightly prophet with the murder of another Muggle family splattered all over the front cover in a sickeningly gauche manner, a free trial subscription to the Quibbler with a reading for Scorpios in the month of October, a letter from Peter about his mum and sisters driving him up the rails, an invitation from Marlene for he and Remus to come out to dinner with them for Dorcas’s Birthday, and a ominous letter from James of all paper that simply says a gift for Moony.

Bewildered to why he hadn’t just sent it along with Lily, Sirius tares off the attached photograph only to find something truly, horrendously vile. a photograph of himself. One that was definitely taken fifth year— Sirius’s worst year where he absolutely could not stand being around his family for a moment longer, and James was getting more settled with his studies, an Remus was dating that prefect prick from Ravenclaw and was exceedingly elusive from Marauders nights out.  This was so obviously taken on one of those aforementioned nights out that it’s comical.  Sirius’s hair is as long as it’s ever been— touching the tops of his shoulders— and he’s chugging down a fruity, pink concoction— the type  that Rosmerta was always cooking up for them— hand over fist, and he’s got on puppy ears and a fake nose. In layman’s terms he looks like a complete and total pillock. Drunk off his ass so much so that you can see the stars in his eyes even through the clunky glasses he had stolen from James— convinced that he was sporting them for purely esthetic reasons and not because the knob is actually as blind as a bloody bat— and his finger is pointed and mouth is open in the way it always is when he’s ranting about something or the other.

It’s perhaps the only photograph in history where Sirius isn’t looking his typical, jaw dropping gorgeous self.

There’s about a thousand different retorts he wants to scribble on a spare parchment and  shoot right back to James— ranging from nasty to downright despicable— but then he catches the familiar peal of laughter coming from behind him. He’s not surprised when he sees Remus—beautiful, ingenuous, perfect Remus who’s physically incapable of taking a photograph less than effortlessly lovely, even while pissed— peering over his shoulder in utter amusement.

“Oh My God I need to ask James to send me one of the hundreds of copies he surely has.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sirius retorts darkly.

“I’ll use an enlarging charm and hang it up above the mantel, for prosperity. The one time Sirius looks the way he acts,” he moves his hand over an invisible marquee and looks so damn smug that Sirius could kiss him, and in fact, that’s exactly what he does.

“I hate him,” is all he says afterwards, once he’s pulled away.

“I can’t believe that’s you!” Remus continues with eyes full of mirth.

“I want to banish him, no. No I want to banish all of them. All of our friends, we can make knew ones Moons. I mean look at us! We’re a catch!” He tosses the letters onto the newly acquired sofa as if they have personally affronted  him and all he stands for.

“ Oh brilliant idea love.”

“That sounds like your sarcastic voice Moons.”

“No, you’ve got my full support. this’s our castle Pads, we can banish whom ever we like,” Remus balances on his tiptoes,  and smacks an exasperated kiss onto his cheek. Sirius can barely contain the glee that’s dancing in his eyes at the thought of this being their own personal castle— a fortress just for the pair of them to escape within—  causing another swell of fondness to pound in his chest.

“Well maybe we can give’m another chance,” he relents, melting into how Remus’s locked his arms around his neck, and is smiling up at him with all the love in the world shining unadulteratedly in his lovely eyes. “I mean they did help us move all those boxes and all.”

Remus hums his agreement while he presses his forehead against his own, endlessly endeared.

“What a generous king,” He goads, words hugged with fondness. 

“Ooo, I like that, call me that in bed and I might bless you with my royal sector.”

Remus thumps his nose, “Your more tolerable when you don’t speak and just stand there being pretty.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty Moonykins?”

Remus shakes his head ruefully, the smile on his face one that Sirius knows well— one that means he’s reluctantly endeared. “Dork.”

“Plonker.”

There lips meet for another kiss and it feels like all the resplendence in the galaxy being distilled between just the two of them.