#but our manager's new and he's having none of it and it's upsetting her so she's coming to me

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 2

A/N: Highly requested so here you guys go! Enjoy!

<----part 1 part 3---->

DogDay led me outside of the Playhouse and back outside into Playcare. A few feet in front of us was a chicken. A tall yellow chicken. Ah, that must have been KickinChicken. “Hiya KC!” DogDay was still holding my hand but with his other he waved extremely fast to KickinChicken. “Sup DD! Hey, finally got yourself a helper now huh? ‘Bout time dude.” KickinChicken then handed off the kids too, I’m assuming his helper. His helper also matched him as well. Guess that was the uniform for us working with these...tall animal mascots.  

Kickinchicken walked up to me and DogDay. “Names Kickinchicken, the cool member of the Smiling Critters.” DogDay laughed when he said that. “Go on Angel, introduce yourself.” I wasn’t used to seeing animals so tall, it scared me a little. I held out my free hand to KickenChicken and summoned some courage to talk.  

“Hello, I’m Y/N or Angel, doesn’t really matter what you call me. Nice to meet you.” KickenChicken then slapped my hand with his and started to make a handshake with me. I mirrored his movements to understand this new handshake I was given. “Haha, she’s pretty cool DD, you got yourself a rad helper.” He then looked at me up and down. “Not bad looking either.” KickenChicken smiled at me. I was going to comment on that, but DogDay beat me too it. “Look at the time! You better hurry along to your group now KC, don’t want our little friends upset now do we?” “Right, well nice meeting ya Y/N, we’ll chat later.” he spoke as he walked back to his group and helper. DogDay squeezed my hand a bit before leading us to the center of Playcare. “On with the tour!” 

--------------- 

DogDay first showed me the statue in the center. It was all the Smiling Critters. There were eight of them in total: DogDay the leader, Bobby Bearhug the loving one, KickenChicken was the cool one, Hoppy Hopscotch the energetic one, CraftyCorn was the artist in the group, Bubba Bubbaphant the smart one, PickyPiggy the foodie, and lastly there was CatNap, DogDays bestest friend. He supposably makes sure that everyone else gets a good night's rest every day to ensure that they are ready for the next day.  

Next, we went into the Toy Store. DogDay was tall, so he had to walk on all fours. “This is where the children can come and buy some sweet toys of yours truly, and the others!” I smiled and looked around. Sure enough there were plushies of DogDay and the rest of the group. There were also some other toys like a blue limp doll, a dinosaur that matched the lamps outside, what looked like a cat and a bee mixed, and other toys. I picked up a smaller version of DogDay and looked at it. “You said the kids buy these?” “Uh-huh! We give them play money to use around here, that way when they get adopted, they’ll know about the real world and how to manage their expenses.” That was smart of them. I set the plushie back down and followed DogDay outside. 

We then looked at the consoler's office and school. DogDay told me that the consolers office was where the staff would put their belongings in and where parents would go to adopt a child. Only DogDay was allowed in the consoler's office, none of the other Smiling Critters could go in there. I’m not sure why but I didn’t question it. “The school is where the children spend most of their time. I’d take you inside so you could meet Miss Delight and her sisters, but I wouldn’t want to interrupt her teachings.” “That’s okay, I’m sure I’ll get to meet them one day.”  

--------------- 

It was now naptime for the children which meant that the Smiling Critters could step away and hang out all together and just relax. I was in the consolers office to check out my assigned office. Each helper had their own office to get away to when needed. Outside my door was a card that had ‘Welcome’ on the front. I picked it up and walked into my new office. I took a look around, nice office, however what stuck out to me was the big dog bed in the corner.  

I was about to walk over to it until I heard a knock at the door. I set down the card and opened the door, but no one was there. Suddenly DogDays head popped out from the side. “Hiya Angel!” “Ah-” I fell back in shock. As I laid on the floor DogDay hovered over me with a worried expression, his sun pendant laid against my chest. “Angel?! Oh gosh I’m so sorry! Are you okay??!” I did a double-blink and then slowly sat up. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just wasn’t expecting that at all.” DogDay then held out a paw towards me to help me to my feet. I took his paw into my hand and once my hand met his paw his tail started to wag. He pulled me up to my feet and got close to me.   I wasn't used to being this close to anyone, let alone a giant dog so I started to blush. This caught DogDays attention. “Angel your face is really red, are you sick?” I was starting to feel bad, not physically but mentally. I didn’t want him to be worried about me. “I-I’m fine! Really DogDay. So, um what brings you by?” I wanted to change the subject as fast as possible. DogDay then smiled and leaned away from me. “I wanted to see if you liked the card we made!” I went to my desk, picked up the card and opened it. ‘Welcome newest helper, we hope that this job brings you happiness and joy as we do to our children here. We look forward to working with you, signed everyone.’ I did like the letter. 

--------------- 

Me and DogDay started chatting for a while until out of nowhere, I yawned. “Oh my, sorry about that.” Guess I was starting to get a bit tired. “That’s okay Angel. There’s thirty minutes left of nap time; you should rest up!” A power nap did sound good. I nodded and told DogDay that he should go back to his friends, but he shook his head no and picked me up and walked over to the dog bed in the corner. Should’ve known it was his.  

“I’d rather spend my free time with you Angel, plus as your boss you have no say.” He stuck his tongue out and booped my nose with his paw. My face got warm again. He then laid down on his bed and laid me in between his front paws. “You can rest with me Angel; I’ve been told that I’m a very fluffy pillow.” He was very soft and the smell of vanilla on him was almost like a drug to put you to sleep, and it was working. I yawned once more and closed my eyes. DogDays head rested near me. “Rest well my Angel.” was the last thing I heard before drifting off to sleep.  

A/N: Thank you for reading!

#sinnersweets #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday #x reader #dogday x reader #part 2 #smiling critters

[ichorai]

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

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

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

words ; 32.0k

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

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

series masterlist. main masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understandably so.”

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

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

“By the beach. With Shiv.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The both of them struggled for words.

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

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

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

 Both you and Roman stared Shiv down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s like a beaten dog.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your words lingered heavily between the four of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. He was met with dead silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you? Really?”

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

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

There was a tense beat of silence between you.

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

“Okay, Rome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quiet settled over the group. 

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

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

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

Did he just compare you to a stuffed shirt—?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

“But not like-like her?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Romeo,” you dryly said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When you laughed, Roman grinned along with you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do. Yes, I do. Yes, yeah.”

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

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

“Tom.”

“Me? Uh, Pierce?”

“Yes,” said an exasperated Logan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Roman!” barked his father. 

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

“Stand the fuck up!”

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

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

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

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

“To smoke you out for Dad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crackling silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“How much is a gallon of fucking milk?”

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

“Greg! How much is a gallon of milk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ro—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t be mad.”

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

“Go to sleep, Rome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t trying to compliment you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Memories of last night made your nose wrinkle in distaste. 

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

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

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

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you coming?” he asked.

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

“Well… yeah.”

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

“Oh, you are? Fuck you,” he snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, mommy,” he teasingly replied. 

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

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

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

“Hello, dear. Hope you��re well.”

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

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

A gunshot.

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

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

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

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

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

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

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“No, I don’t. Where’s Tom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He texted you, over and over again.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Rome. You okay?”

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

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

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

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

“Hello? Rome? Are you okay?”

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

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

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

“I’m okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that because you’re dirty?”

“I am. I’m a dirty, dirty girl.”

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

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

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

“I’m… being sexy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already asked me that, Rome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?”

“She got turned on.”

“Uh, congratulations?”

“I didn’t like it.”

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

You could hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold it.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More silence. Labored breaths.

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

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

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

“Mmh. Night.”

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Romeo.”

“Mmkay, bye, fuck-face.” 

With that, the call ended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So… where’d you learn Latin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what about the tabloids on you?”

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

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

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

“That’s good to hear.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

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

“Mmh. Yeah, I’m feeling it.” You chanced a glance to Roman, who was staring straight at you with an impish grin. He saw right through your little facade—he knew you were miserable, and he was enjoying the shit out of it.

“That’s so good to hear. I knew you were different the moment I set eyes on you.”

“Wow. You really do have a way with words. Edgar Allen Poe up in here,” you joked loosely, trying your best not to sound deadpan. 

“You like Edgar Allen Poe, too? God, you’re like—fricking perfect for me. Excuse my French.” To your horror, Peter reached out to clasp your shoulder, steering you to a more quiet part of the room. “Tell me more about yourself. Things I don’t already know from the tabloids. What was it like growing up around the Roys?”

They were more of your family than your actual parents. They were the bane of your existence. They were everything to you. 

Before you could vocalize any of your thoughts (or, some poor, watered-down rendition of them), Logan shepherded the Waystar side of the group into another room for a short, private talk. You let out a long sigh as soon as you were far away enough from Peter, feeling your muscles loosen up. God, that man really did make you stiff in all the worst ways. 

“I think it’s going pretty well,” Roman said once everyone began filing through the door. “I mean, nobody’s fucked Nan or killed her cat by accident, so I think we’re doing pretty good.”

It seemed Logan didn’t quite agree, because he stormed up to his daughter, angrily demanding, “What the fuck did you say to Mark? Making cracks about his PhD?”

“It was a joke! He laughed.”

Frowning, Logan continued on, “He’s a yes, Shiv. He’s solid. Why are you even bothering him?”

The group began to then argue about Maxim, who Connor was supposed to persuade into the yes territory of the acquisition—which he was clearly failing.

“Cut the horseshit, know your roles!” barked your godfather. “Shiv, I want you on Nan.”

“Okay, Dad, we don’t have to be so schematic,” she protested, but her words went largely ignored.

Logan rounded on Roman, standing beside you. “Romulus. When you laugh, please do it at the same volume as everyone else. We didn’t get you from a hyena farm.”

“Thanks, Pop,” said Roman. You frowned, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

“The good news is that Nan seems to be spending money in her head—but she could still be swayed by her family, so every cousin counts,” Gerri added.

“Everybody, stay in your lanes. Who’s on Peter?” asked Logan.

“I got it, Dad,” said Kendall.

Quirking a brow, Frank said, “Actually, Peter seems to be rather taken by Y/N. I think it’s a good idea for her to keep him entertained. He’s worried the rest of us are barbarians.”

You crossed your arms uncomfortably, but nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

“Pimp her out, why don’t you,” scoffed Roman. 

“Good. Everyone got their person? Let’s go, people. Stay focused, stay sharp!” barked Logan, and everyone began to pour out of the room at his dismissal. 

Roman clapped a hand on your forearm. “Hey, uh, if Prickly Pete there does anything—” He made an unintelligible noise while pulling a sour face. “You know the drill. Stop, drop, and roll.”

“That’s for a fire, Ro.”

“Yeah, but it’ll freak him out enough to leave you alone.”

You spared him a sarcastic smile, shaking your head. “Great advice. Thanks.”

“No, but seriously—just say you have to go to the bathroom or something. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“Okay, Sauron,” you chuckled, shoving him away. “Go. Go and use your wily charms to seduce Naomi into making a terrible decision.”

It was his turn to offer you a lopsided grin. “That’s what I’m best at. Influencing women into years of regret.” With a click of his tongue and a wink, he was off.

 When you turned around, Peter was already waiting for you with an expectant expression. Ugh.

This was going to be a long weekend.

The Pierces were a strange family. Who the fuck recited poetry as grace before dinner? Nonetheless, you clapped with a polite smile once Naomi was done with her little poem. Roman rolled his eyes none too discreetly and you kicked at his leg beneath the table. 

On your other side, Peter didn’t hesitate to dive into yet another lengthy conversation once everybody began eating. 

“I like to have three novels and a memoir going at once,” said the man with a flirtatious smile. “It’s like natural selection.”

You forced a laugh—one that sounded genuine to everyone but the Roys, who knew you well enough by now to know that you weren’t amused at all. 

“Hm. I think it’s rather redundant to pit literature against each other in such a competitive fashion. Art is art is art, no?” you responded, quirking a brow as you forked a portion of salad onto your plate. 

You’d hoped that your comment would deter Peter from talking more, but your challenge seemed to only invigorate him. 

“A bit of healthy competition in a given field never hurt anyone. Pushes people to create better things,” he said, leaning closer to you.

“Mm, well, respectfully, I disagree. I think art—literature, especially—can blossom organically, just for the sake of it. The idea that creativity flourishes under competition is, frankly, just capitalist propaganda,” you said. 

To your dismay, Peter tilted his head and quipped, “Isn’t that a bit ironic, coming from you? Goddaughter of one of the richest men in the world?”

Your eye twitched. Beneath the table, Roman nudged your foot. 

“It doesn’t matter who I am. My point still stands, no?”

“I suppose we can just agree to disagree. I still enjoy reading several pieces at once… maximum efficiency, right?”

Another fake laugh.

To your surprise, Roman swooped into the conversation, “Yeah, I hear you, brother!” he chirped, trying his best to sound like an intellectual normie—he wasn’t doing a very good job, so far.

Peter spared him a glance, which made him lean even closer to you. “Are you a big reader?”

“Me? Oh. Yeah, big time.” No, he wasn’t. Roman couldn’t even remember the last time he picked up a book and read past the first page. 

“Can you recommend anything Oprah isn’t pushing? Any new fiction?”

For a moment, Roman’s panicked eyes met your goading ones. He began to laugh, but cleared his throat when he realized that Peter was genuinely asking. 

“Oh, right, yeah, sure I can… I, uh, rather enjoyed The Electric Circus.” 

“The Electric Circus?” echoed Peter in a rather pretentious manner. “Who’s the author?”

“Oh, uh, shit! Who was it… it was uh, Timothy Lipton. Yup. That’s him.” Roman was a terrible liar. You were getting second-hand embarrassment just listening to him. 

Catching wind of her brother fumbling, Shiv asked, “Yeah? What’s it about, Rome?”

“Uh, it is… about a young man making his way through the world. Except in two different time periods, so it kinda switches back and forth between—uh, yup! And—and the circus part is like, you know, a metaphor.”

Shiv narrowed her eyes. “For what?”

“Ugh. For the anxiety of modern life, Siobhan.” Roman only ever called his sister that when he tried to provoke her, or when he was exasperated with her antics. “Ask Y/N. She read the book. Ask her.”

Incredulous, you swung your gaze from your food to him, brows pulling together.

“You’ve read The Electric Circus?” asked Peter. His phone was in his palms. “I’m not seeing it on Google… Are you sure that’s what it was called?”

You began to fumble with your words, internally cursing Roman for throwing you under the bus, as well. God, he was going to owe you a million favors from now on. 

“See, uhm, it was a private little thing, uh—it hasn’t been published yet, exactly. Roman and I were just, you know, we were given the pages because we, uh, we were thinking of funding the novel ourselves! So, yeah… I don’t know why Roman would go and recommend that to you when it isn’t even available to the public yet.” You spared Peter a sweet smile whilst simultaneously stomping on Roman’s toes beneath the table. He retaliated by pinching your thigh.

“Oh. I see. Maybe when it comes out we can talk about it over a cup of coffee, then.”

Roman snorted. You sent him a half-hearted glare.

“Sure. That’d be great,” you told him before the man-child on your other side could come up with a rude retort.

Thankfully, Peter was quick to move on to another topic. Something about how mediocre the movies have been getting as of late. What an asshole. 

The conversation was cut off not too soon later by the white nationalist elephant in the room, as Rhea had so eloquently put it—ATN. Logan had vehemently denied sharing their fascistic beliefs, though the Pierces were clearly still skeptical of your godfather. Hell, even you were. 

There was more tense silence when Logan was questioned on whether or not Tom would stay on as head of ATN. The matter was never resolved, as he excused himself with a lame excuse of his sick dog having arthritis, pulling Shiv out of the room with him. 

You and Roman exchanged confused looks. 

By the time they came back, Tabitha was telling one of the Pierces about her willingness to help out her friend. “I’m thinking, like, if they can’t have a baby in six months, I’m just going to offer them my womb. Why not, you know? I’m young, I’m hardy.”

“Wow, Tabs, that’s really nice of you,” you told her genuinely, sipping on some water.

“Good for you,” agreed Marnie Pierce. “I had a friend who did that, it was so great—”

And then there Peter went, butting his fat head into the conversation where it was clearly not needed. “Uh, but if it isn’t too rude of me to ask, what about you two?” He gestured to Roman and Tabitha.

The blonde woman chuckled. “Oh, you mean us planning to have a baby? No, we’re not planning for a baby, because that would require us having sex!”

“Woah!” exclaimed Roman. “Hey, now.”

Peter grimaced. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Yes, you did,” said Marnie, and Peter only shrugged sheepishly.

“No, no, no, it’s totally fine, it’s just not our thing,” Tabitha replied. “We’re kinda like eunuch besties. It works for us.”

Scratching the back of his head, Roman cleared his throat. “She’s joking. Obviously. She’s kidding. We’re actually quite relentless in that regard. Just… fuck city out here.” 

You almost choked on the water you’d been sipping, the memories of a certain call you had with Roman resurfacing to the forefront of your mind. 

“You okay, Y/N?” Peter asked, lightly patting your back. 

“Fine. Just down the wrong pipe,” you winced. “And, you know, the idea of Roman and Tabs going to pound town doesn’t exactly whet my appetite.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” said Roman. “It’s unbecoming.”

Before you could snip back, the table fell quiet when Nan Pierce asked who would be taking on the company after Logan. Your godfather purposefully skirted around the topic, evading a solid name entirely.

Then, Shiv made the terrible mistake of announcing herself as the next CEO.

“Wait, uh, what’s happening?” Peter queried.

“Mmh. I think my life just ended,” Roman responded, looking every bit as shocked as you.

More flubbering from both Logan and Shiv. They were fucking themselves over, you could just feel it.

“You know what, maybe this dinner was a little bit premature. Seems like you guys are still working some things out,” said Peter. 

“No, uh, this is just some family hijinks,” Kendall tried to protest.

Marcia leaned in closer to Logan to ask, “Is this true?”

That seemed to be the last straw for him, because he yelled out, “Will you stop?”

More tense silence. Your foot rested over Roman’s, which was bouncing up and down rapidly beneath your heel. His hand rested on your knee, gripping a tad too tight.

“Well. I was just thinking that it’s such a beautiful, clear night out. Mark—would you like to guide us on a little after-dinner stargaze?” Nan asked.

And with that, came the end of the dinner.

“Did you guys know?” Tabitha asked both you and Roman as the three of you pushed away from the table to head outside. 

“No. No, I didn’t,” said Roman, still in shock.

You had a feeling, sure—there was no way it’d be Connor. Not Kendall, because of his recent endeavors with trying to take over the company, along with his substance abuse. It was between Roman and Shiv, and it didn’t take a genius to see that Logan didn’t think his youngest son was all that competent. That left only Shiv, after all.

“I didn’t know,” you simply said. 

The three of you strode out, leaving only Shiv and Logan left in the dining room.

“Those stars were really nice,” Tabitha said, lounging on the bed as Roman aggressively rummaged through the luggage in search of his toothbrush.

He was growing increasingly agitated about the idea of Shiv taking over the company, channeling his frustrations out on the poor suitcase for not presenting him his toothbrush on a golden pedestal. With a groan and a hand carding through his hair, Roman kicked at its side, sending the bag skidding against the wall.

“Ro,” Tabitha called. “I have a meeting on Monday, and I’d really love to deal with your neuroses and talk about it and everything but, uh, if you’re gonna lose your mind in here, I might just see if Naomi would let me crash in her bed.”

The man pulled on his face. He hummed once, then twice, as if he was deliberating over something.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s fuck.”

A disbelieving smile danced across her face. She thought he was full of shit. “Yeah, totally. We do the sex so well, so that’s a brilliant idea.”

Clenching his jaw, Roman clambered onto the bed. “Alright. Come on. Come here, you hot fucking piece of shit.”

He tried kissing her, but his nose knocked into hers the wrong way, his hand gripped at her shoulder at an awkward angle, and his lips fell onto only the upper corner of her mouth, barely even counting as a kiss. 

“Woah, easy there, wolfman!” She burst into a fit of laughter, and Roman pulled away with a string of insecure apologies, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, which throbbed from the impact. 

“That was awesome,” he bit out, lying face-down on the bed next to her. “I’m so fucking good at this. Sorry.”

“Yeah, you were, like, squeezing my shoulder really fucking hard—”

“Wasn’t that sexy? How I just took you? Bet you orgasmed like five times in a row.” Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Do you want to, though? Like actually?”

She smiled. “Mmkay. Do I want to…? Make love?”

He frowned. “Nope. Wow. I just—” A groan and a sigh.

Features softening, Tabitha reached out to rub at Roman’s back. “Hey. I’m not… uninterested in solving you.”

Roman turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we can make it, like… I don’t know… wrong?”

Tabitha was supposed to be dead. Which—and Roman thought this was quite obvious—meant that she wasn’t supposed to be wet. Now, there were a million and one ways for them to have sex and have it be wrong (like how it felt with you, maybe), but he’d suggested for her to play dead because… well, because he didn’t want it to feel like he was having sex with her. 

The very thought of fucking Tabitha didn’t sit quite right with him. He liked her a lot, and she was fucking hot as shit, but Roman just… couldn’t. He just couldn’t! Maybe she was right. Maybe they were better off as eunuch besties.

And so it came as no shock to both parties when the dead woman sex didn’t end up working out. Tabitha murmured that the morgue was closing for the night—and that she’d go wank off in the bathroom with her electric toothbrush as a makeshift vibrator. Roman apologized to her again, and curled up in the middle of the bed.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have sex with his girlfriend, like any other fucking person would?

After five minutes of wallowing in his own shame, Roman dragged himself off the bed and did what he knew how to do best: he ran straight to you.

When there was a knock at your door, you were ninety percent sure it was Roman. The other, more terrified, ten percent anxiously wondered if it was Sleazy Pete coming to talk your ear off some more about the latest developments in artificial intelligence. 

To your relief, it was Roman, clad in a loose white shirt and soft, dark pants. 

“Hey, Romeo,” you greeted, pulling him in and glancing out the hallway, making sure nobody was around to see. “Man, am I glad to see you. I was really scared you were somebody else.”

He made a high-pitched, humorous noise, crossing his arms as you softly shut the door closed. “Peter? Oh, no. He’s too high and mighty to come chasing after you so early. He’s the kind to date the same person for ten years, accidentally cum inside one time and knock them up, which then keeps them chained to his side for the rest of his life. You’re good for now.”

“For now?” You were ready to make another quippy retort, when you noticed the way Roman scuffed his bare feet into the carpet, hand scratching at the back of his head. Something was bugging him. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Huh? Nothing happened. Fuck off.”

Biting at the inside of your cheek, you reached out to him, holding both his hands within yours. “Rome.”

He parroted your name in an equally emphatic manner. 

You sat down on the bed, steering him to sit beside you. “Is this about Shiv?”

Oh. Right. He’d been so caught up with his guilt and shame over Tabitha that he’d momentarily forgotten about that other part of his life that was just majorly fucked over. 

Roman shrugged. “She fucked up bad, huh?”

You laid down, which prompted him to follow you, his head leaning on your shoulder. The two of you stared up at the ceiling together. 

“We all make mistakes. I think your dad probably led her on with a carrot painted with faux gold. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your long-time friend made a noise of agreement. 

Comfortable silence stretched thinly between the two of you. Roman faintly noticed that your hair was damp—you’d probably taken a shower after the walk. After inhaling sharply, he caught a whiff of your body spray: sweeter than fucking cotton candy and it almost made him want to puke. Key word being almost—Roman rather liked the smell. Especially on you.

“You smell good.”

“Mmh. Thanks.”

You arched your back, bones popping with your movement as you mumbled under your breath sleepily. Something within Roman stirred. 

“I tried to have sex with Tabitha.”

Suddenly, you weren’t all that sleepy anymore. “Oh? How’d it go?”

“I…” Roman winced. Saying it out loud made it sound so much worse, for some reason. “I pretended she was dead.”

“What?” There was a mildly shocked laugh to your tone.

“Consensually!” he vehemently tacked on. “But, you know, she was fuckin’ dripping for me, so… took the experience away, I guess. I don’t know. I like her a lot. I just don’t… I don’t…”

“You don’t want to have sex with her?”

Another shrug. Roman blew out a drawn-out exhale. “Yeah. I dunno.”

“That’s okay, Rome. You don’t need to have sex if you don’t want to, and you shouldn’t feel bad about not wanting it. That’s literally the definition of consent.”

A part of Roman seemed to melt with your words. Your affirmation that there wasn’t something wrong with him (or, at least that one trait of his, he knew there were several other parts of him that you’d consider highly immoral) relieved him more than he’d care to admit.

“Well… I do want it. I just don’t want it with her, maybe?” His voice went all soft yet high-pitched at the end of the question.

Suddenly, you turned your head to him, your nose only a hair’s breadth away from his. 

“Well, Ro,” you began, husky and low, “who would you want it with?”

He didn’t need to say it. You knew already.

“Who do you want to touch you?” you murmured, hand reaching out to skim over his chest, his stomach, grazing over the very top of his pants and toying with the band of his boxers. “Who do you want to make you feel good, Romeo?”

A low whine caught within his throat when you leaned forward to kiss up the column of his throat, nipping at the skin lightly. All of his sanity seemed to fly straight out the window when your hand dipped within his boxer, tugging out his semi-hard cock, languidly stroking along the length. He moaned, chest rumbling with the sound.

Your eyelids hung low as you nosed along his jaw, which strained with how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Mmh, you’re a dirty little pervert, aren’t you? Sneaking away from your girlfriend to rut your pretty cock against me. You’re a mess and I’ve barely even touched you, Rome.”

It’d been so long. So fucking long since someone touched him this way. Since he’d let someone touch him like this. Since he wanted someone to touch him like this. It was all you. Just you, and only you.

And so, it was no wonder that he was nearing his orgasm already, twitching within your grasp as he whined louder. He murmured unintelligibly, pleading for something he didn’t yet know. 

“Can you be a good boy and cum for me?” you susurrated, planting kisses over his jaw, his cheek, the bridge of his nose. You didn’t dare kiss him on the lips—you weren’t quite sure if that would be too far for your peculiar relationship. 

When he came, a loud groan erupted from his throat, which was quickly muffled when you clapped a palm over his mouth, his eyes flew open to meet yours, pupils fully blown, almost eclipsing the molten brown of his irises. You stroked him through his orgasm, murmuring a mixture of degradations and praises all the way.

You pulled back when he began to jerk his hips away with overstimulation, panting against your palm. The sticky spend on your hand glistened beneath the lamp’s warm-hued light, and you brought it up to your face to kitten-lick his cum off his fingers, humming in satisfaction. The sight nearly made Roman pass out. He swallowed hard, propping himself up on the bed on an elbow.

Voice hoarse, he croaked out, “Thanks. Do you, uh… do you need…”

Yes. You wanted it so badly—you wanted him. 

But you knew Roman wasn’t really in the right mindspace to reciprocate anything at the moment. And the guilt that weighed heavy in your stomach would’ve only been worsened if you’d pressured him into anything that he might’ve been uncomfortable with. 

Baby steps. The two of you had been taking baby steps in your relationship ever since you were, well… babies.

“I’m fine, Rome,” you told him, ignoring the drenched throbbing between your thighs and crawling up next to him to lay down. “You can repay me in the future.”

The haze from his orgasm was beginning to clear away. Roman’s nose buried into your sweet-smelling hair. “With, like, a fuckin’ Baskin Robbins coupon or my tongue up your vagina?”

A soft laugh and a shake of your head. “Both sound wonderful,” you told him, curling up into his warmth. A wave of sleepiness overtook you. It’d been a really long day. “Night, Rome.”

“Night, fuck-face.” 

You might’ve simply hallucinated it in your sleep-addled mind, but you could feel a faint brush of lips on your forehead, along with a whisper of thanks. You fell asleep with a smile on your face that night. Roman had taken a picture (with the flash on, which made for quite unflattering lighting) and sent it to you the next morning, giggling his amusing hyena-giggle while the two of you were in the bathroom—with you brushing your teeth and him perched up on the toilet seat lid. It was a tender moment of picturesque domesticism—a life that didn’t quite seem right for the two of you, unless it was with each other.

The rest of the weekend at the Pierce’s estate was uneventful. Everybody had gone home thinking the deal wasn’t going to go through—Shiv had told you her dad fucked everything by refusing to name her as the next CEO.

But, to everyone’s surprise except Logan’s, Nan Pierce ended up calling only a few hours later that she’d sell. You weren’t quite happy with the turn of events, but you supposed that’s just how it was with Logan. 

He always won.

Argestes, a business conference for important folk all over the world, was just under a month later. It was a rather prestigious event, the itinerary always decked with the most ludicrously rich and fanciful activities, with only limited invites handed out. 

This was to be your sixth annual year attending. 

You arrived with Roman practically draped over you, much to the press’ delight. After he made a snide comment about how manipulative you could be when it came to business, you bid him adieu, off to fraternize and mingle with potential allies you might need in your pocket. You were just grateful not to bump into Peter Pierce—the last thing you wanted to do was have him glued to your side for the rest of the weekend. 

The next day, when you’d just barely stepped out of your room, you got a frantic text from Roman. It was a link to a journal article about the cruise incidents, followed by a series of question marks and an indiscernible mash of emojis. The last text gave you the room he and his family were in. 

You rushed off to meet them there, checking your constantly buzzing phone along the way to see texts fly from dozens of people: Shiv, Gerri, your colleagues, your friends, your coworkers alike. This wasn’t a good look for the company, that was for sure. 

When you finally got there, Roman quirked a brow at you. “Have you read this? Tell me this isn’t the greyest shit you’ve ever read.”

“Give me a second, I’ve barely even woken up, much less had time to read the article.” You settled in beside him, opening up the link to begin reading. From across the room, Logan was skimming through a physical copy, glasses on the very tip of his nose as he mumbled under his breath. Shiv was on the other end, waiting for everyone to finish reading. 

Finally, you reached the end of the article, slumping back with furrowed brows. “This is, uhm, serious stuff but it’s also really unclear what’s actually being thrown at the wall here.”

“Maybe this, maybe that bullshit,” Roman uttered.

“Rome, careful,” said Kendall.

“Is this one of those things I need a woman to explain to me why it’s bad?” His head knocked into yours. “You tell me—is it bad?”

Offering him a shrug, you huffed out a sigh and scrolled all the way back up to read it again. “It’s bad, it’s fucking awful someone had to go through this—but in all honesty, I expected far worse for a journal article to blow up this much.”

Growing frustrated, Logan ripped his glasses off. “What’s the protein?”

A man you only faintly recalled as Hugo Baker, part of the Parks and Cruises sector, replied, “They found a woman, Keerson. She was working the cruises back in the mid nineties, and name-checked Lester McClintock.”

Gerri nodded. “She says Uncle Mo asked for sex with her and the other dancers to get their contracts renewed.”

“So they fucked?” Logan asked.

“It says sexual exploitation,” clarified Shiv.

“Said subject of the article is dead,” you chimed in. “So the blame on Mo will effectively be shifted onto Waystar. Negligence of ethical conduct, cruise malpractice, so on and so forth.”

A moment of silence filled the room.

“Well, what can we do about it?” Roman queried. 

Gerri said, “There’s not a lot of specifics. It’s not detailed. Cold hard facts: it’s one woman in the nineties, not twenty women four years ago.”

This made Kendall’s face sour, as he pulled the bill of his cap down lower over his face. “Great. I’m glad we’re so good at doing victim math.”

“Yeah, well, Gerri’s just saying it doesn’t necessarily punch through,” Shiv defended.

The older brother gestured to his phone. “Sure, but… this is not okay.”

“We know it’s not okay, that’s why we’re preparing a corporate response,” the redhead bit back. 

The conversation moved on to PR, which Gerri claimed to be Preston. This was met with Shiv’s vehement disapproval—they were three disgusting, old white dudes who, in her words, would just claim the women to be money-grabbing sluts.

“Call me sociopathic but isn’t this a tiny bit quaint in comparison to the past few years?” asked Roman. 

You bit down on the inside of your cheek in thought. “I think they’re hyperfixating on this right now because they see it as a gap in the chainmail. Mo is dead. He’s not around to bear the weight of blame on his shoulders.”

“We’re being punished for the sins of others,” claimed Logan. “No one real gives a fuck.”

You narrowed your eyes at the hot take. 

For once, you seemed to agree with Kendall when he shook his head. “No, no, we can’t be seen to minimize. I think we need to loudly and quickly say that this is not okay.”

“The question is, what would make it go away the fastest? Do we say it’s something and fix it, or say that it’s nothing and fuck off?” Gerri asked.

“Something,” pushed Kendall. “There has to be consequences.”

To your frustration, Shiv shook her head. “Nope. Condemn and move on. It’s just good advice.”

“Not to be the only frilly-pink feminist in the room, but this isn’t something to sweep under the rug. It may not seem that serious at first glance because of the vagueness but a few dozen women’s lives were ruined, and that’s just barely what we know because of the NDAs. If we ignore it now, it’ll come back to bite the company in the ass later down the line. The least we can do is compensate them, no?” you said, crossing your arms.

Sinking into a wooden chair that creaked beneath his weight, Logan threw his hands up. “This is bullshit. It’s all about me! It’s not real, it’s not honest. They don’t give a flying fuck for these poor bitches. They hate me! And I won’t be giving them the satisfaction of giving in. So no—condemn and move on.” 

You wanted to bury your face in your hands and scream. But you didn’t. You stood still and expressionless. 

They started discussing the panel for later that day. The original plan was for it to be Kendall and Roman up there, but having a woman up there would be much more… fitting given the well-timed article’s release. Shiv haughtily refused, but softened upon her dad asking her if she would. 

She’d think about it. 

And with that, the group began to file out. 

The hours trickled on by and before you knew it, there was only ten minutes until Roman and Kendall were supposed to go up for the panel. You were helping Rome rehearse through what he was supposed to say, even though you didn’t agree with the direction they were taking with simply condemning—it was better than not addressing it at all. 

It was all going smoothly until Shiv burst through the doors, declaring that she wanted to be up there for the panel, much to both Kendall and Roman’s dismay.

“Come on, man. It’s panicky as fuck,” said the eldest of the three. “It looks… kind of fucking cheesy, to be honest. Like we’re throwing our token woman at it? The woman who’s not even in our company?”

“Well, it can’t be two men up there right now. It just—it can’t. Right?” Shiv rounded her gaze to you, and you shrugged half-heartedly. 

“I don’t know, Shiv.”

Standing up, Hugo suggested, “Well, the audience is just expecting Roys, so—maybe we stick at two and someone relaxes.”

Logan’s gaze fell on his youngest son. “Romulus.”

“What? You want to pull me? That—that looks like a humiliation,” your friend heatedly defended. 

“We could just say you got sick,” Hugo said.

Both you and Roman made eye contact and you nodded at him to defend himself.

“No. No, you can’t just fuckin’ bump me ten minutes before the panel. That’s bullshit! Fuck that. Respectfully, dad, why is Shiv even here?” he hissed.

“I was invited,” Shiv replied in a serrated tone.

Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, no, I need to be out there. We need to hang together. You know, like, family.”

Rolling her eyes, Shiv drew herself to her full height. “Oh, so you wanna get Connor on the line, get him to come down here, too? Let him dog-pile on so no one’s nose gets put out of joint?”

“I’ll put your nose out of joint!”

“Oh, yeah, you should say that on the panel—!” Shiv pursed her lips. “If you wanna know what I really think—I think you should drop both of them and I’ll do it solo.”

This time, you were quick to say, “Shiv, I love you, but you’re not part of the company yet. To shove you up there alone would look like fucking… empty wokeness. Like we’re smothering the problem with estrogen and calling it a day.”

Roman nodded. “Pretty desperate, Shiv—exploiting the situation for personal gain, hm?”

The three siblings bickered some more until it grew quite cumbersome and repetitive. 

Two minutes until the panel.

Logan held up three fingers, and that was the end of that.

The panel was… certainly a panel.

It was a lot of dancing around the subject between Kendall and Shiv. You were pretty sure Roman had only said a grand total of two short sentences. 

“We’ll do whatever it takes, you know? We’ll do whatever anyone wants,” he had said. 

From where you were watching on a screen backstage, you face-palmed with a sigh.

By the end, Shiv had made the fatal mistake of implying that Logan should step down from his position, going so far as to call him an old dinosaur. 

It was a shitshow, painted over with glitter and rainbows. In all honesty, it was an embarrassment to even associate yourself with the company at this point. There went all your business schmoozing and fraternizing for the past two days—right down the drain.

“Nice. Bring your daughter to the slaughter. Did you tell the old dinosaur what you were going to do?” Roman asked his twin once the three siblings returned to the room you were in. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, ‘We will do whatever anyone wants?’ What the hell was that?” Kendall asked.

Shrugging, Roman clapped both his hands on your shoulders from behind, squeezing your tensed muscles. “Fuck it, right? It’s just words. There’s no press, anyway. Who gives a shit?”

It was then that Logan walked in, Marcia and Gerri in tow. Roman’s hands slipped away from you to go pour himself a drink and stand by his father.

“It was too much, Siobhan,” said their stepmother. “Dinosaurs?”

Ducking his head, Kendall nodded. “It was over the line. Shiv was over the line.”

Brows cinching, Shiv protested, “Oh, I think it was pretty clear that I was talking about—”

Roman interrupted after taking a long sip of champagne. “No, it was clear, yeah. You tortured the old dinosaur. Barbecued him alive—!”

In a blink of an eye, Logan swung around and back-handed his son straight across the jaw, bellowing out, “Don’t fuck with me!”

The hit rang loud and true across the room. Flesh on flesh, skin on skin, father to son, boot to dog.

Roman fell back with a muffled noise, and you were immediately shooting out of your seat to curl a protective arm around him, placing yourself between him and his aggrieved father. Commotion sprung out—Kendall vehemently yelling at Logan not to touch his brother as if he were a valiant hero, Gerri trying her best to quell the situation with reassuring words.

But all the noise was drowned out in your ears. It was just you and Roman.

It was like you were children all over again, watching with watery eyes as young Roman tried his best to pick himself up after Logan’s frequent beatings. You hadn’t even noticed that your eyes had welled up with a warbling film of stinging tears, heart slamming against your ribcage with staggering, uneven jolts. 

He hunched over, working his jaw and spitting into his palm a second later. 

A tooth fell past his lips, flecked with blood and spit. You could feel your lips twitch downwards as you tried your hardest not to cry.

Kendall flanked to his left, his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and Shiv stood in front of him.

“Rome—you alright?” they both asked. “You okay?”

He worked his jaw again, then shrugged off Kendall’s hand. He was in no mood to be coddled by anyone but you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fucking fine! Just fucking—leave me alone. I’m fine.” As you began to lead him away, he called over his shoulder. “It’s just a tooth. I’ll get another one.”

Once it was just the two of you in the hallway, Roman dropped the act. It hurt like hell, and he felt safe enough around you not to have to put up a front.

You tugged him into your room with a mildly haunted expression, fingers gripping far too tightly into Roman’s arm. He walked into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out. The water ran a dark shade of pink. 

As he gingerly began brushing his teeth with a spare toothbrush you handed him, you studied his reflection. He stared back, hating how worried you looked for him. 

“You want me to call a medic?” you asked, voice small. “There’s a few on site.”

Roman squinted at nothing in particular, humming. His tongue ran along the part of his gums that throbbed the most. It tasted like copper. A familiar taste. Nostalgic, even.

“No.”

“Do you need to be alone?”

“Fuck, no.”

You rolled a tissue into a tightly-packed bundle, telling him to bite down on it to stop the bleeding. He did as you told, but not without complaining about it tasting like ass. It actually tasted like nothing, but Roman wanted to make you smile. He hated seeing you so worked up.

With that, the two of you made your way out of the bathroom. You made him sit down on your bed and wrapped your arms around him, clinging onto him like a koala to a tree trunk. The both of you slowly kicked off layers of your clothes, trying your best not to break hold of each other in the process. Shoes first, then jackets, then pants, then button-ups.

You were left in a dark short sleeve and your underwear, and he’d tossed off all his clothes except his boxers. 

“The Argie awards are in an hour,” said Roman. His lips brushed against your collarbone as he rested his forehead onto the slope of your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have stripped down to nearly nothing if I was planning on going.”

“You’re gonna miss dinner. You’ll starve to death—and you won’t be allowed to blame me for it.”

“I have a banana somewhere in here. Plus—room service is only a call away.”

“Mmh. Mmkay.”

The tooth was still curled inside his clenched fist. 

“Wait,” you murmured against him, crawling off his lap to grapple for your wallet that you’d left on the nightstand. Roman murmured unhappily at the loss of warm contact, rubbing his palms up and down your legs. “I don’t really carry cash around these days but… I always keep a few spare coins in here.”

He watched as you fished through the slits, brandishing first a dime, then a nickel. Another dime.

Then you pulled out a quarter, grinning widely.

“I’m supposed to slip this under your pillow while you’re sleeping, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me get up for the rest of the night,” you whispered, crawling back to him and throwing a leg over his waist. He curled his own legs around you as well, leaning his weight into you. His head throbbed, his jaw throbbed harder, his heart throbbed the most. 

The cool metal of the quarter fell into his free hand. Then, he unfurled his fist. You stared down at the bloody tooth with unsure eyes.

“You have pretty teeth,” you told him after snapping out of your initial frozen state, pressing your nose into his uninjured cheek. “Even when we were kids, you had the prettiest pearly whites.”

Roman smiled, even though it ached to. “I remember you chased me around for my tooth once. Like a fucking freak.”

“Hm. You loved it, Romey.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he said, trying his best to be dismissive. Then, he craned his arm to place the tooth on the nightstand. 

You yawned, and he followed closely after you.

“It’s only eight at night. We’re falling asleep at fuckin’... fucking granny hour,” he grumbled.

A giggle, cut off by another yawn. “I don’t blame us. It’s been a long day. Sweet dreams, Romeo.”

“Night, fuck-face.”

“You know I love you, right?” you whispered. A light kiss to his throat as he swallowed.

“Obviously. You’re infatuated with me. Obsessed, even.”

If one was infatuated-slash-obsessed with the other, it’d most certainly be Roman.

You hummed and grinned into him. You didn’t deny his words, merely huffing with amusement. “I’m going to take your tooth and sell it on EBay for a hundred bucks.”

I’m fucking in love you, he wanted to scream.

“Fuck off,” he said. “It’s worth a million bucks at least. Shut up—stop fucking smiling, you freak. Go to sleep.”

You settled against him some more, and drifted off a few minutes later, listening to his heart beat from his throat.

You weren’t entirely sure what had transpired during the last few hours of Argestes, but there was one thing made clear: Nan Pierce had called off the acquisition entirely. You had no idea what to think of the entire situation anymore. You were just… tired of it all.

Not long after, a team had called you in to record a video message for Logan’s big fiftieth anniversary at Waystar. You were given very little time to figure out what to say, and so your message was short and sweet:

“Hey, Uncle Logan. I think we all owe you a bit of gratitude for giving half a century of your life to the large, ever-expanding field we call media. You’ve always been a constant figure in my life—heh, more constant than my own parents. I couldn’t imagine where I’d be without you. Congratulations, and I look forward to the next fifty years working by your side.”

It wasn’t over the top, and only slightly sugar-coated with falsities. 

Once you stepped out of the recording booth, Roman shot you a grin. “Cocksucker,” he teased. “There you go—something you and Rhea can bond over.”

You prodded his chest with stiff fingers. “Shut up,” you fondly told him.

“How’d you even get all that in one fucking take? They had me say ‘I love you, Dad’, like, ten times in a row.”

Before you could retort back, the two of you bumped into Shiv, who was typing away furiously at her phone. 

“What do you guys reckon—you think Dad is boning Rhea?” she asked.

With a snort, Roman strode away to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Can’t wrap my head around that. Too steamy. Too hot.”

“You are a walking Freudian complex, you know that, Ro?” you asked him, bumping his hips with yours so he’d move over as you fixed your own drink. “I don’t wanna think about it, honestly. Who my godfather fucks is really none of my business.”

“You’re just jealous. You want daddykins all to yourself!” said Roman in a sing-song voice, which made you purposefully step onto his toes. “OW!”

The hot coffee jostled over the rim of his cup and some of it sloshed onto his chest. He sent you a glare and you kissed his cheek with a sweet smile before moving off to sit next to Connor.

“Yeah, yeah, but we should, like, talk about what this means. We’re… we’re all sensing the shift, right?” asked Shiv.

“Gerri says she’s the new thing,” said Roman as he took a seat beside you, obnoxiously leaning back to drape both his legs over your thighs.

Connor lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, it just so happens that Gerri was the new thing a while back.”

“Mmh—Logan made it clear that she was more or less there as a placeholder,” you said, sipping on your cup, watching the siblings over the rim. “Come on—there’s no way Logan is handing the company over to a woman, much less a woman older than fifty. It’s a shame, because Gerri really could’ve been a great CEO had she been given an actual chance.”

It didn’t go past your notice to see Shiv’s face contort with dismay at your words. Not too long ago, she’d been under the impression that Logan was handing the company over to a woman—her. 

“I just think we need to be careful,” she said.

“Awh, what’s wrong? You all wedgied up because Rhea stood on your back and worked your arms like an elliptical?” asked Roman, which made both you and Connor snort with amusement.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, we should probably have a plan. You know, in case Dad does something rash.”

It was then that Connor was called away to record his message, and Kendall sauntered in just a minute later. His jacket and pants were noticeably rumpled and a pair of sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Only assholes like Kendall would wear sunglasses indoors.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted everyone.

“You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday—you want us to think you got laid. Nice try.” Both you and Roman giggled like schoolgirls, which only had the older man rolling his eyes. 

“Well, have fun discussing killing Rhea—” you began.

“There wasn’t anything about killing—” protested Shiv.

“I’m gonna head out. Gotta get some work done before the flight to Dundee. Which, is so fucking over the top, by the way. Even my parents are going for this. They weren’t there for any of my birthdays in the past twenty years, but sure, let’s go to Uncle Logan’s celebration for his fiftieth year working at Waystar.” You nudged Roman’s legs off of yours so you could stand up. 

Rome’s eyes widened. “Your parents are coming? Damn. Rhea really went all out, didn’t she?”

You frowned. “Feels more like a personal affront to me than anything. Not looking forward to seeing them, but whatever. See you guys later.”

They all murmured their farewells and you patted Roman’s knee softly before heading out.

Dundee was cold. So cold that you had to wear two layers of thermal socks, and your toes were still cold. Roman made fun of you the entire way into the hotel room, joking about icicles forming beneath your chin. 

Once you were finally inside, you cranked your heater up as high as it could go, shedding all your layers off with a grateful moan. It’d been a long flight, and you were exhausted.

Roman laid down on your bed, lazily turning his head to follow your movements as you flitted to and fro around your room, unpacking your essentials.

“There’s better ways to warm up than hanging your wrinkled button-ups,” he quipped. One of his brows quirked upwards in an almost seductive manner.

You laughed at that, fishing out articles of clothing from your luggage. “You’re all bark and no bite, Roman. Besides—you literally brought Tabitha to this event. Where even is she, anyway?”

With a shrug, he remarked absentmindedly, “Oh, she’s off exploring all the joys of Scotland.”

“So… grass and sheep?”

He laughed his hyena-laugh. “Yeah, grass and sheep.” Then, he propped himself up on an elbow to face you properly. “Did you bring a date?”

“Ugh. Didn’t want to bring one. Not with my parents coming. It’ll be a nightmare.”

Something in Roman’s eyes softened. “I would’ve been your date if, uh, if I hadn’t already asked Tabs. To be fair, I asked her before I knew about your parents. I can kick her back to America right now if you ask.”

You paused in your ministrations. “Stop it. I like Tabs. She’s nice. And I wouldn’t have wanted you to be my date out of pity, anyway.”

Roman lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug, lips pursed. “It wouldn’t be pity if I wanted to.”

A beat of silence. 

You blew out a sigh. “I’m really here for the image. I’ll say hi to my parents, and then avoid them for the rest of the night.”

“I can help you with avoiding them.”

“Hm?”

“Gerri wants me to secure funding for Waystar to go private. As a… back up plan, in case everything combusts into fuckin’ flames. She wants me to target Eduard. Seduce him, or whatever. You can come with—butter him up with all your oozy corporate rank and that—that pretty face on your face. He wouldn’t be able to resist if we double-combo him.” Roman shot you a lopsided smile that only lifted one corner of his lips. You pushed away the urge to coo at the fact that he called your face pretty. “Or… you can flit around with all of Dad’s cocksuckers and awkwardly bump into your parents two hundred times before the waterworks break out and you make an embarrassment of yourself in the middle of the celebration.”

Done with putting away your clothes, you made your way to the bed and sat down beside him, your shoulder pressed up flush over his. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Rome. Yeah, of course I’ll come.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can repay me with a blowjob.”

You laughed, but a small part of you wondered if he was serious.

“Any other ways I can repay you? None that could, uhm, potentially warrant a lawsuit?”

Roman scratched at his chin in thought. “Yeah, actually—what if we got, like, married?” His voice went all soft and high-pitched. Lilting. Tentative. 

Your eyes widened at first, then narrowed thinly. “What?” you asked, partially incredulous. He was joking, right?

Right?

“Not like—” He gestured aimlessly. “Not like that. Not actual marriage. Like something equivalent to that—like me chaining you down in the basement, or something. Like me kidnapping you and keeping you hostage.”

“Romeo, what the hell are you talking about?” You sat forward, your face all the closer to his. “In what world is that equivalent to marriage?”

Nervous anxiety clawed within his stomach. “Jesus Christ, I’m not talking about marriage. Just something on that fucking level of us being tied together. I don’t know, you chop off my dick, I chop off your tongue, whatever the fuck. You know, like, you eat me, I eat you—like they do in Germany.”

You were pretty sure that’s not what they did in Germany.

“You know what I mean.” His eyes were pleading, asking you for something you weren’t quite sure of.

“I… I don’t think I do?” You took one of his hands. “Rome, what’s going on? You’re being… weirder than normal. Did something happen with Tabitha?”

Because he was in love with you and he had no idea how to say it. 

The answer to Roman was simple: he just wouldn’t.

Hastily, Roman pulled away from your touch. He rolled off the bed in one single motion, almost tumbling over his own feet as he scrambled to the door. He tried to ignore your crestfallen expression watching him put more distance between the two of you.

“No, nothing happened with Tabitha. Just, uh—just think about it. I’ll text you the details to meet Eduard. Bye!” He was already halfway out the door with his last word.

You screwed your lips to the side in puzzled exasperation, and blew out a heavy sigh.

The pub was nearly empty, save for a snogging couple near the back, and a few scattered about the seats casually sipping their ale as they watched the soccer match on the mounted television above the bar. Amongst them was Eduard, standing out like a sore thumb with his crisp suit and his dark, slicked-back hair. Just the sight of him seemed to cost money.

“My God, you smell like cotton candy—I almost want to lick your neck. Don’t you want to lick his neck, Y/N?” Roman asked instead of greeting him like any regular person would.

You shot him a half-hearted glare before sticking your hand out. Roman had always been one to overstep boundaries. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Asgarov.”

“Oh, please, Eduard is fine. And the pleasure is all mine,” he languidly drawled, eyes darting up and down your form as a pleased smile curled the corner of your lips. He firmly clasped your palm in a handshake. “I’ve heard much about you—general manager… the glue of the company, some people say. But Roman never mentioned that you were so beautiful.”

A large part of Roman’s insides bristled with hostility, an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he plastered on a strained smile anyway. “Yup, yeah, forgot to mention. But, uh, yeah, thanks for coming, man. My dad’s going to be very pleased when he sees old friends and whatnot…” He waved the bartender over to order himself a pint, and added on a non-alcoholic beverage for you—he knew you didn’t like to drink during the day. Then, he caught sight of the television. “What’s this? Who’s playing?”

“Scottish,” replied Eduard, taking a sip of his own beer. “I’m thinking of getting in.”

 Your eyebrows raised a notch. “Mmh, smart choice. Lots of buried money in European soccer leagues.”

Eduard spared you a warm smile.

A frown crossed Roman’s features—he was starting to regret inviting you, even though he’d been the one to suggest you flirt him up. 

“Scottish kicky-ball,” he remarked. “Looks like two eunuchs trying to fuck a letterbox.”

His foul comment went largely ignored by the two of you. 

Eduard was certainly an attractive man, you thought once you watched his tongue draw out to run along his lips in thought. “I’m liking the look of Hibs,” he said, eyes trained on the television, flitting down to glance at you for a second. “Or Hearts. I’m undecided.”

“Hearts?” asked Roman. “That’s my dad’s team. The only childhood relic he can stomach.”

Hazy memories of seven-year-old you peeking over the expensive leather couches to see what your godfather was watching on screen came across your mind. It always cycled through the same three channels: ATN, soccer, and old black-and-white English films from the fifties. You never stayed for long, always darting out of the room in fear of him turning to see you there, watching along with him. But from the little that you did catch a glimpse of—you could only barely recall the green insignias and jerseys of the Hibs on the screen.

“I think he was a Hibs fan, no?” you asked, thanking the bartender when he slid your drink over. 

Roman scoffed. “Pfft—I think I’d know which team dad likes.” You didn’t bother trying to argue with him. After all, your childhood memories weren’t exactly the most reliable source.

With a half-minded hum, Eduard said, “I’ve got an agent in Spain. I buy the club, he loans me nine shit-hot players. Climb the ladder, take the second Champion’s League space, UEFA goes full European super-league, flip it, walk away.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds fucking slick, dude,” Roman replied, sipping on the frothy part of his drink. “Slicker than cum on a dolphin’s back.”

“You want in?” asked Eduard.

“Mmh, maybe. But before all that—can we talk about what we talked about before? You know, a major injection, or even taking us private. Have you talked to your dad?” asked Roman. 

A smile and a nod. “It’s a conversation we can have—I have total, three-sixty latitude to work on my father’s behalf.”

“Great. Yeah, cool. No, me too. Yup.”

He didn’t, but you wisely kept your mouth shut. 

“Weird, how much we’re the same,” said Roman, playfully punching Eduard’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you guys are practically twins,” you quipped, smiling over the rim of your glass. “Couldn’t tell the two of you apart.”

The dark-haired man tilted his head. “Buy them with me. We’ll split it fifty-fifty.”

“I, uh…” Roman spared you a look, silently asking you if he was being stupid with his rashness. “I don’t really see a downside, other than zero knowledge or interest in Scottish football. But, yeah! Hearts. Sounds fun.”

“Hibs,” you said.

Roman wrinkled his nose. “Hearts.”

“Hearts, it is,” said Eduard.

It wasn’t Hearts. 

After Kendall’s laughable rap song about—what was it—stanning his dad and calling him the OG, Roman had broken the news that he’d bought the Hearts club as a present for Logan on such a special day.

Logan fixed the three of you with a blank stare. 

“The Hearts?” he echoed.

Roman spread his arms, wiggling the tips of his finger in a sad rendition of jazz hands. “Mhm.”

“Hearts Football Club?”

Roman nodded.

Shiftily, Logan looked towards you. He always looked to you for clarification when he couldn’t understand his son—which was quite often.

“Uhm, Roman bought the Hearts for you,” you said, voice small.

“It’s your team, right?” Rome asked.

A beat of silence.

“I’m Hibs,” said your godfather.

You fucking knew it.

“You’re Hibs,” parroted Roman, his shoulders beginning to droop. “Really? Are you sure? I thought you were Hearts—I’m pretty sure you were Hearts, dad.”

Scratching at his chin, Logan softly said, “You know what, maybe you’re right. Hm. How would I know what team I’ve supported all my fucking life? Who knows—maybe I supported Kilmarnock. Or Fucklechester Rangers? I mean, how could I possibly know?”

Roman recoiled as if he’d been kicked. Eduard patted his shoulder, and brushed his hand along your lower back as he slipped away, chest burning with secondhand embarrassment. 

“Sorry, Uncle Logan, there’s just been a, uh, a miscommunication—” you said, hastily tugging Roman away. The two of you wove through the crowd until you got out of the large room, into one of the quieter halls. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, watching Roman frustratedly pace back and forth in front of you. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he snapped out, “I thought he was fucking Hearts, dude!”

“... I told you, Ro.”

He scowled. “Ugh. Shut up.”

Before you could ask if he could maybe switch somehow, two figures pushed through the doors, coming to stand in front of you. You tore your gaze away from the flustered man, fixing your eyes on—

Fuck.

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N,” said your mother. In her hand was a glass of wine, half empty. “You’ve grown quite a bit. Have you gained weight?”

She reached out, but you immediately stepped back, closer to Roman. 

After getting over your initial shock, you cleared your throat and tentatively responded, “Hi, mom. Dad.”

The couple gave you an awkward onceover. It’d been years since you last saw them, with maybe one or two texts exchanged every year for the holidays. Though, even that wasn’t a guarantee.

“We, uhm, we saw you rush out with Roman here and thought we’d say hello,” said your father, sparing you a terse smile.

“Wow.” Roman, unsurprisingly, inserted himself into the conversation. “And the parents of the year award goes to…”

“You thought you’d say hello. Jesus—I haven’t seen either of you in fucking forever and the first thing you do is nitpick at my appearance?” you growled, fists clenching by your side. “Listen, if you want to be in my life, then be in my life. But you can’t pretend that everything is okay when you see me and then promptly waltz off and disappear for another decade or two.”

Your mother sipped at her wine, at a loss for words. They glanced at each other, both wearing a mildly guilty expression, but had really nothing to defend themself with.

With an angry scoff, you stormed back into the room where Logan was about to give his closing speech, shoulder roughly knocking into your father’s as you brushed past him. 

Roman scratched the back of his head, left alone with your parents. 

“For the record, Y/N is doing fucking great without either of you. You know—crunching those numbers, being a goddamn messiah for the lower-level employees, fucking the boss. All that jazz.” He grinned and hum-laughed when their eyes widened in shock, and sauntered in after you. It wasn’t exactly that white of a lie. You’d given him a handjob and the two of you technically had phone sex—would those two activities put together constitute as one whole traditional, in-person fuck?

He’d come in to stand beside you and Tabitha just in time to hear his father make the announcement.

“... And I shall be appointing Rhea Jarrell as my Chief Executive Operator.”

The crowd burst into applause. Roman clapped with a faux-surprised expression. When he glanced at you, you were wiping the corner of your eyes with the back of your palm and hastily clapped along.

Once the cheers began to mellow away, Roman stopped clapping to lace his fingers through the gaps of yours, squeezing tight. Your eyes watered even more at the contact, but you squeezed back in gratitude.

There was an interview of  James Weissel on the television: a whistleblowing interview tossing Gerri, Kendall, and Tom into the stinking shitpot that was the cruise incidents, accusing the three of covering up McClintock’s actions. Logan had shut it off before anybody could finish watching.

Whilst everyone was busy prattling off about how bad of a situation this was, Gerri seemed to be the one lighthouse amidst the storm.

“I say we tell the truth,” she calmly said, adjusting her glasses to sit higher up her nose. “The family knew nothing of this. We throw Mo overboard. Mo, bad apple. Jim Weasel, bad apple. Spies a book deal—sotto voce, backed by Sandy and Stewy. All corporate fuckery, no real concern. In terms of historic shit? I say we give up Bill. He should’ve let us know what he discovered rather than cleaning up without telling us the details.”

Bill had been the old Tom before Tom was, well, Tom.

And so there was the strategy: letting Bill take the fall, and kill him off. It wasn’t… a decision you necessarily felt good about, but it was the least messy the situation could be.

Things felt like they’d be smoothed over, just for a little bit.

But then Siobhan came in, phone clutched tightly in her hand. “Gil is going to call for hearings.”

This stirred up quite a murmur in the room. Both Kendall and Frank sat up in their seats with incredulous questions on the tip of their tongues.

“Yeah, Senate Commerce. Probably House, too.” 

Gerri was on her phone in an instant. “Buckle up folks,” she said while scrolling through the news. “We’re going to get an invite to the national latrine. See who’s going to take a public dump.”

“Mr. Fuck is going to Washington,” Shiv sighed.

It was then that Logan let out an ear-splitting bellow of rage. It shocked both you and Roman into flinching. 

“NO! I CAN’T HAVE THIS NOW!” he screamed in distress.

There was a long moment of silence. 

In a leveled tone, you asked Shiv, “Who’s testifying?”

“Uh, well… well, they’d want Dad.”

Kendall quickly protested, “No, we can’t—we won’t let that happen—”

“Protect the egg chamber!” said Roman. Nobody could quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not. 

It was then that Hugo suggested Gerri and Tom to testify. The group went back and forth for a little while longer on what the play would be, but it was quite clear that everybody was already settled with Gerri and Tom going up there. 

To your surprise, Logan called for you and Roman out of the room. 

A part of you wondered if he’d beat Roman over the head with his fancy business shoe for buying the wrong soccer team. You certainly wouldn’t put it past him, especially in his already-agitated state. 

“I need both of your help,” he told the two of you once you were out of the room, lingering by the foot of the pristine staircase. 

“Need someone to run to the store for smokes?” Roman asked, his hands propped on his hips.

“This’ll go on all night… and it might not be okay,” your godfather said.

This made you tilt your head. “Will this really sway the shareholders into folding? It happened under our noses three decades ago, and the perpetrator is dead.”

“The very fact that we’re being called to testify will spook the shareholders. I’m on a knife’s edge.” He grunted softly as he lowered himself to sit on one of the lower steps of the cold staircase. “Ten bad minutes on camera, and that could be it. The end.”

Roman’s brows raised. “The end? Come on, Dad.”

“I need the two of you to chase down the sovereign wealth money,” said Logan.

You and Roman glanced at one another. Was he being serious? 

“Right. Uhm… I mean—that’s… it’s a cool idea, but it’d be a stretch, no?” Roman tentatively brought up. 

Logan leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his elbows, which were resting upon his knees. Though he had made himself physically smaller, he’d always be the biggest presence in the room. “We need that central Asian money. It’s a time out from the responsibilities of being a public company. That’s a fucking lifeline, if I’ve ever seen one.”

“They’d be taking on a massive amount of debt. That’s a… huge responsibility, Uncle Logan.” 

The older man snorted. “Which is why I’m making you go with him. Make sure he doesn’t fuck up. Keep it under wraps. And bring Karl and Laird with you, as well, for the financial matters.” There was a pause as he studied the two of you. “Can you do it?”

Roman scratched anxiously at the back of his head. “Fuck, Dad, I want to say I can. But, I’ll be honest—if it’s, like, really important… I mean, I can say I can do it—like one of those firefighters in the movies. But I don’t know if—”

“You act the fuckleknuckle, but you know… people like you.” 

There it was. A narrow slant of light. It wasn’t real—at least, you didn’t think it was—but it was warmth regardless.

Roman’s features twisted. “It’s a really big fucking deal.”

“Nah. It’s getting the right number from the right suit. Getting your dick in there is easy. Getting into bed—that’s the hard part,” said his father. “You can do it. Both of you can.”

You scuffed your shoe against the floor just as Roman’s nose twitched. 

“Yeah. Sure, dad, I got it.”

Logan pushed himself off the staircase, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. The light was warm, and far too addicting. He smiled softly. 

It wasn’t real, you had to remind yourself. It’s never real. But did that really matter? Did it?

“You’re brilliant, my dear. A real force to reckon with. I trust you to hammer the nail right on its head,” he said. 

You swallowed harshly. “I hope we won’t disappoint, Uncle.”

When he pulled away, he began to make his way towards the doors once more. “Keep me close,” he said. 

And with that, he was gone.

Roman let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

“Why does it feel like we just dug our own graves? I feel like I’ve got fuckin’ dirt in my eyes,” he lamented just as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You know, if the company ever kills you off, I’ll quit. I don’t know how I’d do it around here without you.”

“All bark, still no bite,” you quietly told him. “You wouldn’t leave the company. Not on your own free will.”

Like a caged dog: it was only able to escape if their owner opened the door for them.

“I’ll kill myself if they kill you. I mean it—I’ll eat a fucking silver bullet.”

“How romantic.”

“Mhm—we’re like fuckin’... Romeo and Juliet.”

He smiled, and so did you.

“C’mon. Let’s go watch the grown-ass men I bought kick around balls for a bit,” said Roman.

Eduard greeted you at the soccer team’s practice field with a kiss on the cheek, Roman with a firm handshake. 

“It’s good to see you,” you told him with a genuine smile. 

“Good to see you guys, too,” he replied. His expression was well-guarded behind a pair of dark shades. “With everything I’ve heard going down at Waystar, I was surprised you even showed up.”

With a shrug, Roman said, “I have nothing better to do, I promise. I’m gonna cut right to the chase here—do you think there’s any chance you guys have the muscle to take us private? Is that something that’s interesting to you and your dad?”

With nearly no hesitation, Eduard bobbed his head in an affirmative.

Shocked, Karl asked, “Really? That’s…”

Eduard spared the older man half of a grin. “Yes, we’re interested. It’ll look good as part of our portfolio, and we like the news expertise you can share.” Just as Laird began spewing off details to tell Logan, Eduard cut him off by saying, “Actually, Roman, Y/N—can you guys do it? The two of you make quite a team. You and your… bum-boys here can come to Turkey tomorrow? Pitch to me and my Dad?”

You and Roman exchanged earnest glances, as if speaking to each other telepathically. You were sure you could push back your work at Waystar for a few days to settle the privatizing deal. 

“Absolutely. I think we can definitely do that,” said Rome, with a pleased hum. Then, he turned back to fix his gaze on Laird and Karl. “Ain’t that right, bum-boys?”

 “Why Turkey?” you asked, brows raising. “I mean, I can pitch to you anywhere, but why, you know, all the way across the ocean?”

“There’s an investing conference in Bursa. Everyone will be there—we can get into it. Unless you have any objections…?”

Hastily, you shook your head. “No, no. This is great. Thanks for the opportunity.”

“No problem,” said Eduard, watching the ball fly across the field, landing into the goal. “I like you guys. Really.”

The coach called for the team to huddle up, allowing for the owners to say a few words. A part of you wondered if Rome even remembered the name of the FC he had bought.

“Great session, guys. And listen, for Saturday, you have the ability, you have the mentality. Watch that press doesn’t leave you exposed on the turnover, and you fucking got this. Rome?” Eduard turned to your friend, who hadn’t really prepared anything to say.

Roman fixed you with a panicked look, but you nudged him forward with a purse of you lips.

Scratching the back of his head, he awkwardly started, “Uh, yeah, hey guys! Really proud to be associated with all of you. Uh, well, what the fuck can I tell you that you don’t already know? You, uh, you got all this guys, don’t worry about it. ‘Cause you guys are a team, and, uh, when a team… is a team… it can’t actually physically be beaten. It’s impossible. So, go hard, go fast—uh, go you… lovely bastards.” The team glanced at each other and began to awkwardly clap, before Rome looked to you and said, “Anything else you want to add?”

“Me?” you hissed under your breath. “Rome, I’m not an owner—”

“Just say something—!” he whispered back, yanking you forward by the arm.

Stiff, you waved at the litter of sweaty, jerseyed men in front of you. “Hi. Yeah, I’m sure you guys know I’m not one of the team’s owners, but I was there during the business negotiations as Roman’s, uh… co-partner. All I can do now is wish you all the best of luck for your next match—get some rest, eat some good food, keep your eyes on the prize. And if any of you want to get in touch with Waystar Royco for any sort of PR pitches to get your face out there… Coach will have me and Roman’s contact details.” With a smile, you stepped back, shoulder brushing against Roman’s.

“Fuck you,” he muttered bitterly. “Did you rehearse that in your head or something? How’d you manage to perfectly squeeze business into a fucking pep talk?”

You grinned and pinched his cheek lightly. “Go hard and go fast, you lovely bastard,” you mocked, voice rife with fondness, chortling when he swatted your hand away.

Before you knew it, you and Roman (and the bum-boys) were in Turkey, pitching to Eduard and his team. You had tried practicing a little the night before, but Roman had tossed all the flashcards away out of part-frustration and part-cockiness, assuring you that things would be fine. 

Now, as he was speaking, he seemed pretty confident in his own words. The two of you made a good team, after all.

“Look at the cash flow,” said Roman. “We are undervalued. I think tech just had everybody shitting their pants about legacy media, but really, the wheel turns.”

You nodded with an emphatic smile. “It’s true. No matter how much content moves to streaming sites, people will always want to look for something physical. Something you can feel and experience outside of home—hence Waystar’s adventure parks, and films to experience in theaters.” You made great effort to skirt around the touchy subject of cruises at the moment. 

“Most tech is overvalued. We’re profitable. We’re real money,” Roman added, growing more assured of himself with your support. 

“Tech is always changing. Invest in one thing, and it’ll be outdated in a blink of an eye. Invest in things people will always need: news, broadcasting, life experiences… now that’s reliable.” Eduard flashed you a smile, as if he was already sold.

“This is a tremendous opportunity,” said Rome. “This is once in a lifetime. You get to buy into the US media landscape at the very top. The very top.”

Two of the men leaned forward to whisper indistinctly to one another. 

“It’s a lot of debt,” one of them said once he finally pulled away. “You sure you can pull it together?”

“Absolutely sure,” Roman said with a mild laugh, knowing things with money and debt were quite rocky at the moment, before pointing back at Laird. “Jaime here is the fucking master of leverage. He has structured some of the biggest LBOs in history.”

“Guilty as charged,” said the older man.

Before anyone could say anything else, the doors to the room opened, and a few men filed in, murmuring indistinctly to the security. Your brows pulled together upon seeing guns strapped to their forms.

Roman exchanged a worried look with you.

“Are they, uh… are they with you?” he asked Eduard, who got up off his seat to speak to them in hushed tones.

“Rome, they have guns,” you murmured as you placed a hand on his forearm, glancing back at Karl and Laird. “What’s going on?”

The atmosphere seemed to chill when Eduard turned back to the four of you.

“Hey, look, we’re good. We’re good. But, uh… we’re all gonna go with these gentlemen now, okay?” He raised his hands in an almost placating manner, as if trying to tame a nervous mare. 

 Roman pointed at the armed men. “We’re going with them?” He laughed nervously, wondering if this was one big, elaborate joke. “Uh, no… I don’t think we—uh, who are these guys, exactly?”

Genuine fear began to curdle in your stomach when you watched the security walk out. “Dave just walked out. Hey, Eduard? I just—I need you to be honest with me. Are we in danger right now?”

Eduard worked his jaw in thought. “We’re just going to go with them now. Okay? It’ll be fine.”

“No, uh, I just—Can I just ask what this is in regards to?” Roman stepped in, high-strung. “Is this about the meeting? Is this a business thing?” 

Did I fuck it up and put a loaded gun to my own head? he wanted to say, but bit his tongue before he could.

With a sharp tone, you asked, “Our security guy, Dave, he just walked out with them. Where’d he go? Is he coming back?”

“Dave’s not coming,” said Eduard with pursed lips.

“He’s not coming?” Roman parroted. “Uhm… I would actually really like for Dave to come?”

“Dave is downstairs, we’ll go without him,” Eduard said in a calm tone. “Dave is a security risk. It’s better with these guys, okay?”

“Well, I know Dave, and I sure as hell don’t know these guys so… I think I’d prefer Dave—” you began to say, but was quickly cut off when Eduard put a hand on your shoulder and began leading your tense form out the room, Roman hot on your heels.

“It’s all good. It’s all under control,” Eduard murmured, though you highly doubted it. “There could be a situation, but we’re being looked after.”

A frown crossed Roman’s expression. “Oh, great. We’re being looked after. Fucking great. Laird—can you call Dave?”

They pulled out their phones, but the vested men with guns took the devices away just as quickly as it was pulled out. One stood in front of you with an expectant expression, and you complied with no resistance, handing him your phone, though not without a scowl.

“Great. They took my phone, and now I can’t contact my security, and now we’re going to die,” Roman said. When you looked at him, you could see genuine, restless fear dance over his irises. You didn’t quite know what to say, so you simply squeezed his arm as the two of you walked along.

The armed men led all of you to a crowded hotel lobby, where there seemed to be more hostages, more armed folk in similar attire. 

“Fuck,” Roman mumbled under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t business, is it?”

“Doesn’t look very business-y,” replied Karl.

When someone passed by and their gun brushed against your arm, you flinched back into Roman, your lips pulling back in a snarl. “Eduard. Fuck—Eduard, where the fuck are you taking us?”

“Just relax. This is normal,” he said, shiftily.

Roman scoffed. “Oh, yeah. This feels really fucking normal. Is this—are these guys terrorists? Where’s my fucking security guy? Where’s Dave?”

For a moment, Eduard seemed at a loss for words. You could feel dread pile up in your stomach. “It’s just… it’s an administrative action function,” he reluctantly said.

“Mm, yeah, great, and what exactly is that—?” Roman began to ask, before halting his own question when he trained his gaze on a struggle across the lobby. “Oh, wow, look at that. Guy not being allowed to leave the hotel at gunpoint. That’s—uh, yeah. So what’s… what’s this administrative action function?”

Pursing his lips, Eduard finally fessed up, “There’s just a gathering here now, of us and some other investors, and—”

“Men with guns?” Roman impatiently chirped.

“Yeah, yeah, that, and their guys are some kind of… anti-corruption kind of guys and this is like—it’s like their conference. Or, uh, a party of some sort. And we’re all invited.”

Your eye twitched. “That’s really lovely, but uh, what if I don’t want to go?”

A scream from somewhere over the crowd echoed through the lobby. Glass shattering followed soon after. Karl paled and he anxiously picked at a hangnail.

Eduard sighed. “It’s the kind of party where you have to go. It would be… rude.”

Roman stared at the ground, at nothing in particular. “Well, uh, I guess I wouldn’t mind being just a tiny bit rude.”

It was becoming more and more clear that no amount of protests or questions would get you out of this situation—not with every exit manned by armed personnel. The hostages in the hotel were soon herded into a large hall, empty save for bare white chairs for people to sit on. Eduard was led into a different room, and you briefly wondered if that’d be the last time you ever saw him.

You blew out a breath as you took a seat. Roman was quick to snare Laird into playing a multitude of games, like rock, paper, scissors, eye spy, and fuck, marry, kill. You didn’t pay much attention to them, instead trying to figure out what you’d do with yourself once you got out of this situation. One thing was for sure: your therapist was going to have a field day hearing this. 

“Where do you think they’re taking them?” you asked the men beside you when they began grabbing hostages and shoving them out the doors. 

“Doesn’t look like they’re gonna be taking a tour of the spa,” said Laird.

“My advice,” Karl huffed, looking awfully sweaty, “just don’t look at anything. If you don’t look, you’re not a witness.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Wonderful. Brilliant advice, Karl. At least you didn’t tell me to just take it if they decided to shove their dicks into my mouth.”

“Woah!” exclaimed Roman, eyes widening. “That’s not going to happen. Right? That can’t happen.”

You spared him a shrug, slumping back against the chair. Though, you were quick to sit up straight again when Eduard emerged from the doors, making a bee-line for you and Roman.

“Hey, guys. It’s all good. Things are good. So, uh, my president’s daughter’s husband has asked him to take closer control of some key assets. It’s anti-corruption, but it’s a bit of a power-grab. Some Turkish acquiescence, but it’s all in play.”

If you had to be honest, you understood very little of what he was saying. Whether it was because of your panic-hazed mind, or because he was merely being ambiguous, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Not to, uh, make this all about us…” began Roman, tentative, “but are they going to shoot us at any point?”

“No one is getting shot,” assured the bearded man. “Look, it’s complicated, but with the Zeynal here—there’s some interest about the deal.”

Deal? 

Both you and Roman glanced at each other. 

“Uh, fuck. Okay. The deal, sure,” said Rome.

“One thing they wanted clarity on was—how could they be sure the deal wouldn’t be blocked by your government?” Eduard asked.

You stuck your tongue against your cheek when Roman shook his head, “Well, it wouldn’t. My father has a lot of sway. I mean, he can’t lock up his opponents in a hotel, but, well, he kinda could.”

“And you’re the target of another bid? Won’t that be a problem?”

Sandy and Stewy. “Not a problem,” you quickly said. “They’re all bark, very little bite. If the price is right, we can easily reach a settlement before the shareholder meeting.”

With a nod, Eduard patted your knee, and he got up to leave—talk to his associates once more. 

“That went well,” said Laird, mildly surprised. 

“Yeah… a little too well,” Roman mused.

Hours later, Eduard returned, calling for the four of you to follow him.

It was a pitch. A messy pitch—one you clearly weren’t in the right mindspace for. One where the audience had clear smudges of coke lining their nostrils, dusting their tables. One that had a lot of money thrown into the empty promises, accompanied by high smiles and wandering eyes. It made you feel sick, and Roman clearly wasn’t a fan of it, either. Laird seemed to be satisfied with the mutual agreements, though. He heard money, and he immediately thought he was safe.

But the agreements didn’t feel quite real. None of it felt real. It was all bullshit, you wanted to yell at their face. Being held at gunpoint to play business in front of the coked out billionaires was not your preferred method of saving the company, especially when none of the settlements felt cemented. This wasn’t safe money to bet the entire company on—it might’ve not been money at all, in fact.

By the end of everything, the ambassador had arranged for a plane to finally get you out of the country. You fell asleep as soon as you sat down in your seat, the long hours going without sleep finally catching up to you. Roman curled up in the seat beside you, his head on your shoulder. He stayed awake the entire flight, listening to your steady breaths.

The Mediterranean. The Roys were on a fancy yacht in the Mediterranean.

It would’ve sounded like a pleasant getaway, if you weren’t dead-tired, having just returned from being held hostage at gunpoint. You just wanted to go home. Logan, however, wanted you and Rome by his side—and who were you to say no to the top dog?

As the speedboat skidded to a stop by the yacht, cheers erupted from siblings, along with Gerri and Frank, Greg and Tom. Roman slid his sunglasses on as he clambered onto the larger boat’s deck. 

“Here they are! The heroes of Asia!” exclaimed Shiv, a flute of champagne in hand. She was the first to greet you, taking your hand and helping you out of the speedboat. After a kiss to your cheek, you spared her an exhausted smile.

“The lions of Turkey! Welcome back, guys!” chimed Greg. He leaned down to embrace his cousin, but Roman was quick to push his face away. Greg didn’t dare try to hug you after that, merely waving from afar.

Frank clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Back like Odysseus. Did you guys ride out on sheep?”

Snorting, Shiv added, “Yeah, I heard you took down an entire army alone, bro.”

“That would’ve been really traumatizing if you weren’t already so fucked up,” Gerri told Roman, who simply frowned.

“Yeah, who’d you suck off to get out?” Kendall inserted.

Tom smiled widely from behind Shiv. “You were staying at Four Seasons, right? How did you guys escape? Did you—did you build a glider out of a caesar salad?”

Roman squinted at nothing in particular from behind the dark lens of his sunglasses. “Uh, you know what? It was actually fucking scary and we thought they might kill us, but yeah…” The tips of his fingers wiggled in a poor rendition of jazz hands. “Hardee-har-har, caesar salads, har-har. So funny.”

An awkward silence ensued between the small group. You scritched at your neck with a wince, wanting nothing more than a shower and a nap.

“Sorry, dude. Seriously,” said Kendall.

Roman snorted. “Yeah, no. They just raped me a little, but I’m no hero. They stuck their cocks down Y/N’s throat, too. Tell them.”

He nudged you and you shook your head tiredly. “They didn’t do that.”

“See? It got so bad that she trauma-blocked the memories. Shame on all of you,” he said, propping his fists on his hips. 

Feeling mildly guilty, Shiv had the gall to rub her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Sorry, Rome.”

“It’s fine. I’m just tired, or whatever. It was funny, actually. Karl almost shat in a bucket and I have it on my phone, so we can fully humiliate him in our daily jerkfest later,” said Rome, tugging you to sit down with him on a large white seat.

“So how’d it all go, business-wise?” Connor asked, eyeing the both of you curiously. “Or was that forgotten?”

Before either of you could say anything, Laird stepped in, shaking his head with a wide smile. “Oh, we can’t say anything about that. Confidential stuff. But they—they did good.”

“Oh! Okay. Promising!” Connor exclaimed, shooting the both of you a grin. “Congrats, you guys.”

Unease crackled between the two of you. When you locked gazes with Roman, he merely lifted one of his shoulders in a shrug, lips pursed. The deal probably wouldn’t go through. It was all empty promises, powdered with a layer of cocaine. 

The two of you failed. And maybe that was okay.

Your hand found his, and his head knocked against yours. He drank the beer Shiv handed him, and you drank in the salty air of the sea.

After you’d finally managed to pry yourself away from Roman (or, more accurately, Roman away from you), you had yourself a nice, hot shower, and a long-overdue nap. When you drowsily blinked back into consciousness, it was early afternoon, the sun still high up in the cloudless sky. A part of you wondered how you hadn’t just slept through the entire day.

You cleaned yourself up and changed into loose loungewear, heading down a story of the yacht, where you caught sight of the Roy siblings hanging by the pool (minus Connor, who was discussing matters of the play).

Roman waved at you limply. “Hey, sleeping beauty. You were knocked out for a while. I poked you in all your ticklish spots and you didn’t even stir.”

With a sigh, you curled yourself up into the cushioned spot beside him, Shiv on your other side. On her right was Tom, who had his gaze trained on Greg on the other side of the pool—the Roy’s cousin was… getting his toes looked at by the medic? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t quite want to know.

��You know, if you snuck into my room while I’m asleep and prodded me like a corpse, at least don’t fess up to it. You weirdo,” you said once you finally tore your gaze away from Greg, wrinkling your nose at Rome fondly.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” Roman whistled, to which Shiv let out a loud groan of complaint. 

Sloshing water from the pool drew your attention to Kendall. “You good, Y/N? Sorry about—if I was, like, insensitive earlier—”

“It’s fine,” you quickly replied. “They were never going to shoot us, anyway. It was all just… theatrics.”

Theatrics. Puppets and strings.

Kendall smiled loosely. 

“So, uh, how was DC?” you asked the older man as he leaned against the rim of the pool. “They had it on the TV for a bit when we were waiting to give our pitch.”

He nodded, water dripping from his hair. “Yeah, it was—it was pretty fucking real.”

“You did good,” Roman chirped, adjusting the sunglasses on his nose. 

Scoffing, Kendall shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. And what? I did good for—for a crackhead? For a moron on crack?” His voice was lilting with incredulity.

“Nope. You did good, Ken,” he said.

Shiv nodded. “Yeah. You killed it.”

Kendall wasn’t used to genuine praise from his siblings. It was usually edged with an insult, laced with sarcasm or ire. 

“It was Tom that, uh… that didn’t really persuade everyone quite as well,” you said, sending an apologetic grimace to Shiv’s fiance.

“You’re being too nice. He shat his pants and puked all over the floor,” Roman huffed with an amused smile. 

Tom pulled a cross face. “I didn’t—!” He drew in a sharp breath. “You know, a lot of people are saying I was deadcatting. Yeah. So like—dead cat on the table. Everyone’s looking at this dead cat, and not… not talking about your dad.”

Shiv pursed her lips. “Right. Sure, yeah, you drew the fire. Yeah.”

Both you and Roman exchanged humored looks. 

“So, what’s going on with Rhea? She’s out, right?” Roman asked a beat later.

“Mhm. Melted. But she’s agreed not to say anything publicly until after the shareholder meeting,” said Shiv.

You briefly wondered why she backed away, but chalked it up to immense financial risk and potential ethical demise of her career. Good for her. 

“Instead of Rhea, whose big hairy foot is going to slip into the glass slipper?” Roman queried. “Washington Ken here?”

His older brother clambered out of the pool, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. “Me? Uh, no. Nope. I mean—Rome, you brought the golden goose home.”

The two of you frowned at the same time. Roman let out a loud sigh.

“Could be anyone,” you said. “We’re right back to square one.”

“Yeah. Could be. I mean, why is Greg here?” Kendall shot a look over his shoulder to glance at his cousin, peering between his own toes.

Roman snorted. “I always ask that question.” Then, he patted your thigh and leaned against you, enjoying the warmth of your skin against his. “I did think—you know, when I thought they were going to vacuum out my innards and fill me with concrete or something—like… if we come through this, is there a thing where we, like, talk to each other about stuff? Normally?”

In a strange alien-baby voice, Shiv mocked, “You wanna twalk to each other nwormally?”

Kendall snickered and tacked on, “You wanna twalk abwout the big shit?”

“Yeah, let’s twalk abwout the big shit!”

“We can talk about—our feewings!”

The siblings joking around for a rare moment reminded you of when you were all younger, with missing teeth and scraped knees. When Shiv’s hair would still be done up in a ponytail and yours would be twisted into pigtails. Simpler times—when things weren’t all that simple but you, in your blissful ignorance, had thought they were. 

Though you really didn’t want to laugh, you tried your best to smother down a chuckle, making Roman send you a betrayed glare. 

“Wow. Really? You, too?” He lightly shoved you away, and you and Shiv burst into a fit of giggles when you knocked into her. “How am I the most mature one here?”

“Sowwy, Wome,” you crooned in the same alien-baby voice. He kicked at your foot, then hooked his leg over yours.

The laughter dulled away when the whirring of helicopter blades descended over the yacht.

Logan was here.

“Emotional gunship incoming,” said Kendall.

“Yeah. Send out the distress signal,” Shiv added, the smile on her lips fading away as she looked up to see her father fly down. “We’re under attack.”

Logan was smiling. It wasn’t often that he smiled. 

He greeted you with a chaste kiss to the cheek, and Roman with a pat to the shoulder. It was warm in the light—brief, but warm nonetheless.

When he hoarded the two of you, along with bum-boys Laird and Karl into a separate room, he immediately asked, “Are you two alright? I heard it got a bit tasty.”

Tasty wasn’t exactly the right word for it, you thought. 

“Mmh, we’re fine. I’ve had worse experiences at hotels before,” Roman languidly commented, shrugging it off. 

Logan tilted his head. “Did they look after you? I spoke to the White House.”

“Someone came and told us there was a warship,” you said, pursing your lips. “Felt a bit extreme.”

“Knowing us gun-handy Americans, I bet it was already there,” Roman snorted, pouring himself a drink. “The ambassador took us for a shitty lunch—you know, sorry that you were held at gunpoint, have a cheese sandwich.”

Logan gestured for all of you to take a seat. “So… on the money. What’s the situation?”

“The kids did great,” said Laird, which made Roman audibly gag. “I think, Mr. Roy, you’ll be able to go private. Eduard and his father have titular responsibility for the sovereign wealth but the president’s daughter’s husband, Zeynal, is the key guy now. The two of ‘em killed it with him.”

Shrugging, Roman said, “Well, it was clear Eduard was getting sidelined. Zeynal figured out who we were, and I thought we were gonna be taken to get a fucking chainsaw massage but… nope. We had an hour, we pitched hard, and they said they wanted in.”

“Too modest,” Laird emphasized, brows raising. “This is the perfect opportunity.”

It wasn’t. It never was.

Karl went on to talk about the numbers, and Logan seemed quite pleased. 

“That’s great. That’s fucking fantastic!” announced Roman’s father.

Rome bit down on the inside of his cheek. He winced, and scratched at his head.

“I just… I do have to say one thing, dad…”

Panic flashed across Laird’s eyes. “Roman, we’re good.”

Ignoring him, Roman said, “I mean, we had a good talk with Zeynal and he said, with his mouth, that he wanted in and that’s great and all… but if this is really serious for us, I think I actually do have to say that it feels like it’s… probably horseshit.”

A beat of silence.

Laird’s eyes twitched.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Yeah, I just wanna make it clear that they said they wanted in, but didn’t sign anything yet. I mean, it’s not like we had any documents on hand but… words mean nothing. Uncle Logan, I don’t know if it’s… really smart to bank the entire future of the company on words of drug-addled men taking a piss out of you.”

Logan’s brows raised.

“It was flaky,” Roman added. “There was a lot of shit going on.”

The head man glanced at Karl, who remained deathly quiet, and then back to you. 

“Roman, they want to rebalance their portfolio for, uh, for a variety of geopolitical reasons,” began Laird. “It’s very European-focused, and he wants to tilt Western Hemisphere. It’s all very logical! I know that it’s a lot of money, and that can be very scary, but it makes sense.”

“All due respect, Laird, but I really don’t think they give a shit about adding us to their portfolio,” you said, voice hesitant. “They know we’re in debt. They know we’re in hot water with a large sector of the company. Why would they want in at all, much less hand over a ten billion dollar investment like it’s nothing?”

Roman sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry that we’re worrying our pretty little heads, Laird, but if they’re rebalancing their portfolio, it’d be fucking insane to do it over one ten-bil mega deal like it’s nothing.”

“Yeah, it’d be more sensible that they invest into several different markets around the globe,” you agreed. “None of this feels right.”

“It doesn’t matter what it feels like,” stressed Laird. “They said yes!”

With a frown, Roman retorted back, “Maybe, sure, they said yes! And there’s a ten or twenty percent chance that you’d make, like, a hundred million bucks with this deal. That’s so exciting! But if we miss, we could be fucked.”

Logan’s expression was hard to read. Anger? Disbelief? Disappointment? Acceptance? You couldn’t quite tell.

Swallowing hard, you said, “If we go through with this and none of it turns out to be real, we’d go straight over the edge. No votes, no political gain, no money.”

Finally, Logan murmured, “If it falls halfway through, it’d be terminal.”

A vein popped out on Laird’s head. “But if it works… just one step forward, and you’d be free.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Free from what? Just because we go private doesn’t mean we can do fuck all.”

Before Laird could argue back, Logan fixed his stare onto Roman. “Son?” he asked.

“Dad, I have to say, I’ve done a little bullshitting in my time—and Zenyal was a cokey, lying, 3 AM scotch and see-you-in-the-morning man. He won’t follow through.”

With a frustrated groan, Laird angrily got up from his seat.

Roman shook his head. “Dad, I wish it was real. I really fucking do. But it’s not—and we have to step away.”

When Logan turned his stare onto you, you nodded in agreement with Roman. 

“Karl?” your godfather asked.

The man buckled under the scrutiny. “You can’t lean on this,” he said. “Not now.”

His mind finally made, Logan got up onto his feet. “I’m sorry, Jaime. Keep exploring, keep talking. I cannot pile my chips on something that isn’t solid.”

“Excellent,” sighed Jaime. He looked at you, then at Roman. “You wanna talk solid? Maybe take a look at your kid there. Does he sound solid to you? And—thanks for the support, Karl. I hope you enjoy the king’s favors, because you know what you’re looking at if you don’t go private. Someone has to pay the price. Someone is going to go to jail, and I won’t be around to see it.”

With that, he dramatically took his leave. Roman tilted his head back and rolled his eyes.

“I wanna do the best thing. The most decent thing,” said Logan. His hand was on your shoulder for a moment, before he pulled away. “Tomorrow we’ll get into a discussion about our missteps and how we can indicate how sorry we are to the rest of the world. Get some rest, the both of you.”

As you clambered into bed, Roman unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it somewhere behind him. He’d followed you into the cabin, claiming that there were no available cabins left—and you knew he was lying, because you’d passed by several empty rooms on the way to yours, but you didn’t bother to protest.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“You know, I overheard Tom and Shiv speaking to each other,” you said as you fluffed up a pillow to lay on. 

“Ooh. Is Tom the one getting shitcanned? No surprise there,” Roman replied, crawling next to you and laid down on his stomach, head resting on his crossed arms. 

“No. I mean, I don’t actually know who it’ll be, but—” You paused to smile, near-childish laughter falling from your lips. “I heard Tom saying he was excited for a threesome.”

“Ew! What? Ew! Tell me more,” Roman exclaimed, swatting at your arms and you shoved him back, laughing at his tone. “Oh, that’s so gross. Never pegged Tom as the type.”

“I don’t think it was Tom’s idea.”

“Ew!”

The two of you giggled about it some more, before you lolled your head over to face him. 

“Do you think it could be me?” you quietly asked. “Would Logan throw me to the sharks?”

Roman hummed. “Sometimes it feels like he likes you better than any of his own fucking kids. You’re not getting canned. It won’t make sense.”

“Hm.”

He threw an arm over your stomach. “But… it won’t be me, right?”

“I don’t know, Rome,” you told him honestly. “After today… I just don’t know. But I’ve got your back.”

The two of you basked in the comfort of each other’s quiet for a brief moment. You scooched closer to him and shut your eyes.

“You’re a really good friend, Rome.”

Something akin to an amused snort fell from his lips. “Pfft. Friend. I don’t think friends jerk off to the sound of each other’s voices. You’ve had your hand on my dick. Is that what friends do these days?”

“Friends with benefits, then.”

He brushed his lips along your shoulder, light as a feather, barely there. There was a strange ache in his chest. An ache that you also felt. The two of you ached together, unknowingly. 

“Hm. I like the sound of that. It’s like you’re my personal whore.”

“It’s a two-way street.”

“Yeah. You fuck me, I fuck you. You kill me, I kill you. Like they do in Germany.”

There it was again. What was with Roman and Germany?

“Sure. Like they do in Germany.”

It was hard to stomach breakfast with your restless nerves shooting adrenaline through your veins. You anxiously plowed through two apples and started on your third just when Logan stepped onto the lower level. Everybody’s attention piqued, their heads turning, postures stiffening up against the chairs around the dining table. 

When Gerri tentatively asked him who he had in mind as the sacrificial lamb, Logan waved her away.

“Enough. We stick together, alright? Most things don’t exist. The Ford motor company hardly exists—it’s just a time-saving expression for a collection of financial interests. But this exists, because…”

Roman leaned in close to mockingly whisper, “Family.”

“Family,” Logan finished. “We are a family. And so that’s why I think… I think the obvious choice is me.”

A ripple of shock coursed through the small group. Your eyes narrowed, unsure of what game Logan was playing at now.

“No,” Shiv vehemently said. “What? Dad, you—you can’t.”

Logan tilted his head. It wasn’t often he was told that he couldn’t. “Well, I may not be responsible, but the buck has to stop somewhere.”

The rest of the group erupted in protests. Tom, Kendall, Frank. They were all bleating sheep. Roman rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t work,” Kendall elaborated. “When people find out Rhea isn’t coming in, we’d need stability. From you.”

Logan raised a single finger. “I need one meaningful skull to wave.” Wave didn’t seem quite the appropriate term. Chop off, maybe. Sever was a good one. “If the shareholders’ meeting was tomorrow, we lose. I need to persuade a number of big figures. So… would anyone like to say anything?”

Crackling silence. Across the table, Greg popped a fat green grape into his mouth.

“I’ll take care of whoever it is,” said Logan. “No one will be forgotten.”

Clearing his throat, Kendall ventured out, “Well, I mean, if we’re doing this, I don’t wanna spread shit around. We’re all loyal servants here. But, uh, I say this without malice aforethought, presumably, uhm, general counsel is the center of the web. Sorry, Gerri. I like you, I do.”

Logan reached out to put his hand over the blonde woman’s. “There is no one more loyal than Gerri,” he said, effectively dismissing the idea.

But you saw right through him. It wasn’t about Gerri’s loyalty. She wasn’t a big enough cut. 

“What about Frank?” Roman offered. Everyone was well aware of his disdain for the older man. “How come Frank is even here today?”

Full of ire, Logan’s old friend nodded his head. “Thanks, Roman. I see it. I could take it. I mean, I make sense.”

“Yeah. And after what he did to you? The whole boardroom coup?” Roman lifted a shoulder, convinced that Frank was the most obvious choice.

“Water under the bridge.” Logan brushed away once more. Still not big enough.

After a long while of stammering, Frank finally coughed out, “I would say objectively, considering my, uh, my indiscretion against the family makes me a less compelling sacrifice. Unlike—uhm, for instance, a loyal servant like Karl.”

Instead of defending himself, Karl decided to turn the blade right back around to Gerri. “My thing is, I guess, if Rhea is no more, then sadly, we’re back to having Gerri as named successor. So that fattens her up for the kill, in my opinion.”

“Everyone knows I was just a name on a piece of paper,” defended the woman, laughing incredulously.

“Oh, don’t put yourself down. I think you were always more than that,” scoffed Karl. “And, you know, the old copy book is a bit blotty. Expense accounts… daughter’s first class on the company coin…”

“Karl sounds good!” Tom chimed in. “Sausage thief,” he bitterly muttered, in reference to the entire Boar on the Floor debacle in Hungary.

“Gerri is theoretically kind of perfect,” said Connor.

“No,” Roman was quick to protest. “Nope. That’s bullshit. I disagree.”

Propping his joined hands on the table, Logan asked, “Why?”

“Why? Because that’s my opinion,” Roman said in a defensive manner.

“Yeah… but your reasoning?”

With a hasty glance to you, Roman hastily spun out, “Seriously, Gerri? To pay for cruises? We, what, we take out our senior woman? Haven’t we, you know—kidding, here, but—killed enough women already?”

“It’d look orchestrated. Gerri is just too obvious,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Sexual misconduct cases three decades ago, and we’d be placing the blame on general counsel and simply wiping our hands clean? Not to mention it’d just make Waystar look more… anti-women if we went down that route.”

Roman nodded. “Listen, I think the obvious choice here is, and I hate to say it because he’s such a swell guy, but—” he made a whistling noise and pointed to the man sitting across from him, “Tom.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you're the head of cruises, man.”

Kendall pursed his lips. “I gotta agree with Rome here. Tom, I fucking love you dude, but you shat the bed over Mo Lester.”

“But I was sent in there as the fucking beating man—I took the fucking beating!” 

Shiv shook the back of her head, making no effort to defend her husband.

“You got suckered in by Eavis,” said Kendall.

“I answered the questions!”

“You don’t answer the questions. Okay? That’s, like, rule one.” Kendall patted his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I’m not beating up on you here, I’m just saying that he got a win off you and you’re kinda the face of this now.”

Lifting her head up high, Shiv said, “Tom looks logical. Cruises, document destruction. It’d be laid out for us.”

Tom’s gaze swiveled to his wife, expression utterly torn. “What?” he croaked out.

“I’m not saying you should be,” the red-head defended. “But I’m just saying you’re like family, but you’re not… actually family, which is also good. Tom, it’s the elephant in the room. We can say that!”

“No, we can’t! There’s absolutely no need to speak of the elephant in the room! There’s fifteen other fucking elephants in this room!” With an angry scoff, Tom threw both his hands up. “If you want someone who’s family but not family, what about Y/N?”

Immediately, Roman let out a high-pitched, “No! Why would it—why the fuck should it be her?”

Tom’s face contorted under the scrutiny. “I don’t know. General manager of Waystar, and goddaughter to Logan sounds like a good fucking steak to throw to the lions.” At your confused expression, Tom quickly backed down. “I’m not actually saying Y/N. I’m just saying things! It just—it shouldn’t be me. What about you, huh, Shiv?”

“Okay, fine. How do I work?” she hissed out. 

“I don’t know!” Tom exclaimed, his voice raising a few notches in volume.

Gerri pursed her lips to the side and mentioned, “I mean, if we’re saying Shiv, we could highlight witness tampering and, uh, that she was going to take over but—I don’t know, it probably wouldn’t work.”

Shiv reared back as if she’d been stung. “Uh, yeah. Too fucking right it wouldn’t work. I don’t make sense, I’ve never been inside.”

“What about both of them? Shiv and Tom? Beauty and the beast,” Roman said.

“Does Tom work?” Logan asked. “Alone?”

A long beat of silence. 

In all honesty, you thought he’d work. The missing documents were more than enough to go off of. 

But Kendall shook his head, and it flew right out the window. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s a big enough skull. No offense.”

“Then how about Tom with some fucking… Greg sprinkles?” Roman asked, gesturing to his cousin, who’d managed to polish off all the grapes on the tray. One of the workers floated by to take the tray away, no doubt to fill it back up again.

“Greg sprinkles?” parroted Greg.

Wincing, you apologetically added, “I mean, you did destroy those documents for Tom, no? It’s—it's an aided crime. It works.”

Connor laughed. “Elmo and Big Bird. I could start to see that, yeah. You could throw in a Karl or a Frank, and you’re golden.”

“What—what precisely are Greg sprinkles?” asked the Roy cousin.

“Greg sprinkles are basically a fantastic garnish for practically anyone seated at this table,” Roman replied with a faux warm smile. “Like a Tom sundae with a little Greg cherry on top.” He popped his lips and Greg frowned.

“No, I object. I do. I mean—I’m more than a sprinkle! What about you, huh? What about Roman?”

“Roman?” you asked, cocking a brow. “How would he be a good candidate?”

“Well, he’s widely known as a terrible person!”

Roman snorted. “Thanks, Toe Jam.”

“There’s another elephant in the room,” Connor interrupted. “What about I just throw myself over the side, huh?”

Shiv laughed quietly, hiding her smile behind her palm.

“Yeah, just—in return for a payout. I’m cash strapped, so just lock me into that sweet, sweet golden parachute and toss me in the volcano!” said the oldest Roy sibling. On he blathered, about how he should be the one to take the fall.

Logan glanced around. “That’s… that’s kind of you, Con. Thank you. We’ll bear it in mind.” He smiled, but it wasn’t quite authentic. It wasn’t real. Connor slumped back, going largely ignored once again.

With that, Logan stood up. “We have half an idea but… yeah. Let’s do this later.”

Off he went, through the glass doors, gone to God knows where.

You and Roman exchanged a look. His was one of relief and gratitude, yours was one of exasperation. Then, Roman leaned forward to snatch the tray of grapes away from Greg, and offered a branch of the plump green fruits to you. 

Dinner left a stale taste in your mouth. Maybe it was because you weren’t particularly fond of the served courses. Maybe it was because of the rocking motions of the boat upsetting your stomach. Or maybe—maybe it was because Logan had finally chosen his sacrificial lamb.

Kendall stood beside his father with pursed lips. Logan nodded to the sitting group. “I’ve decided,” he simply said.

Incredulity danced across Roman’s expression, brows raised. “Ken?” he asked. “Come on, really? Dad, you—no. There’s… what about the… one of the other shitfuckers?”

Your eyes darted from your godfather, to Kendall, who took a seat across from you. He met your eyes, if only for a brief moment. A part of you felt bad for him—after all, to you he was always going to be the eight-year-old boy draped in a suit far too large for him, practicing a speech in front of the mirror for a nameless award he was going to accept one day. He’d make you and Roman sit down and listen to him, four and five years of age, expectantly turning to the two of you after he was done and asking if it sounded okay. Desperate for approval, even if the assurance came from two young kids with missing teeth and bored eyes.

He was practically your brother. You averted your gaze with mild shame burning within your chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” said Kendall. He looked around the table. “You’re all off the hook.”

Roman leaned forward and asked, uncharacteristically genuine, “You okay?”

Wordless, Kendall nodded. He was trying his best to stave away the frown tugging at the corners of his lips. There were tears warbling over his irises. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good.” 

But he wasn’t. Roman knew, and you knew, too.

Karl cleared his throat. “Is it just… I don’t wanna be rude here—is it just him?”

Gerri tilted her head. “First—uh, second-born son—with his responsibilities, it wouldn’t be a hard sell.”

“Roman,” said Logan. “You’re taking over as full chief operating officer.”

An indignant noise fell from his throat. “Yeah? What with Captain Cautious back in the other room?” 

“No, no. Frank’s going to be responsible for the cruises clean up. You’re on your own. Solo.” Logan stared at his youngest son. “Can you handle it?”

Beneath the table, Roman’s jostling knee bumped into yours. “Yeah,” he unenthusiastically said. “That’s really exciting.”

Kendall spared his little brother a lopsided smile. “No, Rome. It’s great. For real.” Then, he raised a fork. “Eat up, guys. This one’s on me.”

Day three on the boat. You woke up to Roman’s arms wrapped around your midriff, his face buried in the fabric over your chest. He sleepily mumbled and whined when you dragged yourself (and, effectively, him as well, seeing as he refused to let go of you) out of bed. The two of you brushed your teeth together before you promptly kicked him out of your room so you could take a quick shower in peace.

By the time the both of you got down to have breakfast, Greg was the one to tell you that Kendall had left earlier in the morning. 

“Right to his slaughter,” you mumbled to Rome, who’s face twisted with guilt.

An hour later, you were watching Kendall on the television. Shiv and Logan were on the couches, and Roman had both his hands resting on your shoulders, kneading your muscles as if you were a stress ball.

“I have been asked to explain my role in the management of illegality at the firm and associated cover ups. And it has been suggested that I would be a suitable figure to absorb the anger and concern,” said screen Kendall. To your surprise, his words were followed by, “But…”

You and Roman exchanged glances. He stopped working at your shoulders and crossed his arms. 

“The truth is that my father is a malignant presence. He is a liar, a bully, and was fully aware of the events that had transpired on the cruise ships for many years, and made efforts to hide and cover up. He had a twisted sense of loyalty to bad actors like Lester McClintock, and a disregard for the safety of migrant workers, union and non-union workers, along with vulnerable performers and guests.”

“Fuck me,” Roman whispered. Logan silently lifted a finger to his lips to shush him.

The Kendall on screen was vastly different to the puppet Kendall you’d come to know for the past few months. He’d finally broken free of his strings.

“My father keeps a watchful eye over his entire empire, and the notion that he would have allowed millions of dollars of settlements and compensation to be paid without his explicit approval is utterly fanciful. I have with me today copies of records that show his personal sign-off. How much those of us who executed his wishes bear responsibility is for another day.” 

Shiv briefly twisted around to shoot you an utterly dumbfounded look, as if to ask you if you’d known he was going to do this. You sent her an equally befuddled expression.

“But I think…” said Kendall, “This is the day his reign ends.”

With that, Kendall got up and walked off to the side, out of the camera’s view. You couldn’t see it, for Logan was facing the screen, but there was a slight smile on your godfather’s face.

#roman roy x reader #roman roy fanfiction #roman roy smut #roman roy fluff #roman roy series #roman roy ff #roman roy angst #roman roy x you #roman roy fanfic #succession roman #succession roman x reader #roman roy #succession fanfiction #succession x reader #roman roy imagine

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 32

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Well, this escalated in a way I didn't plan.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is a low drone. You can hear his curt tone as he comes through the front door. His slither is met by a booming timbre that makes you jump. Thor speaks loudly, enough for some of his words to thunder through the walls that divide you.

Your ears pulse as you try not to listen. You know you shouldn’t. By Laufeyson’s reaction alone, you know his brother is less than welcome. Thor’s presence brings you little peace yourself as the memory of his creeping touch crawls up your spine.

You sit behind the laptop and try to focus on the screen. If you can distract yourself, it will be over soon enough and Thor will be gone. Maybe then, you can figure out why Mr. Laufeyson has turned to ice.

“...is she?” The two words echo and jar you from your failing battle.

Laufeyson’s response is short and sharp. You fill in the blanks of his deflection; ‘none of your concern’.

“...busy cleaning up your messes, eh?” Thor’s taunting question rolls upwards as footsteps hammer up the stairs, stopped halfway as another pair shuffle after them.

“I did not welcome you in,” Laufeyson is clearer now. You assume they are on the staircase with how their voices waft airily.

“Always the gracious host,” Thor counters.

“Do not lecture me on grace. Say what you’ve come to say and go. I’m busy–”

“Oh, yes, if I had a little maid like that, I’d always be busy as well–”

“Get on with it,” Laufeyson snarls.

Thor laughs heartily, “brother, one day you will see we are more alike than you care to accept. Maybe then you would see that it is the crux of our problems. You might even appreciate our shared tastes–”

“If you’ve only come to ramble, I’m not interested. I’ve spent enough time entertaining you lot–”

“You speak as if we are enemies,” Thor accuses, “you cannot waste time on family.”

“Ah, because kinship has always been sacred in your heart,” Laufeyson scoffs, “you are like a storm, you bluster but only make a mess. Say what you came to say and leave me be. I’ve work to do. Real work.”

“Well, if I am to deliver my message, I think both recipients should receive it, don’t you?”

“Say it,” Laufeyson hisses.

“But it is meant for both of you. The little maid as well–”

You sit up straight and tweak your head. You shouldn’t listen but you’re caught now. You cannot keep from overhearing.

“House manager,” Laufeyson girds, “I’m certain I can efficiently communicate whatever nonsense has drawn you here.”

“And they say I am stubborn,” Thor snorts, “Walpurgisnacht.”

“Walpurgisnacht?” Laufeyson echoes the single word.

“Surely you recall the old ways.”

“Don’t,” Laufeyson warns.

“Mother is having a celebration. Like when we were young. Father’s agreed to it.”

“She didn’t mention.”

“Ah, yes, well, you’ve much going on. She sent me to inquire after the little maid– house manager. She would require help with arranging the festivities.” Thor explains, “oh, and you’re invited too, I suppose.”

“She has her staff, does she not?”

“Frida is too old. She only serves tea and Gertrude’s never been very strong-minded. Mother needs input, not an empty vessel.”

“Charming,” Laufeyson remarks, "well, I will consider it. Next time, tell mother to call.”

“There will be many old faces. Many may even be happy to see you,” Thor goads.

“I wouldn’t expect so,” Laufeyson retorts, “must I ask you to leave anon?”

Another rolling guffaw fills the house. You hear a grunt from Laufeyson and a muted thump. Thor quiets with a sigh, “ah, fine, fine, I shall leave you to your little– house manager. You will tell her I say hello.”

Silence roils through the air. A scuff cuts through the tension and footfalls clamour down the stairs. The front door opens and closes, leaving you to wallow in the dark cloud left behind. Mr. Laufeyson’s long exhale blows up the staircase ahead of him and you listen to his approach.

You look at the door, expecting him to come through any moment. But it isn’t that one he opens. It’s the study door that slams with a terrible force. His growl permeates through and the adjoined door clicks as the lock is flicked into place. You stare at it and frown.

You don’t suppose his mood will thaw any time soon.

✨

Mr. Laufeyson does not emerge for supper. You barely eat anything yourself as anxiety tortures your stomach. You clean up after yourself and retreat upstairs. 

You near the study, lingering before the door as you pluck up your courage. You tap softly on the wood. There’s no answer. You didn’t hear him go but maybe you missed it.

“I made dinner, Mr. Laufeyson. I’ve left you a plate in the oven,” you speak through the wood, to the ghost on the other side.

You traipse away in defeat. You’re entirely confused. What did you do so wrong? Even before his brother’s unprompted visit, Mr. Laufeyson was coolly apathetic. Yet that morning, in the shower, he’d been on fire, consuming you like flames.

Maybe you’re not good enough. Maybe you didn’t kiss him just right or make the noises he liked. Oh, but how are you supposed to know what to do?

You sit at the writing desk and tap your fingers on your chin. You squirm in your chair as the scene in the shower replays in your head. You tear it apart, trying to pick out the exact moment of your offense.

You shift on the seat and the throbbing pressure in your core ripples through you. Just the thought of his touch has you alight. You touch your hot cheeks and flutter your lashes. You shouldn’t be worried about all that, you should be working on that spread sheet.

You glance over at the study door. The house is stagnant once more. Just like those early days when you made your slow progress with a broom and mop. Something’s gone terribly wrong. Maybe… you should just leave.

You put your fingers mindlessly to the touch pad of the computer. You swirl around the cursor mindlessly. You blow out through your lips and sit up, another fraught peek towards the door.

You bring both your hands over the keyboard. No, you shouldn’t. 

You need to figure this out. You need to know what you did, or didn’t do. You can be what he wants you to be, you have to. You have nothing else.

You type, then backspace, then type again. After several times, you hit search. You click through to a site with a black background and gasp at the obscene ads that fill the margins. 

You bite down as you try to focus past the small thumbnails. You key into the search bar ‘shower’. You hover your finger over the enter key before you will yourself to hit it.

The search results are just as chaotic. You don’t know what you’re looking for. ‘Best Shower Scenes STEAMY’. Your insides tickle and you squeeze your thighs together. Invisible flames lick at you and cluster in your chest.

You mute the computer as the video loads. The house is so quiet that you’re aware of every creak and crack. You fidget as you sit through the ad of a woman giggling over a URL for meet-ups. You press your hands to your thigh, sitting forward so your weight rests on your pelvis, dampening the tingly heat.

The video begins. A woman with caramel coloured hair and a curvy body. You admire her figure and peer down at your own. Maybe that’s it, maybe you’re not hot enough? You remember how Mr. Laufeyson touched you all over, almost as if he was examining you. Did you disappoint?

You flick your eyes back up as a man enters and they step into the shower booth. You chew your lip as you fixate on his large dick. He’s very big but you think Mr. Laufeyson is too. You’re not sure. This isn’t helping, you still don’t understand anything.

They kiss and fondle each other. You lean forward, watching with a stitch between your brows. The woman drags her hands down the man’s body and gets to your knees. She pumps him with her hand and licks his tip, dragging her tongue down his length. He grabs her head and forces himself into her mouth.

She takes him greedily. Oh. That could be it. Last night, you were so afraid, and you got all teary, and you didn’t know what you were doing. 

You watch her as she touches his sack, squeezing then works her hand in tandem with her mouth on his dick. You put your hand to the side of your neck and hold your breath. You wiggle on the chair, the friction making your own arousal more obvious.

Finally, the woman stands, the man lifting her by her hair. He spins her and bends her forward. She braces the wall and as he slaps her ass several times before gripping her hip. He’s so rough. You don’t know if you could handle that.

He slides into her and your mouth falls open. Her thighs quake and your own give a tremble. Your walls clench as the pressure knots in you. The thought of doing that with Mr. Laufeyson both frightens you and excites you.

You twiddle your fingers and blink at the screen. The furrow in your forehead deepens as you lean forward. You put your fingers along the touchpad but don’t press them down.

“Ahem,” Mr. Laufeyson startles you as he clears his throat.

You sit up and quickly hit the X in the corner. Your throat closes as you struggle to breathe, caught but not entirely. He stands in the doorway between the study and library. From that angle, he can’t see what’s on your screen.

“You are working hard,” he muses as he strides in with crossed arms.

“Yes, sir,” you answer breathily. You stare him in the face, too afraid to look anywhere else as your mind dares to imagine the shower again, both of you naked, this time, you’re bent over and he’s behind you. “Um, did you get your dinner?”

You close the laptop as you stand. You wince as the fabric of your panties clings to your wet cunt. You feel like he can see right through you.

“I’m not hungry,” he stops on the other side of the desk.

“Okay,” you swallow and your eyes flit side to side.

“I never told you to come out,” he drops his arms, placing his hand on the desk as he leans over it.

“Pardon?” You blink furiously.

“I said to remain in here until I told you it was safe. If you made my dinner, then you did not obey me.”

“I… Mr. Laufeyson, your brother’s gone–”

“And how could you know for sure if I did not confirm it?” He challenges with a wry tilt in his head. “I’ve been patient, pet, but I think you may require a different sort of discipline.”

“Mr. Laufeyson?” You babble, “I’m sorry–”

“Your apologies grow tiresome,” he huffs and stands straight. “Come here,” he points between him and the desk.

You put your head down and swiftly walk around the desk. He swirls his finger in the air and you turn your back to him. He backs away and rounds to the side of the desk.

“Hands down,” he nods to the desktop.

You press your palms flat, bent slightly at the waist. He considers you and strokes his chin with a hum. He circles the desk and you in a single, patient lap.

“Stay as you are.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you utter.

“Ah, no talking,” he warns, “remember your rules, pet.”

You gulp as he turns and struts away. Is it okay again? You can’t tell. He’s still rigid and painfully formal. He hasn’t touched you, he seems to be avoiding getting close. You stare at the wood beneath your hands and shiver.

You hear him in his study. You glance over as he appears in the door frame, his hands hidden behind him. He tuts. “Head forward.”

You look ahead and focus on the wall. He nears, his shadow skewed in the lamplight. He stands behind you, a foot away and he hums. He clucks and strolls around the desk to face you.

He pulls his hands from behind his back, revealing a thick leather strap. The brown leather is faded and cracked. Your eyes round as you stare at it and he brings it taught between his hands.

“Flogging is historically a long held practice. For the monk in his self-flagellation, for the heathen in his cell, and… for the woman in her disobedience,” he explains as his lips curl. “Spare the rod, spoil the child…” He takes a breath, “and you, pet, are growing spoiled.”

Your lips part but you don’t speak. You must follow the rules. This is the test. If you fail this, then it’s over. If you fail, you have nothing.

He walks along the desk and rounds the corner, brushing by as he purrs, “remember your rules. Not a sound.”

He comes up behind you and you hold your breath. He tugs at the back of your skirt and shudders. He pulls the fabric above your ass, his hand trailing along the back of your panties. He hooks his finger in the elastic and tears them down to your thighs. You quiver and clench your jaw tight, fighting back a squeak.

He stretches the leather across your ass. It’s cool and smooth. You twitch as bumps rise across your skin. He pulls back and you lower your head. You wait. Nothing. 

You cautiously raise your chin and look back. He snaps the whip across your ass as you do and you spasm with the hot flash of pain. He points to the wall in a wordless demand. Eye forward. You turn your attention back to the grey blue paint as your eyes glisten. He strikes you again, the agony scalding across the swell of your ass.

Your thighs shake as he pulls back again. You await a third but it never comes. You don’t dare move. He paces behind you. You watch his shadow cast before you and he moves abruptly forward. You bite your tongue as he lashes you again. Harder as he lets out a thick grunt.

Your hands slip and you fall forward. You plant your palms more firmly as you push yourself straight. A fourth comes and sends tendrils down to your toes. You hiss through your teeth, quaking, fighting not to collapse.

You deserve this. Whatever you’ve done, you’ve earned this. 

A fifth and your knees knock together. You barely keep afoot as the sixth lands with extra bite. Seven, eight, nine… He lashes you in quick succession, as if he cannot stop himself. The tenth has you heaving, about to vomit with the pain.

He stops himself, his shadow holding up the stap. He lowers it and steps back. He sighs and turns away.

“Tomorrow you will pack for our departure,” he declares, “we leave on Friday.”

We? So you are to go with him. You don’t dare ask or say a single word. You stay as you are, shaking as you roll your eyes back against the flood.

“You will be on your best behaviour,” he warns as he nears the study door, “I trust this lesson will not be forgotten.”

He passes into the study and the door closes harshly. Your legs fold and collapse beneath you. You land in a heap, holding yourself off your ass as you whimper. You won’t ever forget.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #dark fic #fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 9.

Summary: In Oliver's time of need, you and Felix put the past altercation behind you both to be there for him when he says he needs you both. None of you are given time to breathe, however, as end of year exams begin and you and Felix have to remember how to be good students, all the while Venetia appears to be getting bored and is getting more desperate to have you come back to Saltburn.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: discussions of oliver's father dying, also exam stress

A/N: 3265 words. a bit shorter than the past few, but chapter 10 i think will end our time at oxford so im already starting on that as we speak and it will be out soon!! a more chill one, apart from, of course, the ollie's dad thing. plus we get some Venetia in here!! i love her, she's such a menace. already excited to share more with you all <3

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Oh God, oh fucking God, Oliver looked so small.

Felix had opened the door looking downright helpless, and from behind him, Oliver's voice broke as all he could manage was 'hi, Y/N'. You can hear his voice is thick with tears and barely restrained grief. When you to Felix, questions in your eyes, he has no real answer for you, just steps aside.

"What's wrong?" Immediately you're by Oliver's side, one hand on his knee where he's curled up on himself, sitting in the middle of Felix's floor.

"I didn't know what else to do," Felix admits weakly, more for Oliver's sake than your own as he closed the door. It's dark, blinds drawn, quiet in the mid-morning. Oliver doesn't look up from the floor.

"Needed you here," Oliver mumbled against his knees, "both of us." He sniffles faintly, shifts his feet a little closer to himself. Felix is fidgeting, still shifting his weight from one foot to the other by the door, watching you both. Oliver looks up at him through tear-stained lashes, and finally Felix sinks down, across from both of you.

Still, you have no real idea of what's happened, but when you look to Oliver, he chances another glance to Felix before focusing back in on his shoes.

"His, uh," Felix starts awkwardly, still watching Oliver, as if unsure if this was how he wanted to break the news. Oliver gives a jerky nod of his head, and another sniffle, and Felix looks to you with that same, grim expression he'd worn at the door, "Ollie's dad died," he says softly, "he just found out."

Oliver presses his face into his knees, like even hearing it like that upsets him, his whole body trembling. In an instant you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you for a tight hug.

"I'm okay," he tries to insist with a watery voice, clearly holding back tears, and Felix reaches out to rest a comforting hand on his shin.

"You're not alright, mate, and you don't have to be," he assures, quickly scooting himself over to Oliver's other side, mirroring you with his arms around Oliver too, resting his head on Oliver's shoulder.

"No, I promise, it's just shock, it's -" Oliver continues, desperately trying to reign in his emotions, "he was a- a drunk, and off his face the rest of the time, I probably should have expected something like this," but his heart's not in it.

"He's still family," Felix mumbles against his shoulder. Oliver is very quiet, but you can both feel when he shifts, even a little, his head raising to rest his cheek against Felix's hair.

"I told Oliver he should look into getting an exemption for his exams," Felix says after a few moments, to which Oliver immediately tries to protest, while you wrack your brains for solutions. Of course you agree, a death in the family would warrant -

"I can't, I already told you I can't," Oliver insisted. He looks frantic, gaze never straying from Felix as he sits up, "I'm on a scholarship, I can't miss the exams!"

"Is there anything you could do?" Felix pleads with you, the two of you sitting astride of Oliver and seemingly ignoring his own pleas for the moment. But even in these moments where you deliberate, Oliver's desperate gaze clings to Felix alone.

"I can look into it, I've got to make a trip to admin later today anyways -"

"No!" Oliver finally snapped. There were tears pricking his eyes as he held out his hands to you both, as if demanding space and silence, staring dead ahead, unable to look either of you in the eyes, "this is all I have. I don't get a second chance at being here. I don't get a second chance at being anywhere. I know I will be fine," he takes a deep, sharp breath, wetting his lips, "tomorrow."

"Fine," Felix finally breathes, cutting through the silence. Both of you still focus on Oliver, tense like a time bomb, but slowly letting himself relax.

"Thank you," he mutters, but doesn't curl in on himself this time. He stretches his legs out in front of him, then his arms, fingers reaching and twisting after being all coiled up together for so long.

"If - if," Felix begins tentatively, "you wake up before your first exam and you're not fine, will you tell us and let us take care of it for you?"

"You mean let Y/N break into my academic records?" Oliver asked wryly, turning to Felix, but there was little malice behind it. Felix, glad to see Oliver hadn't taken it as an insult, grins sheepishly.

"I don't ask how they do what they do," he hesitates, "but yeah, probably," he glances over Oliver's head at you and you hold up your hands, wiggling your fingers.

"A magician never reveals his secrets." Both boys snort a laugh at that, and Oliver leans back carefully, laying on the rug.

"If I do end up feeling like that, I'll tell you, but I promise I'll be okay."

"Tomorrow," you remind him, laying back to join him and petting him on the arm in solidarity.

"Tomorrow," Oliver agreed softly. Felix is the last to join you all in laying back, looking over at you and Oliver rather than at the ceiling like the two of you.

"So would you like to do anything today? If you just want to stay here and do nothing, we can do that too -"

"I don't want to stay around here," Oliver blurts out, "I just want to get off of campus and out of my head for a day, with you guys. Is that- can I -?"

There's something almost childlike in the way that he speaks, the way that he clings to your friendship in his time of need. Neither you nor Felix could say no to him, not that you wanted to. Yesterday's altercation was forgotten, today you'd both do anything to make Oliver happy.

Lunch in town, a movie that the three of you talk through at the back of an empty theatre, and late afternoon in a Tesco, buying ingredients for dinner that you and Felix vow to cook for Oliver in one of your dorm's shared kitchens. Your phone's been buzzing throughout the day, particularly insistent, but you don't feel the urge to pull yourself from this afternoon, these moments to check it.

There's something about browsing the aisles together, something domestic and comforting about arguing over pasta ingredients and whether it was worth it to buy pre-made sauce or to make your own. Oliver watches you both so fondly, all hints of his earlier distress having left him, so it seems. The day felt like a success.

The pasta turns out to be far more of a success than any of you were anticipating, honestly; between you and Felix you made one decent cook. Sitting on the communal sofa, bowls all balanced on your knees, you and Felix are eating for a few moments before you realise Oliver's just been staring at his, strange look on his face.

"Promise it's edible," Felix says, half his mouth full, nudging Oliver's shoulder. You, however, finish your mouthful before speaking.

"Everything okay, Ollie?"

"Haven't had a home cooked meal for years," Oliver sounds almost like he's breathless from the realisation, and certainly like he's holding back tears. Both you and Felix, somehow on the same wavelength without even trying, both move your bowls, and then Oliver's to the coffee table, wrapping him up in a hug. Felix, of course, may have been a bit overenthusiastic, and all three of you end up tipped onto your side, squishing you into the old sofa. When you all right yourselves, laughing nonetheless, Oliver's beaming even as he's blinking away tears.

The night ends with Felix walking you and Oliver back to your respective dorms. By your door, you hug them both, giving Oliver a kiss on the cheek.

"I know exams are intense, but don't be a stranger, okay?"

"I won't," he nods a little bashfully, grinning at the dirt.

"We love you, we have every faith in you."

"I know," he says with a half smile, "if I do shit and get kicked out, how will I see you guys anymore?"

"Don't talk like that!" Felix gasps in mock horror, hand over his heart, ever the dramatic one, "do well of course, but don't talk like that!"

"Good night, boys," you chuckle, letting yourself into your room, hearing their banter pick up as they headed out towards Oliver's, the night so much warmer and brighter than the day had started.

Finally, flopping onto your bed, you reach down to grab the charger to plug it in when you finally see who's been texting you so insistently.

Venetia.

ven my love: can't believe youre still losing scraps against fars XD

That was last night, wasn't it? God, what a snitch Farleigh was sometimes, you roll your eyes to yourself, continuing to read the messages she'd been sending after getting no reply from you.

ven my love: dishonor on you dishonor on your cow ven my love: looking forward to summer obvs :-* ven my love: miss u ven my love: is it tru that youre fucking felixs newest toy?? ven my love: the one farleigh hates lol ven my love: is that why u and far got in a tiff? ven my love: ignoring me i see ven my love: youre no fun :(

Sighing deeply, you think carefully as you read through the texts once more before starting your reply.

Y/N: miss you too ven

Her response comes less than a minute later, before you could even properly address any of her other comments.

ven my love: FINALLY Y/N: fi nd me were with ollie all day. i have a life outside of you ven my love: boo no u dont i never agreed to that ven my love: and whats so special about ollie?? ive heard what farleigh thinks about him Y/N: fars is biased ven my love: and you and felix are the pinnacle of impartiality.......

You could almost see her rolling her eyes behind her phone, sarcasm practically dripping from the screen, knowing Venetia. She had a point, but you didn't want to acknowledge it. However, she didn't even give you time before your phone chimes with another text.

ven my love: he's felix's new eddie isnt he

There's something that reads as smug in the message and you have to snap your phone shut to avoid the sudden rage building up inside of you. Part of you would always, unconditionally love Venetia, you knew as much, and part of you would always have an unconditional distaste for Eddie for reasons you refuse to think deeply about, but Felix had fucking loved him. Their shared betrayal shattered parts of him that he still hadn't fully recovered from, and you may not have loved Eddie, but you'd never forgive him for how happy he made Felix, only to rip that away by fucking around with Venetia.

ven my love: ignoring me again ven my love: god you're SO sensitive

Venetia's callousness about it all was one of the few things that set you on edge, and she knew this. Felix pretended to be above it all, but Venetia took some small semblance of joy knowing she was one of the few people able to get under your skin when she wanted.

You finally reply, scowling at your phone the entire time you wait for her expectedly blasé response.

Y/N: one day fi is gonna deck u for what happened with eddie and im not gonna defend you im gonna laugh ven my love: felix is a baby about what happened but he wouldn't hit me and u know it :p Y/N: then i will Y/N: don't test me ven you know id do it too ven my love: touchy touchy... youre so mean

Is all she sends back for the night. Though you go to sleep unfortunately angry, you wake up surprisingly refreshed, and with a single text, from Ollie this time, thanking you and Felix for yesterday, and once again reassuring you that he was much better today.

Exams keep you all busy for the next few days, nights at the pub traded in for all hours in the library amongst the books and struggling to keep each other on task. Oliver becomes something of a recluse, but always answers your texts when you check in on him.

Farleigh's incredibly unhelpful when it comes to studying; he's always been incredibly academically gifted, and is somehow breezing through his first year exams, seemingly only coming to your study sessions for the company. It frustrates Felix to no end, who's had his head buried in his notes far more than anyone else in your group had expected. Some of them tease him, but once they realise how serious he is about doing well in his exams, they leave him be.

As much as his reputation was easy going, he was still Felix Catton; he wouldn't let himself fail with so many eyes on him. That was something you had in common, even if the eyes on you weren't immediately apparent.

Studying with Felix is quiet when it's just the two of you. You quiz each other in the quiet of the library for classes you share, compare notes and quietly bicker about lectures you both only half remember. Often he gets tired of it all before you, so you read out from whatever textbook you're trying to get into, and let him draw in the margins of your notebook.

Geometric patters with no rhyme or reason, swirls, creatures that resemble no living animal despite what he says, rough sketches of eyes focused with brows furrowed, lips bitten or speaking, things he shrugs at and sheepishly has no explanation for when you finally look up from your textbook.

It's almost midnight, you're slowing down as your eyes are stinging for how long you've been focusing on your business textbook. Felix has forgone even messing with your notes and is now slumped over, chin on the table as he gazes out into the middle distance. Beneath the table, he's fidgeting idly with your free hand, playing with your fingers idly as he listens to you rattle off -

"Now moving on, we come to the most effective strategies for profit maximisation within a consumer-first business model -" around a yawn, but Felix can't help but interrupt.

"God, why the fuck are we even taking Econ?" He puffs out his cheeks petulantly.

"This isn't Econ," you yawn again, and he flops his head to the side, cheek flush against the notes he was ignoring, looking particularly tired and childish, "it's, um, Business Marketing, I think?" Felix blows a loud raspberry, and you realise that you're probably not going to get anything else done.

"Why did I sign up for Business Marketing? Doesn't sound like me."

"I signed up for Business Marketing because I thought it'd be good for my future," you rattled off with a put-upon air, closing your textbook and attempting to clean up your scattered notes with one hand, "and I said Felix you're going to hate this, just like you hated it back in first year, but you insisted, no, like a foolish hero," you rolled your eyes, "refusing to let me suffer alone."

"Fuck past-Felix," present-Felix pouts, "can't believe he's done this to me." It's enough to make you laugh, however, and you give him a gentle pet, thanking him for his sacrifice even if it didn't seem worth it to him in that current moment. Finally he sits up, letting go of your hand and taking the hint to start collecting up his own things.

"We should get to bed, so tomorrow-Felix doesn't hate you during his nine-am Econ exam -" Felix cuts you off with a loud groan, throwing his head back in despair.

"Why the fuck am I taking Econ again?" He demanded to know, shoving his things into his bag with the kind of vitriol the poor papers really didn't deserve.

"Because you promised your dad you would."

"Fuck, right," he groaned, "remind me, next year, I'm only taking art and theatre classes. My exams are going to be interpretive dance, and Jackson Pollock recreations," slinging his bag over his shoulder, he levels an unimpressed look at where you're doing badly at repressing your amused grin, "I'm serious Y/N."

"I know, Fi," you snicker, you can't help yourself, petting him on the shoulder as the two of you head out of the library together.

"It's going to be avant garde and it'll be the easiest exam I ever do; spunk and a black light on canvas," Felix, seemingly having slipped into that state just past tired where he starts speaking nonsense, keeps going, "out of spite," he adds.

"Is this for the interpretive dance or the Jackson Pollock recreation?" You smirk, playing along with the bit, "and will it be your spunk or random peoples' spunk? Talk me through the application process."

"It'll be my submission for both;" he says, far too sure of himself, "just me, dick in hand, in front of the exam people," he deliberates for a moment, "black light in the other hand," and he nods very firmly, as if set on his plan, "it's provocative, it's confronting and will make them reconsider what art is; I'll get a perfect score." Then, under his breath, "fucking nine o'clock Econ exam." And you pat his back in solidarity, arriving outside of his dorm. With a heavy sigh he wraps you up in a hug, and kisses you on the forehead.

"I'll be by at eight-thirty to make sure you don't miss it."

"Fucking nine o'clock fucking Econ fucking exam," is all Felix says with a shake of his head, heading inside as you chuckle to yourself.

In bed, once again winding down for the night, you notice another text from Venetia, the first in several days.

ven my love: still mad at me? Y/N: depends on what u want now ven my love: i can work with that ;) ven my love: come manhandle me im bored Y/N: and im several hours away from you and more importantly an exam ven my love: i'll pay for your train ticket. first class xx\ ven my love: i'll hire a carriage and make duncan pull it like a horse all the way to oxford and back. ven my love: i'll only wear nice lingerie and you can have your way with me in the back like in pride and prejudice ;) Y/N: thats not what happens in pride and prejudice ven my love: it is in my head. kiera knightly is so fit Y/N: youre thinking of that scene in the titanic ven my love: thats kate winslet ven my love: but yeah i am ven my love: for my birthday can you hire leo dicaprio to come to my party so i can shag him in the back of a carriage ven my love: come on you can afford it Y/N: ill shag you in the back of a carriage or a car or anywhere you want when i next see you Y/N: for free ven my love: ugh fine luv u. come home soon xx

And honestly, even with only a few exams left to go, you can't help but agree. Soon can't come soon enough.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #venetia catton imagine #venetia catton x reader #venetia catton x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

[chrisevansleftpeck]

Kitty Games

Word Count: 1k

Spencer Reid x Reader

Content Warnings: None :)

“This one!” You pointed at a small brown kitten, curled up in a ball inside of a cage. “Oh, Spencer, please say yes, please say yes.” You’d finally managed to drag Spencer to the pound after a long argument about adopting an animal. It took five months for him to even agree on getting a cat, but four more months to decide on whether to adopt or rescue. Finally, an agreement had been made.

Spencer smiled down at the kitten’s mud-colored fur. He chuckled a little under his breath at the kitten’s meows at you as you offered your hand out in front of its cage. Still crouched at the kitty’s level, you turned your head towards Spencer. 

“I didn’t say a thing.” Though Spencer couldn’t hide his smile as he pretended to doubt the kitten’s cuteness.

“It’s a girl, Spence. But she’s a baby and doesn’t have a name yet.” You waved your hand at Spencer to crouch down next to you. He shook his head in protest but was forced down as you unexpectedly yanked at his hand. “See that?” You pointed at the information attached to the kitten’s cage. “No home, no prospective buyers. She’s all ours if we want her.” 

Spencer’s face softened as he looked at the kitty, watching her lick at her paws and purr. No doubt in his mind she was the one. Yet still… “I don’t know y/n. I don’t know if she’s the one.” 

Your mind whirred. You couldn’t not take this cat. What if someone else rescued her by the next time you visited the pound? “Baby, please. She’s perfect and I love her a lot. I really really want her.” 

“We can’t make a choice in one day. Let’s revisit this over the weekend, okay?” Spencer watched as his words broke your heart, but deep down he knew it’d be worth it. However, Spencer didn’t expect your sadness to turn into anger so quickly. 

You shot up and started towards the door. Spencer followed you out into the cold quickly, “I’m eating with Penelope, Em, and JJ in two hours anyways. I’ll ask one of them to pick me up from here.”

Spencer looked puzzled, you were upset with him. For real. “We- we came here together though.”

“Well I don’t feel like going home alone without a cat right now. But since you do, I think you’ll do just fine going home without me too.” You were making no sense at this point. You were in a post-pound funk after seeing so many sweet babies without a home or place to live.

Spencer reached for your hand in distress, but you just yanked it away. “Alright. But I’m not leaving until I see you get into a car.” 

“Fine.” You whispered.

“Fine.” Spencer bit back, really hoping this game would be worth it. 

___________________________________________________________

As soon as Spencer knew he was in the clear, he ran back inside the pound and wasted no time rescuing that kitten. He’d calculated that he’d probably have about four hours to get the cat and set everything up, so there was no time to waste. 

Straight from the pound with a brand new kitty, Spencer drove to Petco and picked up a pink fluffy dome-shaped cat bed, much bigger than the kitty, which he thought was funny. On his trip he also picked up an array of cat food and other necessities such as food and water bowls, litter, a litter box, scoopers, everything he’d need. 

That left him with two hours to set up the kitty’s toys and new purchases in the apartment. He spent every minute carefully, building the kitty’s perfect new scratching post, kitty palace of a bed, and filling a little cookie jar with tiny cat treats. All done, Spencer waited in the living room with his kitty in his lap, a big pink bow tied around her, so that he could see your reaction as soon as you walked in. 

You made it into the apartment around 9:40 and slid a to-go meal across the kitchen counter. It was a little something you’d picked up for Spencer. No matter how upset you were, you loved him and would always look after him.

“Hey, we missed you.” Spencer stood up from the couch, extending the wrapped kitty in his arms out to you. 

Your hands shot up to your mouth. “Oh my god. Spencer-” You dragged on as your eyes began to cloud. Spencer carefully laid her in your arms, unwrapping the pink bow around her. “Oh my god, I feel horrible, horrible, horrible.” You whispered as you pet your new kitty.

“I knew to pull off the surprise I’d have to make you sad, but I didn’t think you’d be mad.” He laughed, watching you place a little kiss on the kitten’s small head. Your heart melted as she purred into the kiss.

“Oh! And she has toys, oh my god. It’s so perfect,” You finally looked up at Spencer with a little tear running down your cheek, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Spencer shook his head, just wrapping you and his baby kitten up into a big family hug. “Don’t be.” He placed a kiss on both you and the kitten. “What’s our baby’s name?”

“Hmmm.” You thought with a smile. “Muffin.”

“Ooh, I love Muffin.” Spencer replied, making you giggle. You watched as Spencer’s eyes studied your lips. “I love you. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you so much more. Thank you for the world, plus my kitty.” You placed a kiss on Spencer’s nose in return, then went back to stroking Muffin’s back. 

Spencer raised his hand to your face, “Our kitty.” He claimed with a smile.

“Our kitty.” You corrected yourself, pulling Spencer and your mutual furbaby into a tight, loving, thankful squeeze. The long day made sense now. Everything was worth that moment. Everything was worth little Muffin Reid.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

I’m starting a taglist, if you’d like to be added just comment!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Taglist:

-  @goobysgoobers

#criminalminds #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Spencer Reid x Fem!Readr #dad!spence #catdad!spence #dad!spencer #catdad!spencer #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

[marlynnofmany]

Racetracking

“The good news,” announced the gravelly voice of Mimi the tentacle alien, “Is that this model defaults to zero-g when it breaks.” He led the way down the corridor with tentacle slaps instead of footsteps, which managed to sound exasperated.

I had the brief thought that he was louder than Mur and Wio when he walked, possibly because he spent so much time in the engine room where everything was noisy. But I put that thought aside. I had a pretty good idea what the bad news was.

“The bad news,” Mimi grumbled, “Is that the carrying cage that these high-paying customers insisted on is so broken that I can’t fix it. Even with the right tools.”

“So we have animals in zero-g,” I said.

Mimi waved a tentacle in a way that I privately found hilarious. “We just took off! Just! It’s like they’re trying to frame us for damages!”

I looked at him in alarm. “Are we sure they’re not?”

He made a dismissive motion, still walking. “That’s what the cameras in the storage holds are for. There’s proof that no one dropped it or whatever. And I think Captain Sunlight is already talking to them about it, which is a conversation I do not envy her.”

I winced. “Yeah. Which animals? It’s just one of the carriers, right?”

“The little ones. I dunno what they’re called. They were alive when I left, but they looked pretty upset.”

That didn’t narrow it down. As the ship’s resident animal expert, I’d had a look at each of the half-dozen life support chambers that passed for carriers among the rich folks. Each of them held a different type of little furry whatsit in wild colors. Each was sealed with its own supply of air and gravity — or at least it was supposed to be.

I couldn’t hear any distressed noises yet, but when Mimi poked the button for the door, it slid open to a chorus of muffled squeaks.

The six chambers were lined up in a row, on display in the center of the room, with nothing close enough to so much as touch them. Five held animals calmly nosing around the bottom.

One held a whirling tornado of blue fur.

I dashed over to peer through the glass, hands dancing uncertainly. I shouldn’t touch it, shouldn’t open it. But—!

…But.

I looked closer. “They’re running.” I dropped my hands and stared.

Mimi plopped down next to me. “Is that bad?”

“No, it’s just — Look at them! They’re doing this on purpose!” I started to smile as I realized why the squeaks sounded familiar. “They’ve made their own hamster wheel.”

“A what now?” Mimi wanted to know.

I gestured vaguely. “It’s an exercise thing for animals like this where I’m from. A wheel that they run inside of, and it keeps spinning. These guys—” I pointed at the chamber. “—Have created their own.”

“Uh-HUH.” Mimi tilted his head to watch the antics, which were slowing down as they noticed us. “That is a strange reaction to zero-gravity.”

“I’ve heard of mice that did that, actually,” I said as a memory surfaced. “It took them a while to make a game of it. I wonder if this isn’t the first time the carrier’s gravity has gone screwy.”

Mimi held a curl of tentacle thoughtfully to his face. “That is an interesting data point. The captain will want to know.” He lowered it. “And if you’re sure these things aren’t about to die of organ explosion or whatever, then we should go tell her.”

The blue furry things — which did honestly look a lot like mice — had settled down to some more even-tempered bumping around in there. None were limping as far as I could tell, and none had been knocked unconscious or worse.

“I think they’re okay,” I said, looking closely. “The food dispenser is closed, thankfully, so there aren’t any pellets or globs of water floating about. They just got a bit of excitement.”

Mimi levered himself off the floor. “They’re not the only ones,” he grumbled. “Annoying little meatsticks must be in cahoots with the rich jerks, trying to make our lives harder. Why would they even do that?”

I gave the chamber one last look, then stood and followed him toward the door. “I dunno, it looks like fun. Probably a lot of animals would enjoy that if they knew it was an option.”

Mimi stared at me with one large eye. “Animals from your planet.”

“Well, yeah. Probably others too.”

He made a wet-sounding snort of skepticism and led the way into the hall.

I followed, smiling. “Come on, it looks like fun. I was just thinking it would be neat to try in a zero-g room, though flat walls wouldn’t be as good as curved ones.”

“Your planet’s full of weirdos. You know that, right?”

“Oh, it’s been said before.”

~~~

Thanks to this post for inspiration! It was too good an idea to pass up.

Anyways, this is the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. But you probably already knew that.

#toldja I'd find a way to use it in a story #short one today #posted early #gonna be traveling during my usual posting time #my writing #the Token Human #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eiad #zero-g #animals #in spaaace #science fiction #short stories #zero-gravity hamster wheels

[jarofstyles]

my favorite trope of all time… the forgotten birthday🙏🏼 or H standing yn up because he forgot abt a date👁

See this one personally hurts me bc it’s a fear but I will do it for you soldiers 🫡

Check out our Patreon!

—-

She food was cold on the table.

Y/N was mortified. Embarrassed. Hurt. All of the emotions swimming in her chest as she looked at the meal she had ordered for Harry specifically. A 6 month anniversary wasn’t necessarily the biggest deal in the world but it had meant a lot to her. And to Harry too, supposedly. He had nuzzled her in bed just a few weeks prior talking about how the time had flown by, how they’d been dating for nearly 6 months and how smitten he was with her. How he wanted to do something.

So Y/N had suggested and planned their date. Harry had been all for it, smile wide when she had told him she had managed to make the reservations for the new place they’d been driving past and had been booked up for weeks. It had seemed so perfect.

But now she was sat alone at a table for two, Harry’s meal cold and untouched as her own had barely been eaten. The waitress had been exceptionally sweet, though she could see pity in her eyes as she brought her another round of bread and asked if she was alright. Y/N supposed she had seen a few stand ups in her times as a server but not after how animatedly Y/N had shown up and explained her boyfriend would be a bit late and it was their anniversary.

2 hours of waiting she had admitted defeat. Unanswered texts and calls littered Harry’s phone but she could see they were delivered. She switched to instagram as she waited for the check and to go boxes when her heart sank.

Clicking on the story of their mutual friend, there in a video of the pub just a few minutes from his flat was Harry. Drinking a pint, laughing, having a good time in the pan around the scene as their friend showed off their fun evening out. It wasn’t their fault, of course. They didn’t know that this broke her into pieces, but hearing his laugh above the pub chatter had her heart sinking and not lightening as it usually did.

He was out having a ball, forgotten about their night and ignoring, seemingly, his girlfriend as she stupidly waited in a fancy restaurant in a dress and expensive lingerie she had bought as well. The dinner wasn’t cheap, none of it was.

The waitress gave her a soft smile as she returned, placing her hand on her shoulder as she saw the tears glittering in her waterline. “I’m sorry your night didn’t go as planned. I know it won’t make up for it but I snuck a dessert for you in there on me.” She gave a gentle squeeze before returning her card to her.

It was when Y/N had already arrived home that she got a call back from Harry.

“Hello?” She timidly answered, feet aching as she kicked off her heels.

“Babe! I saw you called me, what’s up? M’sorry, was wearing the thick jeans and I didn’t feel it buzz.” He apologized. Though when it was silent for a moment he stopped his chuckle and moved into the hallway. She could hear the noises get fainter of the pub chatter. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

A sniffle broke through the line and it made him panic. Harry hated when Y/N cried. “Oi, baby, what’s the matter? What’s goin’ on?” He tried again.

“Do you know what day it is today, Harry?” She whispered, upset beyond belief. He was tipsy and he didn’t even seem to know what was wrong. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

“Erm… it’s Friday? What’s tha’ got to do with anything?” He was confused, leaning against the wall of the hallway as he tried to gather his bearings.

“The date, Harry. The date.” She snipped, anger starting to rise through her hurt. Of course she had been the one to plan it but he had been seemingly excited for it too. She should have known he forgot when she woke up to nothing to other than a morning text.

He froze over the line, exiting the call screen to look at his calendar before freezing.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck.

His throat tightened and his body went cold as he put pieces together. What the date was, why she was upset, and how late it was. Nearly midnight. He had fucked up.

“Oh- fuck. Baby- fuck me.” He whispered. “Baby- shit. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice was hoarse, all tipsiness seemingly leaving his body as the shock was enough to sober him up. “Oh my god… shit. The reservations-“ he swallowed thickly, slumping back against the wall as he ran a hand down his face.

“Yeah.” Her voice was small. “I waited for 2 and a half hours for you.”

He had fucked up immensely.

“Angel… Christ, I can’t even….” He felt sick. Disappointing her, making her upset was something he never ever wanted to do. Especially when she had been so excited. He had been too, of course, he loved milestones with her. But this one seemed important. Half a year. Both of them together for that long?

And he had just majorly fucked up. If his stomach hurt already for just this information, he couldn’t imagine how anxious she had been waiting for him and not getting any texts or calls back. He was at a fucking pub with their mates, clueless.

“And I was in the Restaurant with all these people looking at me with pity, and your food sat cold because I ordered for you…” she sniffled, piercing his heart. His thoughtful fucking girl. “N’I go on instagram and see Hannah’s post and see you just laughing at the pub. And….” That broke the tears into a sob, making his body feel physically sick. He’d been the one to upset her this time.

“Oh no… baby, fuck. I’m so sorry. I can’t make excuses… I can’t bare to hear you cry like that. M’coming to see you, okay? I’ll leave-“

“No.” She sobbed out. “Don’t wanna see you right now. I want to be alone like I was all night anyways. You can’t make me feel better right now.” She managed out between cries. That hurt worse than anything else to him. Harry could always make it better for her. He hadn’t been the cause of such upset before and it was killing him. An oversight of epic proportions on the worst possible day to do so. It wasn’t a normal date, it was a huge one.

“Y/N…” he rasped. “I’m sorry. I can’t stop saying it. I want to make it better but if you don’t want me there I won’t come. I feel sick. I never meant to do this. I thought it was in two days… it doesn’t make it any better but my days are messed up. Im two days behind in my mind but I should have known better. I had plans for us too…” the flower delivery was scheduled for Sunday, too. Shit. “The flowers! They’ll be there on Sunday. I promise im not lying. It doesn’t make it any better but I’d never do it on purpose.”

That was something she knew, too. Harry wasn’t an asshole in general but he got in his head and caught up a lot and she had to pay the consequences. Especially today.

“Okay.” Her tired, croaky voice sounded out. “I want to go to bed. I don’t… please don’t come over, Harry.” Harry. Not H. She was really upset.

“I won’t. I’ll wait in the morning for you to text me, baby angel. Okay? I swear… I am so sorry. I love you so much. I’ll be waiting for your text. “

#angst #angst blurb #harry angst #harry styles angst #writing #jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #Harry styles writing #Harry writing #Harry blurb #Harry fanfic #Harry smut #Harry fluff

[happilyhertale]

Long Lost Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader, Part 7b

Summary: You are the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra. When the invitation to Aegon and Helaena's wedding came, your entire family rushes from Dragonstone to King's Landing to take part in the festivities. You haven't seen your family in King's Landing for 6 years so you are very excited...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Author’s note: Hello you! (:

This is my first fic so please be nice (: I thought I'd just try a little self-considered story. I hope u like it.

The events are not entirely similar from the series.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

We are still on Driftmark... Last part of the review! In the next part we will continue with the actual story (:

Word count: 2.7k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7a, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You stand behind Aemond and hold his arm. You don't understand why your brothers and half-sisters are so angry.

 "Vhagar is our mother's dragon!", when it suddenly dawns on you.

Aemond replies coldly, "Your mother is dead.", you hiss his name warningly behind him. He looks at you briefly over his shoulder.

But then he turns his attention back to the front, to the others, "Vhagar now has a new rider"

"It was my right to claim her!" cries Rhaena.

"Then you should have claimed her!", Aemond shouts back.

You come out from behind Aemond's back, "Rhaena, please listen to me, it was not his intention to claim her! We found her by accident", you try to de-escalate the argument.

"You don't find a dragon like Vhagar by accident“, she gives you a nasty look, "In case you haven't noticed, she's pretty big," Rhaena replies to you, visibly upset.

"Don't you dare talk to her like that!!", Aemond takes a step forward and threatens her.

"Oooh Aemond defends his secret love," Rhaena mocks him. Your hand seeks his hand.

Aemond looks at her hatefully, "Maybe your cousins will find a pig for you to ride. It would suit you" You stand there startled. Helplessly you look for Jace's gaze, but he seems just as angry as your half-sisters. As Rhaena suddenly attacks Aemond. Aemond detaches from your hand and just grabs her and pushes her to the ground. He notices too late that Baela is also coming at him and gives him a slap. He goes to the ground.

You shout a "No!", and push Baela away. "Stop it!".

When suddenly Aemond is beside you again and shouts, "Attack me or Y/N again and I'll feed you to my dragon!" You look at Aemond, startled, grab his arm and whisper, "No, Aemond" But then Aemond is already pushing you aside, Jace was on his way to attack Aemond this time. He punches Aemond right in the face, "No! Jace!", you scream. Aemond continues to fend off punches from Jace and kicks him in the upper body, Jace goes down. Suddenly you hear your little Luke screaming shrilly and you see him trying to attack Aemond. This time it was Aemond who punches him right in the face.

"Aemond! Don't!", that's all you were able to do. Luke lies on the ground screaming. As Jace gets up and pushes Aemond over. He's on the floor and everyone is now going at him. Finally managing to get up, you walk over and pull Baela away from him, who was standing closest to you. She screams, but you just push her away. You try to get to Jace, but Aemond kicks him away again. As Luke goes for Aemond, Aemond just grabs him firmly by the neck. He holds him tight, stands up and picks up a big rock with his other hand. When you see this, you are startled.

"You will die in the flames, just as your father did," Aemond replies to his attackers. "Aemond!" you gasp.

"Bastards.", comes hatefully from his lips. You have had enough, quickly you walk towards him. You free Luke from his hands and protectively press the crying Luke behind your back.

Aemond looks at you, breathing heavily, he lowers the stone. As Luke whispers a soft "But my father is still alive". Aemond looks incredulous, "He doesn't know, does he? Lord Strong?"

You scowl at Aemond, "Aemond, enough!" you hiss back at him. When you hear a blade being drawn, you want to turn around in fright, but Aemond grabs you out of reflex and pushes you aside. Under no circumstances does he want you between him and a blade. Again you are lying on the ground and then everything happens too quickly.

Jace goes for Aemond with his dagger, you whimper a "No!". Jace tries to hit Aemond with the blade but Aemond dodges each time until he hits him in the head with the stone and Jace goes down. Aemond stands over him and lifts the stone, "Don't do it, Aemond!" you shout.

As Aemond looks over at you, you shake your head ernergically, he lowers the stone. When he looks back at Jace, Jace throws a handful of sand in his face, Aemond groans and grabs his face. In the meantime Luke crawls to the dagger lying on the floor, he takes it, he stands up and the next moment he swings the blade in Aemond's direction.

A slash.

A scream of pain.

You are stunned. "No! No! No!" you scream, and scramble towards Aemond.

"What have you done???" you scream at Luke.

Aemond is on the ground, his hand pressed over his eye. There is blood everywhere and he is screaming continuously in pain. You've never heard screams like this before. You are afraid.  "Aemond! Aemond!", you kneel by his side. "Please, let me see! Aemond! Please!"

Aemond writhes on the ground. His hand, his whole forearm is covered in blood. "Y/N... My eye! It hurts so much!". You try to help him, but you don't know how. When the King's Guard finally arrives, they are confronted with a terrible picture. In one corner there are four children, visibly frightened, and in the other corner the young prince is lying on the ground, blood everywhere, and the young princess is kneeling beside him. They send your brothers and your half-sisters away.

One of the King's Guard comes over to you and Aemond. He wants you to leave, but Aemond cries out in pain, "No! She shall stay with me!" out of reflex you take his other hand and hold it. He lets you stay by Aemond's side. He turns to Aemond, "My prince, My prince. Let me see" Aemond slowly takes his hand away, still whimpering. A "Gods be good," slips out of his mouth. He takes Aemond in his arms and carries him into the hall, you holding his hand the whole time. 

Aemond sits in a chair in the hall, the maester about to finish his work on Aemond's face. A huge scar adorns the left half of his face. You cry softly to yourself, stroking his hand. He smiles slightly at you from time to time, but it doesn't last long, again and again he contorts his face in pain. From time to time various members of the King's Guard tried to pull you away from him, but each time you held him tighter and Aemond hissed at them to leave you alone.

From a distance you see your grandfather, Aemond's father, King Viserys, questioning the King's Guard. He is furious. Alicent stands by your side, looking with concern at Aemond. When she is told that Aemond's eye is lost, she goes over to Aegon, slapping him for not being there to protect his brother. You cry even more as you realise what this news means. You are so very sorry for Aemond. He doesn't deserve that. 

When suddenly Rhaenys and Corlys enter the hall and rush to Rhaena and Baela. Now your parents also follow into the hall. Your mother goes straight over to your brothers. Your father remains standing in the doorway to survey the whole situation. He immediately sees you sitting next to Aemond. He continues to keep an eye on you. Your mother kneels down in front of Luke and looks at his injuries. She asks him what happened. When suddenly a big commotion breaks out and Aemond and the other children accuse each other of having been attacked. You can't follow the accusations. You just sit by Aemon's side and hold his hand. Your gaze is fixed on his hand, you stroke it gently. 

Meanwhile, your grandfather tries several times to finally bring peace. When he succeeds, he comes over to you, "Aemond, I want to hear the truth, what happened?". When Alicent interferes and a discussion breaks out again. This time between her and your mother. Your mother then accuses Aemond of calling your brothers bastards. You swallow hard and squeeze his hand tightly. Aemond then strokes your hand with his thumb. Your mother demands that Aemond be questioned as to how he knows such accusations. Your grandfather turns to you, "Y/N. My dear. What happened? I know you love your brothers and that you have at least similar sympathies for Aemond. So tell me the truth, did Aemond call your brothers bastards?"

You are startled, you hate that Aemond called your brothers bastards. You haven't felt the urge often, but at that moment you would have loved to slap him.

But you would never betray Aemond to his father, the king. So you stammer around, "I ... it all happened so fast... I ... there was suddenly blood everywhere ...". He strokes your cheek, "Please Y/N, try to remember"

You look up at your grandfather with your eyes red from crying. When suddenly the voice of your father is heard, still standing in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you, "Brother, please leave her alone. She just had to watch someone lose his eye" Your grandfather nods briefly in Daemon's direction and then turns to Aemond, "Then you will tell me, boy, where did you hear such lies?"

Silence follows... King Viserys again calls on him to answer his question. You look at Amond's face, he hesitates, then looks over at Alicent. You take a startled breath. As Aemond answers that it was Aegon. Your grandfather turns away, Aemond looks at you briefly, he strokes your hand. Your grandfather approaches Aegon and tries to find out where he heard such lies, until at some point Aegon simply says that it is obvious. Your grandfather gets angry. And again, you don't listen to the voices around you. You just look at Aemond's hand and caress it. You just hold on to his hand and as you look at him, he smiles at you. You try to smile, but your tears don't really make you smile. With his other hand he caresses your face as if you were the one who needed to be comforted. But suddenly you return to reality as you witness from a distance Alicent trying to convince your grandfather that Aemond must be avenged. You are afraid that your grandfather will agree. But he doesn't. But then Alicent orders Ser Criston to take your brother's eye.

In shock, you look to Ser Criston. When he refuses, you breathe a sigh of relief. When your grandfather tells Alicent that the matter is settled, she does not accept. Alicent suddenly takes your grandfather's dagger so she can get the eye herself.

Panic breaks out and you scream out as one of the King's Guard tries to pull you brutally away from Aemond and tells you to go to the right side. He doesn't listen to Aemond's order to let go of you as you scream a shrill "Daddy!!!".

Out of nowhere, your father stands at your side. He grabs the knight firmly by his arm and pulls him away from you. As the knight takes a step backwards, Daemon continues to forcefully push him backwards, "Touch my daughter again and you won't live to see the next moment," the knight doesn't reply and simply takes a few steps backwards. You continue to hold tightly to Aemon's hand, who by now is holding your arm.

But Daemon takes you in his arms without a word. As your father carries you away, you look at Aemond whimpering desperately, he looks after you with the same look. As you take your eyes off Aemond and look in the direction you are being carried, you see your mother and Alicent standing in front of each other. Fearfully, you bury your face in your father's neck. Alicent holds a blade in her hand and threatens your mother directly with it. Daemon stands behind your mother, he sets you down and pushes you behind his broad back. You can't see much from there, but you can see Alicent and your mother suddenly move away from each other and you are pushed backwards. Suddenly you see blood dripping on the floor. When you realise that it is coming from your mother's arm, a "Mother!" escapes your lips.

Panic-stricken, you push your way to your mother and look at her in fright. You touch her arm carefully. She is breathing heavily and only after a while does she notice you, she looks at you and then stands protectively in front of you. Alicent stands before you. She looks shocked and is breathing heavily.

When suddenly Aemond appears next to her. You look at each other for a moment. How you would like to just leave the hall with him now.

He looks at his mother, "Don't grieve me mother," she looks down at him, "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... but I gained a dragon.". She looks at him incredulously as he leans against her. Your parents lead you and your siblings out of the hall. 

You are sitting in your mother's chamber as her arm is being stitched. You have seen enough wounds for your taste today.

You are sitting next to her when your father comes in. You briefly squeeze your mother's healthy arm and then rush to your father. He holds you tightly and strokes your back. Your parents look at each other.

"We will leave immediately" Daemon nods as he takes note of the news, "I will follow as soon as possible to King's Landing". You don't want to be separated from your father again, you've only just seen him again and everything seems so bad right now, you don't want to endure any more sad things. Your mother sighs, "We're not going back to King's Landing" You turn around startled, a "What?" escapes you. Your father holds you tightly. Your mother's gaze wanders back and forth between you and your father. "We're going to Dragonstone" You stare at her, "No.... But my things... I can't do this... What about Aemond...? No, I have to see Aemond!" Your father caresses you to calm you down, "Daddy! I can't! I have to see Aemond! I have to talk to him!", again you start crying and it breaks his heart.

"My darling, you can't see him now. It's too dangerous, I need to know you're safe! And right now I only know one place where I know you are safe," your mother tries to explain herself.

You sob, "I can't just leave without saying goodbye to Aemond!" You look at your father, "She's right," he whispers to you. You just cry. He takes your face in his rough hands, "My little dragon. Please don't cry..." you sob, "... your mother is right. It is too dangerous. We don't know what Alicent would do or who she would hurt. We need to keep you and your brothers safe"

You shake your head slightly, "Alicent would never hurt me..." Daemon just hugs you tightly again and you cry bitterly into his body.

The next thing you know, you are standing in the courtyard waiting for the carriage to take you to the ship. You stand there with your brothers. You look at each other, not really knowing what is going to happen now. Little Luke takes your hand and you smile at him, "Y/N.... I'm sorry... I didn't mean for something like this... for Aemond to lose his eye and for us not to go home now"

You smile at him, with tears in your eyes, "I know Luke...". That's all you can say. You keep trying to see Aemond somewhere amongst all the people walking around. But each time you are disappointed, he is nowhere to be seen. At some point it seems silly to you to look for him. He will be lying in his bed now... After all, he is injured and needs to get better....

What you don't know is that Aemond got up from his bed in great pain and went over to the window when he heard people gathering in the courtyard. He looks at you and it almost pains him more to see you standing in the courtyard so afraid than the fresh scar on his face. He notices that you are looking around searchingly. He wants to believe that you are looking for him. It eases his pain a little.

His Queen is looking for him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

@leahjean  @afro-hispwriter  @jeyramarie  @powellssaturn @notabotiswear @hoshi-miharu-blog @random-human02 @m00n5t0n3 @sporadicshepherdzinebear @drewsgfduh @stargaryenx @dark-night-sky-99 @notabotiswear @ccosmic-illusion @darylandbethfanforever9 @grungegrrrl @spn-obession @carlottalhn @elle4404 @girl-with-an-orange-cat @genshinimpactislife @imjustboredso @tragicbucky @dollfaceyourfear @magnificantmermaid @mllemarianne @stargaryenx

#aemond x y/n #daemon targeryen x reader #ewan mitchell #hotd #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon aemond #aemond drabble #aemond one eye #aemond x lucerys #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #matt smith #the rogue prince

[cowgurrrl]

Hey gorgeous girl!!! I hope you’re having a good day! I wanted to request maybe a preoutbreak!joel and reader where reader has a bad day at work/college? Just how Joel would comfort when he sees reader all upset and stressed out🥹 if it doesn’t spark any interest, feel free to ignore this!!! I love you & your writing 🫶🏼💐✨💋💗

Thank you for your sweet words and your love!! I love this idea!! Pre-Outbreak Joel makes my Texas heart soar 🤠

Snowqueen of Texas

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Joel hears about your day through the grapevine and decides to try to make you feel better

Warnings: None! Just Joel being a softy (gif by @loregifs)

The day had started rough. You got stuck in traffic on your way into work and cut someone off so badly they laid on their horn for a solid ten seconds. It didn’t matter because you ended up being twenty minutes late anyways. By the time you had clocked in, you were already in the weeds and barely had a chance to breathe before rushing around the restaurant like a crazy person. Every table that got up and cleaned got sat again almost immediately. People weren’t tipping as well as they usually did, but they made up for it by being rude as fuck. Your feet hurt from running back and forth all day, and to top it all off, you spilled hot sauce on your new white shirt.

So, when the hostess came to the back and told you someone was there for you during the two seconds you had to sit down, you were more than a little frustrated. You sulked up to the front, where you found Joel talking to your manager with a smile on his face. He ended all his sentences with “yes ma’am,” “no ma’am,” and “thank you, ma’am,” like the good southern boy his mama raised him to be. You smile as you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his middle. He kisses your forehead and hugs you back, not missing a beat in his conversation.

“Is it okay if I take my break, Samantha?” You ask your manager. Normally, she would make you roll silverware for a while before she let you go on break, but Joel seems to have buttered her up because she agrees. As she goes back upstairs, he holds up a plastic bag from your favorite Mexican restaurant. “Oh, my god, I love you.” You gasp as you take the bag from him and walk to his truck.

Joel tells you about the job he’s working right now and Sarah’s school project while you eat the tacos he brought you. The air conditioning blasts cold air to beat the summer heat, and an old country song is playing on the radio. You’re really trying to listen to his story, but with the food and the comfortable passenger seat, you’re more focused on how much better you feel. “By the way, Tommy ratted you out for cutting him off this morning.” He says, and you laugh.

“Tell Thomas he can’t take up the entirety of I-35 just because he thinks he’s the only one late to work.”

“Thomas? We’re using government names now?”

“Snitches get stitches.”

“Fair,” he says as you roll the empty tinfoil wrapper into a ball and throw it back in the plastic bag. “Feelin’ better?” He asks as he puts his hand on your thigh, his warm hand squeezing you.

“How did you know I was having a bad morning?” You ask and catch his nervous habit as he grinds his teeth.

“Sarah might’ve told me she saw you leave the house from the bus stop. Said you were in a huge rush, and I figured you slept through your alarms.”

“Are all the Millers spying on me?”

“Nobody is spying on you. She told me because she knew I would be nearby today and said I should bring my beautiful girlfriend lunch.” He says as he leans over and kisses you.

“Smart girl,” you whisper against his lips, resting a hand on his scruffy jaw. His hand snakes through your hair as he deepens the kiss. “You should always come to see me on my lunch break.”

“I reckon if I did that, we’d do a lot more than eat lunch.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Only if you want us to keep our jobs,” he says, and you groan dramatically. “You just have to make it through today, and then when you get home, we can have dinner and drink wine and yell at Tommy for being a snitch.”

“Fine,” You sigh. “But I need one more thing before I can go back to work.”

“Name your price, sweetheart.”

When you walk back into work full of tacos and love, you’re wearing Joel’s shirt to replace the one you spilled hot sauce on. The hostess raises her eyebrows mischievously at you, but you shake your head, smirking, as you clock back in. “He had an extra work shirt, and mine was dirty.” You say. She hums and walks away, giving you a look that tells you she doesn’t believe you. She can think whatever you want because the scent of Joel’s cologne on his shirt is going to be enough to get you through the rest of your day.

Thank God the Millers are nosy as hell.

🍓

🍓

🍓

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller requests #joel miller drabble #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess

[twinsunstars]

Thoughts on The Bad Batch Episode 6 - Infiltration - A Discussion Post

This week's two episodes really took us through another rollercoaster. Let's look back on all the details that got us excited!

(SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE EPISODES YET! all screencaps from cap-that.com! https://www.cap-that.com/starwars/the-bad-batch/306/)

Rex makes his return by delivering Senator Avi Singh and his droid GS-8 to Senator Riyo Chuchi on Pantora, who continues to recruit people for fighting against the Empire. I was surprised to see Senator Singh again; every episode that's happened in the series really had a good purpose for the story.

Howzer also appeared, and I'm so happy he's back!

One of the Clone X troopers had appeared, sneaking around and attempting to attack the senators. Rex and the others try to attack the trooper, and Howzer manages to stun him. The trooper ends up being another unidentified clone, and the boys take him into custody.

We arrive at the monastery on Teth, which had first appeared in the Clone Wars movie. Rex and the other clones have built themselves a base here, where they are safe and far away from the Empire.

Rex and Howzer go to see the CX trooper they took into custody, as they had the shocker removed from their teeth, learning from the scenario that happened last season. Rex tries to reason with the trooper, who refuses to talk.

Fireball had looked through the device that they found with the CX trooper, and Omega was shown on that device. Rex decides to contact Echo and Hunter, calling them here to talk to them about the situation. Everyone's after the poor girl, and none of the clones are able to catch a break.

The CX trooper that we've all got our eyes glued to appears once again on-screen, asking "Why have I been activated?" We finally get to hear this trooper talk, and his voice is very hidden by the helmet. He is given a mission to track down the CX trooper that went missing, and we go on to pay close attention to him throughout the episodes. When I tell you my heart was racing every time he appeared on screen, I was really trying to think hard and connect the dots. I'm a Tech believer, but with the new theories emerging on this trooper potentially being other clones as well, every theory is so intriguing.

While on the way to Rex's base, Omega copying Crosshair was the cutest thing ever. She went from copying Hunter in Season 1, copying Phee in Season 2, and now this in Season 3. (Hunter's definitely having flashbacks.) Girl's growing up too fast for me 😭

Can we just take a second and look at Wrecker's smile here? It was so heartwarming to see him smile like this while he was petting Batcher. He's so cute.

The crew arrives, and Howzer keeps his eyes locked on Crosshair. The little nod Rex and Omega shared was so adorable. Howzer speaks up to talk to Crosshair, who stays silent. He reminds him of Ryloth and what happened, and he has good reason to be upset.

Not gonna lie, I was expecting Rex to look at Batcher and be like when did y'all get a dog 🤨

Before leaving to go pick up Gregor (wherever he is), Echo gives Omega a new crossbow, replacing the Zygerrian crossbow she used to have before being taken to Tantiss. I still wonder what happened to that weapon, it was just completely lost. Omega loves her new gift and thanks Echo, and I can't wait to see her use it.

Rex and Howzer show Hunter and Crosshair the information they got so far from the device they obtained from the CX trooper they have, and Crosshair starts to open up about what he went through on Tantiss, talking about Hemlock's conditioning. Howzer continues to suspect anything Crosshair says, and Hunter gets protective for his brother. The boys decide to ask Omega about why they wanted her on Tantiss, and she says that it was so Nala Se could work for them.

I feel like I could tell that Omega does not want to talk about anything she went through on Tantiss and whatever she experienced. She looks so hurt at times ever since she became reunited with her family, and she wasn't even eating in this episode. She always keeps giving Batcher her food. Omega mentions "M-count", which Rex has heard of before, but doesn't know what it means. I wonder when they'll learn what it means and how they'll try to figure out why Omega is needed for this.

Meanwhile, the CX trooper sent from Tantiss had arrived on Teth and located the clones' base, and had snuck in without ANYONE noticing. Batcher's senses felt something was around, but she shrugged it off and continued eating. Not even Hunter's enhanced senses had felt something was around. I felt like maybe these troopers were designed to avoid those kinds of things, and maybe Hemlock learned about Hunter's abilities and attempted to avoid them.

Anyway, he looks around and spots Omega, immediately running out and contacting someone.

When Crosshair found out they have one of the CX troopers in custody, he goes with Rex, Howzer, and Hunter to see him. The second he lays eyes on the trooper, there is genuine fear in his eyes. What did he go through on Tantiss?

The CX trooper recognizes Crosshair and begins to talk, and knows the Empire is coming for them. Crosshair insists they leave, while the others keep wanting information, and Howzer gets more suspicious.

Right outside, the bombs CX-2 planted around the base are set off, triggering multiple explosions. He re-enters the base, firing shots, as everyone hurries to protect the base. The trooper manages to shoot the CX trooper they have in custody, making them unable to get further information. The fight continues until the base is wrecked, causing the CX trooper to be crushed under rubble, and the others get locked in the place they kept the trooper in custody after the rubble blocks their way out.

RIP to Fireball 😭

Wolffe finally makes his appearance! He continues to be a soldier of the Empire, but he definitely is no longer under the influence of the chip. The episode ends here, and I was screaming the entire time Wolffe appeared. Someone go summon the force ghost of Plo Koon so he can knock some sense into his son.

This episode was full of context, but there's still so much mystery behind everything. The next episode was full of even more action, and I had my eyes glued to the screen.

Episode 7 Discussion

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch omega #captain rex #captain howzer #the bad batch echo #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch tech #commander wolffe #sw tbb #tbb s3 #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch spoilers #avi singh #riyo chuchi

[celestiall0tus]

Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 12 - Pharoah

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Alix ran around the new Tutankhamun exhibit in the Louvre. Jalil followed her and explained each display. She took notes before he started in on his theories to the next. She made her way to Tutankhamun’s specter as their dad joined them.

            “How’s everything going, you two?” Alim asked.

            “Amazing. I’ll have the best project for History yet,” Alix beamed.

            “And you, Jalil?”

            “It’s unbelievable! You managed to get everything I need,” Jalil exclaimed.

            “Need for what?” Alim pressed.

            Alix rolled her eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

            “Indeed. I want to direct your attention to the scroll on this wall.”

            Alim and Alix followed Jalil as they approached an adjacent wall.

            “So, Dad, you know this, but for Alix, the one with the scepter is Tutankhamun the First. There, opposite, is Nefertiti, his princess. There are exactly one hundred mummies beside them. She died several years before him and the sun god, Ra, took her as his goddess.”

            “Get to the point,” Alix said.

            “I am. Tutankhamun wanted to bring his princess back to life by offering the sun god a new wife. The scene illustrates a ritual he devised. However, nobody has ever fully deciphered the hieroglyphics, but I have. It’s a magic chant that needs to be recited in order to complete the ritual. I’m sure of it. I just need the scepter and I can carry out the ritual.”

            “I mean, that’s cool and all, but it looks like you need a human sacrifice for the ritual. Aren’t we long past that?” Alix asked.

            Alim sighed. “Jalil, I love the interest you take in your study, but even if it were to work, I can’t allow you to do that.”

            “Yeah. And the human sacrifice thing again. Who would you even use for it? Did you even think of that?”

            “Indeed, I did. The lucky sacrifice I picked is none other than Chloe Bourgeois,” Jalil announced.

            Jalil pulled out a crudely drawn imitation of Chloe. Alix snickered while Alim scowled.

            “Alix, don’t laugh at that.”

            “I mean, it’s kinda funny,” Alix admitted.

            “No, it’s not, young lady,” Alim scolded.

            Alix pursed her lips as Alim stepped closer to Jalil.

            “As I’ve said, I admire your dedication and passion for history and the supernatural aspects of it, but I cannot allow this. Not only because I cannot stake my entire career and our livelihood on a potential legend, but I will not let you indulge in these murderous fantasies.”

            “Don’t you see it’s perfect? We could discover the secret to resurrection and keep Alix safe. No more anger, no more worries.”

            “How would this help her?”

            “Because Chloe is clearly a focal point for a lot of Alix’s anger and stress. We remove that and-.”

            “Absolutely not. Jalil, do you hear yourself? We should be helping Alix work through it to the point. Not eliminating the cause without knowing the reason why. Without getting rid of the roots, it will spread. If not Chloe, it’ll be someone or something else.”

            “But-!”

            “Enough! I won’t hear of this anymore. I want you to take the day off, Jalil. I need you to get your head on straight before you even consider coming back here.”

            Jalil opened his mouth but closed it and stormed off.

            “Dad, you’re not upset that we aren’t making progress on my… issues, are you?” Alix asked.

            “Alix, honey, no. You are young and going through a lot of change in your life while dealing with a past trauma. It is a challenge, but we’ll handle it at the pace that you’re comfortable with. That is what matters most.”

            “But what if we never find out? What if I don’t get better?”

            “Sometimes that happens. Which, we just need to learn to adapt, just as our ancestors did. We are still human and capable of so much. Even if you never find the source of your anger and trauma, you’ll learn to adapt and live around it. Sometimes it’s all we can do. Much like your mother.”

            “Was she hurt?”

            “Well, let’s just say she didn’t have the upbringing you and Jalil have. Far from actually. It made her very slow to trust and guarded. I’m still amazed I got through her walls, but I’m glad I did. I got to be with the most amazing, flawed woman and human I’ve ever known. On top of that, we had two equally amazing and flawed children, just like we are.”

            “Is that why you push me to make friends?”

            “It is another reason, yes. I know it’s cliché to say love saved us, but it really did. I wasn’t half the man I was before I met your mom. She made sure to toughen me up and in return, I softened her. With me, she was able to open herself up, even if it was just a little.”

            “Did Mom have trouble too?”

            “Oh, yes. And I’d get to hear all about it, but that was all part of the process. It’s a slow and painful one, but one that must be taken at your own pace.”

            “Excuse me, but are you the Director of the museum?” Nathalie asked.

            Alim and Alix turned to the entrance where Adrien stood with Nathalie and Gorilla. Alim stepped forward.

            “I am. May I help you?”

            “My boss’s son heard about this exhibit arriving and wanted to visit it to gather information for a school project. Is it open?” Nathalie explained.

            “It may not be open just yet, but I can allow this. After all, my own daughter has been doing the same. Uh, Alix?”

            Alix stepped up beside Alim. “Yeah?”

            “Would you assist him while Jalil is out for the day?”

            “Do I have to?”

            “No, but I would appreciate it.”

            Alix considered, approached Adrien, and gave him her notes. “Give these back to me or you will hurt.”

            “That’s not what I exactly had in mind,” Alim remarked.

            “Sorry, Dad, but I do have to get to roller derby.”

            Alim’s eyes widened. “I forgot about roller derby! It’s not a match today, is it?”

            “No, just practice.”

            “Thank goodness. Do you need a ride?”

            “Nah, I’m good. Thanks though.”

            “Stay safe, Alix. See you for lunch!”

            Alix waved goodbye and headed for the museum exit. She stopped when a tall, muscular man with roseish black skin, blue glowing eyes, and decked out in gold Egyptian jewelry, shendyt, and mask. She eyed Jalil’s scarab necklace in the collection of jewelry.

            “Jalil?” Alix asked.

            “Jalil is gone. I’m the Pharoah!”

            Alix grimaced and ran. She headed back to the Tutankhamun exhibit. She made it down the steps when Pharoah blocked her path. She skidded to a stop and scrambled back.

            “You’re fast, Alix, but not fast enough.”

            “Enough, Jalil! Cut the fucking crap!” Alix roared.

            “Alix?” Alim called.

            Pharoah turned where Alim’s voice came from. Alix took the opportunity and ran to hide. She transformed into Bloody Bug and ran back to the exhibit. She spotted Pharoah approaching Alim while Adrien, Nathalie, and Gorilla made their escape. She chunked her yo-yo in, and it wrapped around Alim. She pulled him out of Pharoah’s path.

            “Go! I’ll keep him busy!” Bloody Bug yelled.

            Alim hesitated, then ran.

            Bloody Bug turned as Pharoah closed the gap. Her eyes widened to see his mask had shifted to a lion’s head. He landed a blow on her side and sent her into the wall. The impact created a crater with her plastered to the bottom of it. She took a sharp breath as she felt the pain through her suit. He reached in, grabbed her face, and lifted her up.

            “Fucking bastard! That hurt!” Bloody Bug roared.

            “Then let’s make this easy for both of us. Give me your earrings.”

            “Over my dead body! Lucky Charm!”

            Ladybugs swirled and created an unassuming box. Pharoah laughed and picked it up.

            “Is this the best you can do, little bug?”

            Bloody Bug snarled and swung her legs up. She hit the corner of the box and it exploded. Pharoah yelled as she was propelled back. She rolled and staggered to her feet. She headed out of the museum as she heard his furious screams. She got as much distance between her and Louvre as possible. She slipped into an alleyway and de-transformed. She leaned against a wall and groaned.

            “That hurt.”

            “This is bad. We should go see Master,” Tikki said.

            “My thoughts too, Tikki. I think we should use elation. What do you think?”

            “Maybe call Bomb Bee back too?”

            Alix nodded. She stuck Tikki in her cap and headed for Wang Fu’s massage parlor. She headed in and found him finishing with a patient.

            “Ah, my next client. I’ll see you next week,” Wang Fu said to the patient.

            Alix slipped past the patient and shut the door. “I’m going to need help again.”

            “Twice in a row? It’s not that one girl again, is it?”

            “I’d rather that. No, my brother was akumatized into this demigod thing. He had a normal mask, then it was a lions, and then I was seismic punched into a wall with my own impact crater. Still feel the sting of it.”

            “Not to mention she blew up the exhibit and scepter that Jalil wanted to use to perform an ancient sacrificial ritual. So, he’s going to be coming right for her,” Tikki added.

            Wang Fu’s eyes widened. “That’s… concerning to say the least. Alright, one moment.”

            Alix took a seat while Wang Fu retrieved the Miraculous Box. She lifted her shirt to check for bruising, but didn’t’ see anything. She had expected to see a massive black bruise of Pharoah’s fist in her side.

            “Don’t worry. So long as you have me on, you won’t sustain any injuries, though you’ll feel the pain still,” Tikki reassured.

            “Fucking lovely,” Alix groaned.

            “Alright, here we are. Make your choices,” Wang Fu said.

            “How many am I allowed?” Alix asked.

            Wang Fu considered. “I’ll lend you three this time. Just as before, they are to be returned immediately after.”

            “Well, I know I want elation and action, but what would you suggest for a third?”

            Wang Fu considered, then took off the turtle shell bracelet he wore. “This belongs to the kwami of protection. I think you can guess what it does.”

            Alix snorted. “I don’t know. It might take a lot of guesses. Oh, you have anything I could give Tikki to recharge?”

            Wang Fu nodded. He left and returned shortly after with a plate of store-bought cookies. Tikki munched on a few before she flew up.

            “All good.”

            “Good. Saddle up, it’s going to be a long run,” Alix said.

            “We aren’t transforming?”

            “You said it yourself. He’s coming for Bloody Bug. It’d take longer, but we’d keep the others safe until we get the jewels to them. Now, in the cap.”

            Tikki giggled and hid under Alix’s cap. Alix messaged Marinette, asking where she and Alya were. She waited a minute when Marinette said she and Alya were at Places des Vosages. She put her phone away and headed to the location. She spotted them with Nino, sitting on the fountain. She slipped into an alleyway, transformed, and lassoed the three of them. She pulled them into the alley with her.

            “Woah! Bloody Bug? What’s up, dude?” Nino asked.

            “No time. I need help. I decided to pick a fight with a god and pissed them off. You three are going to help.”

            Alya squealed and jumped forward. Bloody Bug handed Alya the bee comb. Alya bounced, put the comb in her hair, and transformed into Bomb Bee.

            Nino’s jaw dropped as he pointed at Bomb Bee.

            “Surprised? You should be.”

            Bloody Bug snapped her fingers, getting Nino’s attention. She held up the panja bracelet for Marinette and the shell bracelet for Nino. “You two have the same deal as Alya. You get these for one time, help me, and give them back. Marinette, prove yourself strong and not too soft-hearted by accepting elation. Nino, you’re just here, so congratulations.”

            Marinette put on the panja bracelet while Nino put on the shell bracelet. Orbs shot out and circled them before they morphed into a magenta tiger kwami and a green turtle kwami.

            “Alright, make this snappy you two. We have a god hunting me,” Bloody Bug urged.

            “Oh my. Very well. I am Wayzz, kwami of protection. Pleasure to meet you, young man.

            “And I’m Roarr! Kwami of elation at your service, girlie!”

            “Tell them what they can do and how to transform,” Bloody Bug interjected.

            “Right. You can generate a shield saying ‘Shelter.’ To transform, say, ‘Wayzz, shell on.’ To de-transform, say, ‘Wayzz, shell off,’” Wayzz explained.

            “And for me, when you say ‘Clout,’ you can deliver a devastating sucker punch! Oh, and “Roarr, stripes on,’ to transform and ‘Roarr, stripes off,’ to de-transform,” Roarr yelled.

            “Be careful with these powers. One per transformation and then you have five minutes before you turn back. Now, suit up,” Bloody Bug ordered.

            “Wayzz, shell on!”

            “Roarr, stripes on!”

~~

            “Sekhmet, give me your strength!” Pharoah demanded.

            Chat Noir ran in as Pharoah’s mask shifted to a lion. Pharoah clapped his hands together that sent a shockwave that repelled Chat Noir. Chat Noir scrambled to his feet as Pharoah grabbed his face.

            “Where is that wretch, Bloody Bug?”

            “Couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”

            “You’ll soon change that tune when I-,” Pharoah started.

            “Hey, ugly!” Bloody Bug yelled.

            Pharoah turned to see Bloody Bug standing atop a nearby building. He laughed and dropped Chat Noir. He stepped forward when Bloody Bug jumped down and approached him.

            “Bug, what are you doing?” Chat Noir asked.

            “Oh, you know. The same thing as before.”

            Chat Noir raised a brow as Bloody Bug didn’t move. He stepped forward to intervene, but she held up a hand and counted down from five. He tilted his head when she got to one and used her Lucky Charm that created a simple book.

            “A book? That’s just as useless as your bomb,” Pharoah mocked.

            “See, that’s where you’re wrong. The book is a trident true that’s never failed me before.”

            “We’ll see about that.”

            Pharoah reached for Bloody Bug, but she jumped back. She hurled the book at his head that staggered him. Chat Noir jumped in and knocked Pharoah off his feet temporarily. Pharoah got back to his feet as a massive spinning top slammed into him. Bomb Bee and a cerise tiger heroine stood atop the spinning toy.

            Chat Noir’s jaw dropped, and eyes widened seeing the tiger girl. He was captivated by her simple, yet beautiful tiger-themed suit that was cerise, the perfect blend of red and pink, of femininity and aggression, accented elegantly with bronze stripes. Her deep magenta hair was pulled back into a pair of high pigtails that whipped wildly in the wind. All that paled in comparison to her savage, orange tiger eyes that shone with a wild delight.

            “Cowabunga, my dudes!”

            Chat Noir snapped out of his trace as a guy in a turtle themed superhero suit shield surfed past him, pulled along by Bomb Bee. He tilted his head at the nagging familiarity of the turtle hero’s voice.

            “Curse you, Bloody Bug! Too cowardly to face me alone?” Pharoah roared.

            “Aww, is the cowardly lion too scared to face us?” Bomb Bee mocked.

            “Excuse me?”

            “C’mon, meow meow. Let’s see how those tiny claws compare to a real wildcat.”

            Bomb Bee gestured to the tiger hero, who stood ready to fight. Pharoah shook his head and went for Bloody Bug, but the turtle hero cut him off as Pharoah’s attack bounced off the turtle shield.

            “I don’t think so, my dude. You want Bloody Bug, you’ll need to defeat me. Before you defeat me, you’ll need to beat them.”

            Pharoah roared and reared his arm back for another attack.

            “Shelter!”

            A dome-like turtle shield covered the turtle hero, Bloody Bug, and Chat Noir. Pharoah pounded on the barrier, but it wouldn’t relent.

            “Anyway, will he does that, name’s Carapace, dude Noir.”

            “You… seem familiar. Have we met?”

            “Can’t say we have. If we have, hit me up. I wouldn’t mind this hero gig again.”

            Chat Noir hummed as he looked back at the tiger hero. Pharoah finally turned away from them back to Bomb Bee and the tiger.

            “Fine. I’ll squish you two first.”

            “Let’s test the strength of your claws, kitten. Clout!” the tiger exclaimed.

            Chat Noir watched as the tiger and Pharoah’s fists connected that sent shockwaves out that ripped apart the street. They stood even for a brief second before the tiger pushed back against Pharoah. He struggled to fight against her when Bomb Bee snuck around and used Venom to paralyze him.

            Carapace dropped the shield, allowing Bloody Bug to take the necklace and break it. The Akuma flew up from the broken pendant. She caught and purified it, then grabbed her book and threw it up.

            “Miraculous!”

            The book burst into a swarm of ladybugs that repaired the damage done while Pharoah reverted to Jalil.

            “What happened? Where am I?” Jalil asked.

            “You were akumatized. I had destroyed the Tutankhamun exhibit and painted a target on myself. Now, any reason you went into that exhibit?” Bloody Bug asked.

            “I… wanted to used Tutankhamun’s scepter to perform a ritual. I hoped to prove one of my theories true, but also protect my little sister.”

            “Little sister?” the tiger asked.

            “Yeah. She had a foul run-in with that awful Chloe Bourgeois and was nearly consumed by her rage. It sent her spiraling and I just… I wanted to keep her from that happening. She was so scared of it and I hated seeing her so broken down. I felt like I couldn’t do anything when I should be able to. I’m her older brother, and I can’t do anything to help her. What good am I to her?”

            Bomb Bee started towards Jalil when Bloody Bug knelt.

            “Your sister sounds like a hard case to crack, which I can relate to. It’s not easy going through life with those challenges. She’s going to have her highs and lows as we all do, but the biggest thing you can do is just be there for her. As long as you do that, you’re doing great.”

            Jalil’s eyes widened as Bloody Bug saw a flash of recognition. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “Thank you! Thank you so much! I promise I’ll be there, always!”

            Bloody Bug chuckled nervously. She patted Jalil’s head, then pushed him away as her earrings chirped.

            “Bug, you’re about to change back,” Chat Noir said.

            “Fuck. Cat, get this man back to his home. Carapace, Bomb Bee, and Lady Tigress, move it.”

            Chat Noir watched the four of them all head in different directions. He watched the tiger, Lady Tigress, vanish before he scooped up Jalil.

            “Where am I taking you?” Chat Noir asked.

            “Uh, the Louvre.”

            “Right-o! I’ll have you there faster than you can say ‘meow.’”

~~

            Alix returned home after she gave the miraculous jewels back to Wang Fu. She managed to swing by roller derby, but she had missed practice. Her coach would have laid into her, but she explained Jalil was akumatized and she didn’t want to put the team at risk, which shut her coach up. She had checked her phone periodically on her way home to see Chat Noir had eagerly messaged her, asking about Lady Tigress. She had put her phone on silent as she ignored him, not wanting to indulge his curosity.

            Alix headed for the stairs when Alim called to her. She turned as he grabbed her shoulders and looked her over.

            “Are you ok? Are you hurt? Any injuries, bruises, or anything?” Alim asked.

            “I’m fine. It was just practice, Dad. We don’t actually hurt each other until match time.”

            “You’re talking about… derby? No, Alix, not that. I’m talking about your fight with Pharoah. You’re not hurt, are you? I saw the impact and the overall destruction of the exhibit, but-.”

            “Wait, Dad, you aren’t saying I’m Bloody Bug, are you?”

            “Alix, you can’t fool me. Well, maybe. I didn’t recognize you immediately. It was like I saw you, but it wasn’t you. It was… such a strange feeling not being able to recognize you from your face. As your father, I should, but I couldn’t. I likely wouldn’t have until you spoke. I didn’t place the voice immediately, but I know your tone and speech patterns. They’re just like your mother’s.”

            “Yeah, you can’t hide the truth from us, Alix!” Jalil yelled.

            Alix glanced over as Jalil ran down the stairs and joined the conversation.

            “I heard it too. It was harder for me to place, but I caught on once I recognized where I’ve heard such a tone before.”

            “Ah, fuck it. Fine, yes. I’m Bloody Bug,” Alix admitted.

            Jalil gasped. “We knew it! How do you do it? Did you gain them from some ancient ritual or a blessing from an old god?”

            Alix rolled her eyes and took off her cap. Jalil and Alim looked at Tikki, who was curled up taking a nap.

            “Interesting. Looks like Jalil’s theory of magic creatures might have some weight after all,” Alim mumbled.

            “Does that mean you’ll-,” Jalil started.

            “Absolutely not. Jalil, we have to keep this secret. That means no interrogating whatever this creature is or revealing any information regarding Alix’s superhero identity.”

            “So, wait, you’re not mad? And you’re not going to tell me to stop?”

            Alim sighed. “I would like to, but I know you. You listen when you want to but have developed a habit of disregarding the rules. Not all, but a lot of them. I know if I told you to stop, you’d just keep doing this. It’s how you are and how your mother was. You both are the types to learn by doing. It won’t matter how much I warn you otherwise, you’ll still do it to find out for yourself.”

            “That’s not always true. I listen to you sometimes.”

            “Yes, but would you listen to me on this?”

            “Probably not.”

            “Exactly. I don’t necessarily like it, but I can’t stop you. I want to keep you safe, but I can’t always. You’re in those stages where you are becoming your own person. As much as I’d rather shelter you, I know she wouldn’t want that. She’d have encouraged and supported you, so that’s what I’ll do. For you and for her.”

            Alix took a shaky breath. “I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do everything for her if you don’t want to.”

            Alim chuckled as a tear fell. “Well, maybe not, but it’s how I can honor her memory and wishes. To see you both happy and strong, just like she will have always wanted. For you both to live a life where you could be yourself. If being Bloody Bug is part of that for you, I will support it and you.”

            Tears fell from Alix’s eyes as she hugged Alim. “Thank you.”

            Tikki yawned and sat up. “What’s going on?”

            “Ah, she’s awake. Greetings, little creature. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alim said.

            Tikki blinked. “Uh, Alix?”

            “They know. My voice gave it away,” Alix said.

            “Oh. Yeah, the glamor isn’t the best in this age, but we’re also not designed for this kind of environment. So, yeah,” Tikki remarked.

            “What’s the glamor do?” Jalil asked.

            “It masks our holder’s identity. The appearance is the big one, except it can’t mask the immutable like body mass and height. It can also hide the voice, but not necessarily the tone and speech. Which, I guess that’s how you figured it out, Mr. Kubdel?” Tikki asked.

            “Yes, but please, call me Alim.”

            “Well met, Alim. My name’s Tikki.”

            “Likewise, Tikki. Are you by chance hungry? Is that something you can do?” Alim asked.

            “She can and probably is. I didn’t have any extra snacks packed, so, yeah.”

            “Not to worry. I’ll help you with that. What do you eat, Tikki?”

            “Sugar. Preferably sweets.”

            “Well, that would explain the boxes I’ve been seeing from that one bakery run by Tom and Sabine.”

            “Yeah, I’ve been treating Tikki a little more. Plus, I had received a free box of macaroons from Tom last week for when Cat and I kept Marinette safe from Evillustrator.”

            “Treating me or yourself?” Tikki grumbled.

            “Hey! I get hungry too and they do have the best pastries in all of Paris. So, I’m allowed to indulge too,” Alix remarked.

            Alim chuckled. “Alright, you two. I can swing by and get some pastries for Tikki. Let you use your money on other things, Alix. Just make sure you’re still careful out there, ok?”

            “Always. Thank you, Dad.”

            Alim smiled and hugged Alix. “Always, Alix. I love you.”

            “I love you too, Dad.”

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous au #au #alternate universe #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #mlb fanfic #bloody bug au #bloody bug #alix kubdel #alim kubdel #jalil kubdel #pharoah #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain cheng #lady tigress #bomb bee #carapace #chat noir #tikki #wang fu #canon rewrite

[futureslaps]

The Captive - Chapter 31

Chapter 30

It’s been a bit, sorry 😭 I was on vacation last week, and didn’t have much time to do writing. I’m back now, so I should get at least one chapter a week done!

Hope you’re ready for more family drama and feels!

Jake stood on the edge of a beach, watching the waves crashing onto shore. It was sunny, but a strong breeze was blowing through Awa’atlu, making the air a bit chillier than usual. But the avatar didn’t mind. Weather like this helped him clear his head.

He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him…

“Dad?”

Jake jumped slightly, turning to see Kiri approaching him. He grimaced slightly at her appearance. She looked just as exhausted as Jake felt. He knew she’d take everything hard.

Still, he managed to give a slight smile as his daughter walked up.

“Hey. Any news on Spider?”

Kiri shook her head.

“It’s still the same.”

After a moment, she spoke again.

“I wanted to talk with you…and mom about Spider. Now.”

“I was just about to meet with your mom myself. Why don’t you come with me?” Jake offered, and Kiri nodded.

As they began to make their way back to their Marui, Jake considered what he had to say. For years, he’d preferred not to get involved in the…complicated relationship between Spider and Neytiri. But now he no longer had a choice. Both Tonowari and Ronal were on his case, not to mention…the arrow.

Jake took a deep breath as the Marui came into sight. This wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have. For any of them.

Silently, Jake prayed that what Ronal had said to him earlier didn’t hold truth.

Neytiri was alone in the Marui, working on weaving some baskets. Compared to the obviously exhausted appearances of Jake and Kiri, she looked…normal.

“I see you.” Jake began the greeting, and Kiri followed.

“Kiri, Ma Jake, I see you.” Neytiri responded, quickly glancing up from her work.

Jake took a seat on the floor with Kiri also sitting nearby. Both of them were tense. It was Jake who spoke first.

“Neytiri…how are you feeling. After yesterday.”

“I am fine, Ma Jake.” Neytiri responded nonchalantly, her focus maintained on her work.

“I know that…things are tough.” Jake began. “I understand if…”

“I told you; I am fine.” Neytiri replied again, a bit more insistent. “I don’t see what…”

“You shot Spider.”

Kiri spoke for the first time, no longer able to hold back the words.

Neytiri stopped working. A silence fell over the Marui, and Jake drew in a breath. There was no avoiding this subject.

After a moment, Neytiri spoke.

“He shouldn’t have jumped between me and the Demon.” She said flatly, causing Kiri to bristle. At the same time, Jake’s hopes dropped.

“You knew he was there. You shouldn’t have shot the arrow with him so close!” Kiri replied, upset.

“He was with the Demon. He knew the risk.”

Kiri only grew angrier at her mother’s reply.

“Spider almost died!” Kiri exclaimed, clenching her fists. “He could lose his arm! Do you have any idea what that would do to him?!”

“He made his choice. He must bear the consequences.”

“The consequences? For what? Being with the only adult on his side when he was scared for his life?!”

“The consequences for betraying us for the Demon!” Neytiri snapped.

Everyone grew quiet. For a moment, none of them spoke or moved. It was Jake who broke the silence.

“Neytiri…he’s just a kid.”

“He is a child of the Demon! He has his father’s blood! He is loyal to his father! Last night just proves it once more!”

Jake struggled to think of something to stay, stunned by the sudden aggressiveness from his mate. He recalled Kiri’s words.

“He grew up with our children. He sees us as family…”

“No!” Neytiri interrupted. “That demon-spawn is not any family of mine!”

“Do you want to know why he was with Quaritch?!” Kiri suddenly burst out. “It’s because of this! It’s because of you, mom!”

Jake tried to calm Kiri down, but she pushed him away.

“How many times have you almost killed Spider at this point!? No wonder he’s terrified of you! He would barely even talk to me because of how scared he was! And now this?! He cares about the one adult that’s actually a parent to him, and you think he should be crippled for life?!”

By now, both Jake and Neytiri were looking at Kiri, too stunned to react. They had never seen her close to this infuriated before.

“IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!” Kiri practically screamed at her mother. “YOU WANT TO MAKE SPIDER AS MISERABLE AS POSSIBLE BECAUSE OF WHO HIS DAD IS?” OR DO YOU THINK HE SHOULD DIEFOR IT? WERE YOU TRYING TO HIT HIM? WOULD YOU EVEN CARE IF SPIDER WAS DEAD RIGHT NOW?!”  

Kiri stopped speaking, only drawing shuddering breaths as she clenched her fists looking at her mom. Neytiri was looking down. Aside from a slight frown on her face, she hadn’t reacted. A few seconds passed.

“Do you care at all…?” Kiri asked again. This time her voice was softer, strained. Almost pleading.

Jake looked at his mate expectantly, but with every second of silence that passed, he felt his heart sink lower.

Why wasn’t she saying anything?

“Neytiri…?” Jake asked cautiously. Before he could say more, his mate closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“I…” She pursed her lips. “It was not my intention to harm Spider. The arrow was meant for the Demon alone.”

The answer made Kiri growl.

“Do you care that Spider was hit? Do you care that he might lose his arm?”

Neytiri sighed, her eyes still closed.

“He set Quaritch free. It must have been him. He set the Demon free.” She paused for a moment, thinking, then continued. “I did not intentionally hurt him, but…I cannot say I did not…wish for harm to come to him.”

Kiri hissed at the admission, but Jake barely noticed. It was like a stab in the gut to hear the words. His head felt like it was spinning.

“Neytiri…” He managed to choke out the name, but nothing more. His mate did not miss either of their reactions. She hung her head slightly.

“As a follower of Eywa, as a Tsahik, I…should not have wished harm upon any child. But it’s just…how can I forgive what he has done?’

Jake tried to say something, but he felt frozen in place. He felt paralyzed as Neytiri’s words replayed over and over in his mind. Kiri, too, seemed suddenly at a loss for words.

Neytiri stared back at them, then looked down, closing her eyes. She was the first to speak.

“I…I must think.” She spoke quickly, her voice slightly pained.

She stood to leave. Before she stepped out of the Marui, Jake finally sprung into action, reaching out and grabbed her hand.

“Neytiri, just…wait…”

Before Jake could say more, Neytiri pulled away and left her mate and daughter behind. Once again, Kiri and Jake were alone.

An painful silence filled the Marui. Jake racked his brain to think of what he could say to his daughter. He could barely even think at all…

“Kiri…your mother…she may think Spider is to blame, but I promise it’s not true.” Jake began, thinking he could at least assuage any concerns Kiri may have in that regard. “Spider was with me when Quaritch broke out.”

Kiri said nothing, but she frowned slightly at Jake’s reassurance.

“Kiri, is there…something you want to talk about?” Jake asked hesitantly. He could tell that his daughter didwant to say something, but she wasn’t.

For a moment, Kiri said, and did nothing. Jake prepared to leave, but then his daughter spoke quietly.

“I know you found Spider with Quaritch.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. That was a detail he hadn’t shared with anyone. How could Kiri know?

“It’s…” Kiri continued, looking down as she did. “Just…try to understand, dad. Please don’t hate Spider.”

“Kiri.” Jake put an arm on her shoulder. “I would never hate Spider. No matter what. I promised him, and I promised you I would be there for him, and I will stand by that. But what should I…understand?”

Even as he was asking the question, he had a feeling he already knew what Kiri was referring to. He couldn’tunderstand what exactly was happening with Spider and Quaritch. But he needed to. For Spider’s sake…

Before Kiri had the chance to answer, Jake already added.

“Help me understand. You know Spider. Tell me what…”

But Kiri just shook her head.

“I can’t. I’m not the one who should.”

Jake was disappointed but decided not to press her further on the matter. Slowly, he stood up to leave himself. Just as he did, though, a Metkayina warrior appeared at the entrance, causing both Jake and Kiri to jump.

“Toruk Makto?”

“Yes?”

“I was sent by our Tsahik to tell you…your sky-people friends say their work is done.”

Both Jake and Kiri’s eyes widened at the news. Without saying anything, they set off for the infirmary.

(…)

The constant hiss of the gas container finally grew silent as Norm shut the valve. Quickly, he disconnected the medical mask on Spider’s face, replacing it with a normal respirator.

Behind him, the sounds of various cases of medical equipment being shut signaled that Max had finished packing whatever they could reuse. Norm quickly turned his attention to the various pieces of medical waste scattered around their work area, collecting them in a large trash bag.

Soon, however, they were out of things to pack, and turned their attention pack to their patient.

They had done the best they could with Spider’s injury. Norm had probably never been so concentrated on a single task before. It might have been his best work. Definitely his best medical work.

And yet, for the moment, they were in limbo. All they could do was wait and see how Spider reacted when he woke.

As the minutes passed, Norm raced over what could happen next in his mind. There was no getting around it. The wound had been serious. While they had tried their best…

The scientists both jumped when a weak groan came from the boy laid on a bed in front of them. Quickly, they stood up and approached, keeping an eye on the vitals they were still reading.

After a moment of hesitation, Max spoke.

“Spider…buddy…?”

Slowly, and with a pained groan, Spider opened his eyes to look up at his caretakers.

Spider’s awake. But his arm...?

I know I haven’t really given Neytiri a proper scene in this fic and figured it was about time. I hope you liked my take on her in this AU. 

Thanks for reading! 💙

Taglist: @yesthisismycurrenthyperfixation @buzzing-honeybee @onlyreadz @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @babyymeme

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar Jake #avatar neytiri #avatar kiri #avatar spider #avatar quaritch #miles quaritch #spider socorro #recom quaritch #Jake sully

[sunnyie-eve]

12 | Free Pass

Series: Significant

Paring: Colby Brock x Original female character

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k

| MASTERLIST |

~

The four guys plus Penelope were going to do an overnight video at a trampoline park before they headed off to New Zealand for two weeks. "We're filming our birthday party." Corey says since they have cameras with them going in. "Yeah, it's Penelope's early birthday party. She's turning two." Corey says making her laugh.

While it's busy and they mess around then talk about where they were going to hide to stay overnight. Penelope tried telling the guy hiding the pizza wasn't going to work in the foam pit but they don't listen to her.

Coming time to hide they didn't realize Penelope didn't follow them to hide because she went to go get her shoes. "Where did you go?" Elton asks her but then he says never mind so she shakes her head taking a seat.

"This isn't going to work because you guys are dumb." She whispers but they are too busy talking.

When the lights turn off the worker finds them and they all follow him out. The guy was pretty cool with them so they asked how did they know that they were still there so he showed them their shoes.

"If you just let me talk." She shows them her shoes. "That's where I went." She laughs at them.

"At least she's smart." The guy tells them before letting them play longer.

For the bull riding Penelope stays in the longest making the guys cheer for her, "Thank you chubby thighs!" She pats them before walking towards the guys.

The guys were upset about the employees throwing away their pizza and Penelope said told you so. For Yoga Ball doge ball, Penelope was standing by Elton when he was filming the other three and as Colby threw the ball at Corey he missed it and it hit her in the face since she didn't move fast enough.

She falls backwards shocked from the smack to the front of her face, "What happened to you got it?" She shouts at Corey.

"I'm so sorry!" Colby runs over to her as she looks up at the ceiling.

"Sorry sissy." Corey helps her up.

"My nose hurts." She pouts so he kisses his fingers then touches her nose.

"It's okay, your face is still perfect so you still have a job." Colby holds her in his hands so she gets out to get the ball throwing it at him as he turns his back to her.

For baseball this time Colby gets hit in the face by Elton throwing the ball at him. Elton couldn't help but crack up while Colby shouted loudly, "Hey, are you guys laughing? I can't really hear anything right now."

"Are you okay?" Penelope asks looking at him and seeing how red he is. "Dude, look. He's red." She turns his head for Corey to see.

"Yeah, it got me right in the ear. I think I'm talking loud but I'm not really sure." He tells them. "How do I bend down and still manages to hit me in the head?" Colby asked as Elton was still laughing.

Once Elton points out the snack bar Corey and Colby go crazy turning their mouths blue. Penelope wanders off doing flips on the trampoline alone.

"Oh! Look at Penny go!" Elton shouts seeing her doing multiple front handsprings.

"I can do that too!" Corey runs over to do them as she stops.

Colby then goes and Penelope laughs at how he does his flips, "I wanna go again." She gets ready to do five back handsprings and shocks the guys.

"Thirteen years of gymnastics!" Sam points out.

They guys play around more and Penelope was already tired just sitting down and leaning back watching the horse around.

"You guys ready? Another super advance move." Elton jumps flipping to land in his face. Penelope covers her mouth laughing at him.

"Karma for hitting Colby." She points at him.

~

When the day came to head to New Zealand, Elton had Corey worrying about his passport made Penelope slightly annoyed because she just wanted to get going to rest on the plane.

"Hey, I don't have to give you a birthday gift when it's time, right?" Colby looks at Penelope as they relax on the plane.

"Nah, the trip is a good enough gift." She chuckles as she opens his camera for them to take a picture so they both stick their tongues out putting up a peace sign.

As soon as they land they eat McDonald's in the airport before Elton had them already starting a few things that dealed with jumping off things.

"Y'all bring me on a trip and the first thing you make a girl do that's afraid of heights is jump off a building, and then bungee jumping off a bridge?" Penelope looks at Elton.

"Pretty much." He laughs.

Going up to the top Corey and Penelope get nervous, "Okay, listen. When I say I'm afraid of heights, I mean this kind of shit like I can deal with like some thrill rides that are high but looking down is the problem." Penelope explains looking at the camera them out the window making her whine.

Corey ends up having to go first and Penelope had to go second making her whine. "You got this. Just don't look down."

"What?! Don't look down, Elton? Really!" She snaps at him as her heart races going through the door.

For her picture before going she does a sad face with a thumbs up making the guys laugh at her so she flips them off before walking out.

"Oh, mama." She looks down throwing her head back.

"She's going to hate us for the whole trip. Like it's her birthday week." Colby laughs.

"She's never going to let go of this." Sam adds as she jumps off.

"Oh, my god! I hate this! Why did I come!" She shouts looking right at her go-pro to distract her on the way down. "Sorry for the eye contact." She makes herself laugh as she lands.

"How was that?" A worker asks her.

"I hate my friends." She gets unhooked then runs to Corey fake crying.

"I know, I hated it too." He hugs her.

When everyone is done, Elton asks Corey how he feels so he tells him he hates him at the moment. "I look happy, Sam looks happy, Colby looks happy, Penny looks sad, and Corey looks scared out of his mind." Elton shows the pictures.

"I talked to the go-pro on the way down to distract myself." Penelope lets them know as they head out for the bridge.

For the bungee jumping part, Penelope was more scared and didn't know if she could actually do it. Colby could tell she was terrified because she hadn't made a peep since they got there. All geared up it started to set in and her hands were shaking so she hid them from the guys.

Corey says he's not jumping because he's too scared. Elton was up first and watching him makes her anxiety skyrocket. After Colby and Sam, they call Penelope's name but she can't move.

"I can't." She tells them.

"You can do it. You did the first one." Sam rubs her back.

"That's different. I'm going head first." She covers her face and they see how bad she was shaking.

"Penelope." Colby pulled her into a hug and she didn't care he was kinda wet.

"Hey, let me make you a deal." Elton walks her someways. "If you don't wanna jump that's fine but if you do you won't have to drive the whole trip."

"Can I get a pass on this? As a birthday gift? Not to jump?" She tries to bargain with him.

"Okay, for your birthday you give a free pass." They shake on it.

"Okay, I'm not doing this then." She smiles, "Birthday girl gets a pass!" She lets the others know happy she doesn't have to do it.

Back down Elton gets ice cream for him, Sam, and Colby, but Penelope didn't get any because she didn't want to, "I don't wanna leave my bubba out." She leans on his back.

"Oh, thank you." Corey smiles patting her arm.

At their hotel, everyone had twin beds and two rooms so Penelope was confused about where exactly she was sleeping because there were no sofas in the room.

"I figured for a night you and Colby would be fine sharing the bed." Elton lets her know, "Y'all cuddle anyways."

"We can make it work. Don't worry." Colby lets her know.

For bed, Colby and Penelope had their back against each other till he flipped over to spoon her since he was uncomfortable lying the other way.

"I hate you." She whispers since Sam was asleep.

"Why?"

"Making me come on this trip to jump off a building first." She turned her head to look at him even though she couldn't see him in the dark.

"I didn't make you do anything. You could've stayed home." He moved closer to her ear to where she could feel his hot breath. "I'm proud of you for doing the first one though."

"Thank you. But I feel like a sissy for not doing the second one. People are going to make fun of me for almost having a panic attack."

"Hey, Corey sissyed out of it. You get a free pass to skip it. And no one should make fun of you for a fear." He kisses the back of her head. "Now let's get to sleep because the RV is gonna suck."

#sam and colby #colby brock #sam golbach #katrina stuart #jake webber #corey scherer #elton castee #tara yummy #colby brock imagine #colby brock ff #colby brock fanfic #best friend #friends to lovers #tfil

[jessicanjpa]

a good day

(An excerpt from this chapter of 2003, set just a few weeks after the Cullens arrive. Edward and Esme are doing paperwork at the dining room table when Carlisle gets home from work. Bonus: this is the first time Bella is mentioned in Tale of Years!)

"Carlisle's home," I told Esme, turning my head to the familiar sound of my father's thoughts. A moment later, we heard the powerful rumble of the Mercedes turning off the main road.

You won't believe the day I've had!

Carlisle burst in the kitchen door a moment later, grinning from ear to ear. He swooped down to receive Esme's welcome-home kiss and poured another mountain of mail onto the table out of a bulky package. There was so much mail—especially in the beginning of a new move—that we couldn't risk raising the postal workers' interest by receiving each piece separately. One of Jenks's "services" was routing a good chunk of that mail to us via packages like this one.

"You're in a good mood," I teased, catching the tallest pile of papers—Alice's investment reports—just as Carlisle's new addition sent it tumbling off the edge. Those "Go Paperless" campaigns were starting to look better and better. We could singlehandedly save a whole forest at the rate we were going.

"Indeed I am," he said. He kissed Esme again for good measure. "Days like this... they make everything doubly worthwhile."

"Tell us," Esme said with a knowing smile. She pushed out the chair beside her with her foot, paperwork forgotten. He sat down and took her hand.

"A young man was brought in after a motorcycle accident," he began. "It didn't look good; his blood pressure was already threatening to bottom out. Extensive road rash, compound ulnar and femoral fractures... and a suspected open-book pelvic fracture. The paramedics had a binder on him already. Dr. Snow called for a helicopter as soon as he was brought in. Forks is only a Level IV trauma center. Everyone said it was too late—and it would have been, if I had let them waste any more time.

"I took over immediately. I nearly got fired on the spot, and I may still face a lawsuit for breaking protocol if he doesn't make it in the end. But I'm confident he will. I suspected a rupture of the iliolumbar vessels. I opened right up and started with the gauze packing, and we didn't even have the right kind of arterial balloon but I managed to get them all distracted so I could get the sutures done at my speed—oh, I'm sorry, Edward..."

My throat flared at the bloody imagery as Carlisle chattered on at superspeed, but his good mood was infectious. He lived for scenarios like this: when he was able to save a patient when no one else could, either because of his acute senses, his vast experience, or his ability to operate at vampire speed when he could get everyone else to look away for a moment. Or all three, in this case. Carlisle looked so happy on days like this. So young.

"We still had him lifted to Harborview in the end," Carlisle said in conclusion, "but he was already stabilized. Dr. Snow is still upset about how I had taken over. I actually shoved him out of my way! But even he can't deny that I had saved a life he had already pronounced lost. Once we were cleaned up, he took me out to the lobby himself and told the patient's friend—none other than our local chief of police—about my being a miracle worker."

"Only three weeks this time," Esme said, gazing at him with adoring eyes. "Only three weeks and you're already the Miracle Worker."

Carlisle smiled bashfully at her praise, then went on to describe how Chief Swan had nearly broken down right there in the ER lobby, gushing his gratitude for Carlisle's heroic rescue. Apparently one of the nurses had already let it slip that his buddy wasn't going to make it. It sounded like he had personal experience with motorcycle fatalities, making him doubly in awe of today's outcome and of the Miracle Worker.

Carlisle tended to accumulate nicknames wherever he worked: any number of variations on the themes of Doogie Howser and Miracle Worker. His fellow physicians either loved or hated him, but in the end, they always came to respect his good instincts. Having made some minor forays into the medical field myself, I was most in awe of Carlisle's ability to take decisive action during blood-soaked emergencies. He took risks most emergency physicians wouldn't dream of, and they nearly always turned out for the best. And I couldn't imagine being able to open up a pelvic cavity full of two liters of gushing blood and get right to work.

"Chief Swan sounds like a good man," Esme said fondly.

"I think so, too," Carlisle agreed. He was picturing a nondescript middle-aged man with brown hair and a mustache. The man's chocolate-brown eyes teared up as he acknowledged Carlisle's help. "We talked for a bit. He lives alone, though his daughter occasionally comes to visit in the summertime. He's an avid fisherman—he even asked me if I would like to join him out in his boat someday."

"That'd be a good trick," I said, rolling my eyes. Fishing and vampires didn't mix. Hours of sunshine with no escape, fish getting frightened away, sharp hooks in human fingers, close observation... Carlisle smiled sadly, going on to say how he had politely declined but thanked Chief Swan for the invitation.

It was a shame. Like Alice, Carlisle would have loved to have a human friend. Someone he could be fully honest with, or at least someone he could bond with over the things he would be able to talk about. But experience had taught us to keep our human peers at arms' length. It was better that way... for all of us. And fate seemed determined to remind us of that fact. The very next day gave us a scare like we hadn't had in years.

#Tale of Years teasers #Carlisle #Vampires at work #Charlie #Bella #Fanfiction #2003 stuff #In other words Carlisle and Charlie will absolutely go fishing someday

[nekropsii]

Hussie is not very good at writing Romantic Relationships.

[This is all Stream of Consciousness. Don't mind the meandering.]

On its own, this is fine, of course. That's a skill that sits squarely within it's own niche, and not every story needs romance in it. The trouble with this is how much the notion of Romantic Shipping is embedded to the story, down to defining its own unique Romance System... More than once.

Relationships are a key Narrative Device in Homestuck's storytelling- everyone is aware of this. The unique focus that Homestuck has on the interpersonal relationships that the cast has with one another is fascinating, and arguably one of, if not the biggest reason(s) why people are so enamored with the story and it's characters to begin with. So, that begs the question... If that's the case, why do the Romantic Relationships kind of suck, and why do so many people act like they don't? Moreover, why do so many people tend to push the blame onto specific pairings, rather than acknowledge that maybe... Hussie just wasn't equipped as a writer to write Romance?

Hussie's work has never been particularly focused on the idea of Romance. I can't think of a single piece of media he's released where that's even anywhere close to being on the table, outside of Homestuck itself. Their work tends towards somewhat High-Concept Fiction, with Lowbrow Surreal Humor tied to (usually Body-based) Horror- comics with a clearly communicable premise. Relationships are never truly the core focus- the premise is, whether that premise has the complexity of Whistles: The Starlight Calliope, or the simplicity of Humanimals. The focus was the absurdity of the story and premise itself. Hussie undeniably knew their niche. He knew what he was good at writing and illustrating, and they banked on it. Noting here that none of this is truly praise; think of it solely as a mild dissection.

The point is, to our knowledge, this would have been new grounds for Hussie, and the fact that it quickly became the heart of the story and the main appeal of the comic was most definitely a tricky transition. Luckily, since most of the audience was- and still is- so obsessed with Shipping, many people were quite willing to overlook the fact that the Romance is underdeveloped at best, and downright tacky at worst. From my scope on things, people tend to target Rosemary (Rose <3 Kanaya) in particular as the prime example of Poor Romance Writing, despite being one of the chief examples of Hussie's best work with Romance. The poorer examples tend to get swept under the rug, or even put on a pedestal, with people's mental image of the pairing far overriding their grip of what is and isn't actually canon- from Roxygen's (Roxy <3 Egbert) near nonexistence, to GamKar's (Gamzee <> Karkat) utter failure, to GamTav's (Gamzee <3 Tavros) existence as a joke.

I feel as if part of the issue is the scale of Homestuck's story. It's a Creation Myth that's saddled with a lot of thickly interwoven, tangled lore. The story is more something like a Power of Friendship kind of deal than a RomDrama. The grandiosity of the end goal makes it so that intensely focusing on the little details of these characters lives and their relationship with one another can be difficult to balance, especially considering the sheer size of the cast... Hussie put far too much on her plate as an indie creator to manage all these threads, even if they were good at writing relationships in the first place.

The real meat lies in the Platonic. Homestuck contains within itself a nice variety of very, very interesting friendships that are all but sorely neglected by the average fan, and it's quite upsetting...

#homestuck #homestuck meta #homestuck analysis #homestuck shipping #andrew hussie #homestuck.pdf #nekro.pdf #nekro.txt

[genevievemd]

Valentine Blues

February 14, 2024

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 1189 Rating: G Category: Fluff, Partial Ethan POV Trope(s): 

Summary: There’s a change in their Valentine’s plans

Warnings: none

A/N: I started this an hour and a half ago... who am I? lmao 

She stumbles out of their en suite, wet washcloth on her neck and a gentle hand on her every growing belly. Gently falling onto her and Ethan’s king-sized bed with a groan. She had hoped, with her sixteen week mark just a few days away, that the morning sickness would begin to subside. Though it seems now that it was here to stay. 

She’s had days where its not so bad and days when it’s kept her bedridden and lingers well past the morning, and it seems like today may be the latter. 

And of course to make it all worse, it was Valentine’s Day. One of her favorite days of the year. 

She loved love, and was so excited to celebrate with Ethan. They’d been married for almost two years, and expecting their first child. It was supposed to be their best Valentine’s yet. 

If not for the monster that was morning sickness. 

“Why do they call it morning sickness if it lasts all freaking day.” Gen sighs as another wave of nausea strikes, moving as best she can to sit up against the headboard. 

“I wish I had an answer for you, sweetheart.” Ethan enters the bedroom, a remorseful look on his face. “Try some water. You need to stay hydrated.” 

“Thank you.” She takes the glass from his hand, taking a slow sip. “I don’t think I can manage the reservation for tonight.” 

“It’s already cancelled.” Ethan leans down, kissing her forehead gently and taking the glass form her hand. Putting it down on the nightstand before moving around to the other side of the bed. 

“I’m sorry for ruining Valentine’s Day.” She can’t help but pout, shuffling over to rest her head on his shoulder. “I had a whole plan to be all sexy for you tonight too, before I balloon to the size of a couch, and now it’s ruined because vomiting is the least sexy thing in the entire world.” 

“Lucky for me, and us, there are 364 other days for us to have a romantic evening.” 

“But it’s the day of love!” 

“And we have plenty more in our future, G.” Gently, Ethan rests his hand on her belly, this thumb softly stroking back and forth. “The most important thing is that you and our baby stay healthy.” 

“I know.” She sighs deeply, feeling the wave of sickness pass, snuggling deeper into her husband’s side. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“Always, my love.” He kisses her head, breathing her in. “Why don’t you try and lay down and get some rest?” 

“Only if you stay until I fall asleep.” She moves away slightly, getting under the duvet and snuggling into her pillow. One hand reaching out to hold his. 

“Of course.” He strokes her hair with his freehand.

As disappointed as she is to be sick on her favorite day, at least she has Ethan. Willing to stay by her side and help her through it all. 

Ethan peaks his head into the bedroom, finding Gen still sound asleep in their bed. He felt terrible, wishing there was a way he could take her morning sickness away. Though, he was more inclined to call it “all day lingering well into the night” sickness. She was suffering and it broke his heart. 

And she was even more upset today, because it was Valentine’s Day. While, he still thought it to be an overly commercialized and pointless day, his wife did not. She had been so excited to go out, telling him all about the new sexy outfit she’d bought specifically for tonight. 

That was another thing he’d been noticing. She was already self conscious and worried about him no longer finding her attractive. 

Little did she know that Ethan believed her to be the most gorgeous creature he’s ever seen and she only got more angelic with every passing day as her belly grows. There would never be a day when he looked at her and thought she was anything less than stunningly perfect. 

Which was why he’d spent the afternoon cultivating everything he needed to make them a romantic Valentine’s Dinner at home. He had run to target while she rested, getting her the most comfy on theme pajamas he could find, and everything he needed to make her some homemade chicken noodle soup. It wasn’t the five star meal they had originally planned, but Ethan was certain it would be perfect nonetheless. 

He continues setting the table, using their wedding china instead of their everyday dishes. Even placing the coupes from that day on the table next to a bottle of sparkling nonalcoholic cider. The last time they’d used them was two years ago, when they bought their vacation beach home on the cape. 

Lighting the candles on the table and dimming the lights, he hears his wife shuffle out of bed. 

“Gen?” He calls out to her, worried she’s heading for their en suite for the umpteenth time that day. 

“I’m good. Just going to brush my teeth. No need to worry, Husband.” 

A few moments later she comes out of the bedroom, eyes wide at the site before her. The rose petals scattered around the table adding the final romantic touch. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, G.” He smiles, holding out his hand for her. 

“What’s all this?” She takes his hand without question, her eyes wet with tears. 

“I couldn’t very well have my pregnant wife sad on Valentine’s Day. So, while you were resting, I snuck out and went to Target.” He presents her a red giftbag, stuffed with glittering tissue paper. “And got you a few things, and what I needed to make you some soup.” 

“You’re…” She sniffles, taking the gift from him. “You’re the best husband ever.”

“Open your gift, Mrs. Ramsey.” 

“Right.” Without ceremony, she rips apart her package. Pulling out the tissue paper, and gasping when she sees the things inside. “You did all this?” 

“Of course. I got you some comfy pajamas, that bath bomb you love and some chocolate. As far as Valentine’s Day gifts go it may not be my best but –” 

She cuts him off with a kiss, hands on his cheeks as she kisses him. Lips moving over his with unrelenting passion and love. 

“This is the best gift ever. I’m gonna go change.” 

“Good. I’ll put dinner on the table.” 

Within five minutes, their sitting at their dining table, pajamas on and food set, staring lovingly at each other. 

“Thank you so much for this.” She picks up her glass, rocking happily in her seat as the sips on her cider. 

“You’re welcome. I won’t stand for my wife to have The Valentines Blues.” 

Her expression melts, soft eyes and even softer smile, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’m so lucky to have you.” 

“And I’m just as lucky to have, Rookie.”

Gen gets up from the table, stepping around and plopping herself in his lap. As if it’s second nature, they wrap their arms around each other, foreheads pressed together. Silently  basking in their love, knowing there isn’t anything they wouldn't do for each other.

A/N: Hope you liked it! Next fic with be angsty. 

Tagging Separately

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan x gen