#foul legacy finds you and immediately knows who you are

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

had some SAGAU thoughts this merry night

there's an old rumor that floats around the circles of the divine, that the Creator god will eventually and inevitably fall to the whims of the Abyss, consumed by the darkness forevermore. it terrifies the Archons and other divine beings to know that the one they worship and adore so much would have to endure such agony, so as all the devoted do, they try to prevent it. every law and order that is passed prepares only for the Creator's arrival, in hopes that the combined power of Teyvat will be able to keep their god safe and sound, sparing no expense to eradicate the Abyss' presence from the above world.

in their madness, they lay their eyes upon the one they worship and declare them- you- a heretic.

it was like a dream come true when you first woke up in Teyvat, the setting of your favorite game, but the dream quickly twisted into a nightmare as you found yourself hunted by every nation, seemingly every person yelling for your head on a platter. an imposter, they called you- a decoy sent by the Abyss- and for that, you deserved execution and death.

and execute you they did, when they inevitably caught you after weeks of running, your blood running a deep red on the pavement, speckled with nearly invisible stars.

when you wake up again, you first only feel pain, pain everywhere, from your head to the tips of your fingers. you want to cry out, but your throat is bone-dry, only faint, raspy coughs coming out. then suddenly you're surrounded by warmth, a pair of arms grasping your broken body gently with a soothing purr. Childe- Foul Legacy- cradles you lovingly, helping you sit up slightly to sip water before settling you back down with a soft croon, the entire Abyss silent and peaceful in your presence. Legacy traces the scar that runs the entire circumference of your neck with one delicate claw, letting out a quiet hiss at the thought of those foolish gods and mortals who hurt you before holding you closer and giving your head a comforting pat.

you smile, weak and faint, at the action, and Legacy rumbles in delight as the Abyss wraps around you; a dark, starry blanket of warmth and peace.

[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.

[dear--mars]

Bloodthirsty

── Synopsis: "The sun gave earth the most light but the earth is slowly destroying itself." Childe wasn't made for love and he knew this. So why does he keep trying? And why do you keep letting him try? Opening your arms for him to fall into even after everything, showing him such warmth that he thought he could only get from the sun.

── Character: Childe/Tartagliaa/Ajax

── CW: Toixc relationships, fighting, taking it too far.

── Notes: This is my 2nd and LAST birthday post. Enjoy the angst. [angst/slight comfort]

── Word count: 800+ words

Ever since he fell into the abyss, the euphoric feeling and the adrenaline that fighting gave him was one of a kind. As friendly as he seemed to outside people, he couldn’t care less about anyone other than his immediate family. 

He didn’t feel the need to connect with others, they would only get in the way. They don’t get him the way fighting does. Fighting doesn’t need to be logical, it didn’t have feelings he pretended to care about. In the world he was living in, he only needed himself and his own two fists. 

Being one of the Fatui harbingers didn’t help him either. If anything it made him worse. Childe became a slave to the adrenaline and the Tsaritsa took advantage of it, using him as a killing machine. 

But Childe never batted an eye, he knew that the Fatui was using him but it didn’t matter to him. He couldn’t be happier to be fighting and with his position as a harbinger, he gets paid an absurd amount of money for doing something he loves doing. Not to mention he’s able to support his family as an extra bonus.

He’s a family man but at his core, he's no better than a bloodthirsty dog. Someone like him is destined for violence, driven by anger, as he treats the world as if it’s only for conflict.

So what happens when he meets someone with the same kind of bite?

Your relationship with Childe was doomed to fail the moment it started. Both of you were too competitive, wanting to win everything, and treating everything like a competition. 

It was harmless at first. After a defeat, one of you would give a joking glare or side-eye before laughing it off and you’d be in each other’s arms at the end of the day, still madly in love. 

But as his work days get longer and your love fades, your competitions turns into more than just a lover’s quarrel or friendly banter. The two of you can't remember the last time you laughed together. Only screaming, yelling, and genuine arguing. But one day, he crossed a line he could never go back on.

“Well, at least, I didn’t try to kill myself over a minor inconvenience!” He yelled and the room stilled and Childe knew whatever happened after this day, your relationship would never go back to what it was before. 

You stayed silent, only able to hear the sound of your own voice. You bit your lip as anger took over you and you too, crossed the line. “At least I didn't run away from home because I was bored and fall into the abyss as a child and almost die!”

“You’re going there?!”

“Yeah, I am. What are you gonna do!?”

“Big talk coming from someone who almost got sexually assaulted and needed me to save them!”

“You bitch…. I don’t want to hear anything from the Tsaritsa’s lapdog!”

“I enjoy being in the Fatui!”

“I’m sure you do but your family doesn’t. I know you can see it. The way your parents and older siblings look at you, they're afraid of you. Because you're a monster. How are you going to feel when Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon find out who you really are?”

“Don’t spout any bullshit about family to me, when you killed yours with your own hands.”

“That wasn’t me! I was possessed!”

“It doesn’t matter, it was still your body, your hands that killed them. So who’s the real monster?”

“Still you! Can you even call yourself human with that foul legacy transformation of yours? You are the antithesis of what it means to be a human.”

“You know what? I’m with this!”

“Yeah, run away like you always do.”

“No, [Name] I'm serious I'm done with this.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?”

“For a fact, I am!”

“Then just leave!” was the last thing uttered before Childe slammed his hands on the table before storming out of the house. You sighed before running your hand through your hair. You knew he’d be back in a couple of days. This was a routine for you two but now you were doubting if you guys could go back and pretend that nothing happened.

It had been over 5 days and Childe still didn’t come home and you started to think that it was truly the end of your relationship. But you heard the door open, your head shot toward the sound of the door slamming shut. You saw Childe walk in, he looked a bit disheveled, there were clear eye bags and his hair was even more of a mess than it usually was.

We had eye contact and you bit back your usual questions, asking where he was and such. You saw Childe’s shoulder sag a bit before he walked up to you. Your eyes widened when he flopped onto the couch, his head in your lap. It was clear he wasn’t able to get much sleep. 

You let out a sigh before running your fingers through his hair, comforting him. You felt Childe melt at your touch, letting out a small groan as he nuzzled into your lap even further. 

That argument was never brought up ever again…

- Navigation -   - Prismarine -

[genshinluvr]

Crave 2

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Childe x Isekai'd!Reader, Foul Legacy x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You end up having an interesting dream about Childe's Foul Legacy form, causing you to feel guilty about it. You end up ignoring him for two days, only for Childe to confront you at the bathhouse as to why you were ignoring him. One thing led to another, you suddenly find Childe buried deep inside of you.

Note: This part of Crave focuses on Childe for my Childe/Tartaglia simps on AO3! There is triggering content in the smut, DO NOT READ THE FOUL LEGACY PORTION (literally the first 2k words of this story) IF YOU GET TRIGGERED BY THEMES OF RAPE/NON CONSENSUAL SEX. I won't be tagging people in this one because I don't want anyone to feel uncomfortable. The Foul Legacy portion will be bolded and in red text, so you will know where to skip if you want to skip the triggering scene of Crave 2. The smut doesn't immediately start, but there are events that lead up to the smut. Minors, DO NOT INTERACT! I tried to keep the smut as gender-neutral as possible, but this smut does lean more towards AFAB!reader/female-bodied reader. For those who are new or returning readers, I post on AO3 as well, so if you have an AO3 and see a work similar to this, it’s me (Aaliah_exo on AO3). I don’t post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Non-Con with Foul Legacy, Soft dom!Childe, breeding kink, hair pulling, Foul Legacy has a monstrous cock, spanking, cervix fucking, monster porn (????), creampie, orgasm denial, size kink

Word Count: 9.1k

Crave "Chapters": [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], [7]

You were lying on the ground, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You stared up at the ceiling, too exhausted to move or sit up. You hear loud footsteps approaching where you lay. You blinked slowly when the light was completely blocked off by the person— or thing— that peers down at you— Childe’s Foul Legacy form. With the deep noise rumbling from Foul Legacy’s chest, you couldn’t tell whether he was purring, growling, or laughing at you. You swallowed the lump in your throat, still trying to catch your breath.

“Okay, you win. What did you want to be your prize?” You whisper.

Earlier today, Childe had proposed that he wanted to teach you how to fight. Since you did not belong in Teyvat, Childe wanted to teach you how to fight in case there are scenarios where you have no other choice but to defend yourself. You agreed to Childe’s offer, and after getting the green light from the other men (who seemed reluctant to let a bloodthirsty Harbinger train you how to fight), Childe takes you to the Golden House to help train you. 

At first, you thought it was strange for Childe to take you to the Golden House to teach you hand-to-hand combat since it has more room compared to the abode; you didn’t see many issues with it. After all, before you were brought into Teyvat, you’ve fought Childe numerous times in the Golden House for weekly boss drops. You’ve fought him before and have beat him multiple times! It should be a piece of cake, right? 

Oh, how you were wrong.

“I don’t understand why you need to transform into Foul Legacy when sparring with me. I’m not Aether, nor am I a fighter.” You chuckled. Childe knelt down in front of you and reached his hands out to caress your face with his large hands.

“You put up quite a fight back there for someone that’s not from this universe,” Childe states. Childe’s voice was even deeper as Foul Legacy than himself. The sound of Foul Legacy’s deep voice sends heat straight to your core, causing you to press your thighs together tightly. You couldn’t tell if the heat that was rushing to your face was from the spar that both you and Childe had with one another earlier or if it was from embarrassment. Or arousal.

“Well, I didn’t want to die.” You joked, staring up at Childe as he continued to hover above you. “Plus, I know how you are whenever you fight. You love the adrenaline running through your veins, and you feel the thrill when adrenaline is pumping through your veins from a good fight.” You reply.

“Interesting…” Childe hums, continuing to caress your face in his hands. You couldn’t tell what was Childe’s facial expression due to the mask that was covering his face, but you knew that he was examining you closely. “Strip,” Childe states, catching you off guard.

“E-Excuse me?” You squeaked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” He asks; behind his mask, Childe was raising his eyebrows at you with a stern look on his face.

“Yes, because why would I strip under your command?” You challenged Childe, sitting up.

A deep rumble emits from the Foul Legacy’s chest; he is laughing at your question. He grabs onto your ankles before yanking you in his direction. You yelped when your back collided with the floor, sliding to where Childe was at.

“I have won this round of sparring with you. I believe that it’s right for me to claim my prize.” Foul Legacy’s deep voice made heat rush to your cheeks. Why did you find Foul Legacy so attractive compared to Childe himself? Maybe it’s because he’s so tall that he towers over the people around him, and his voice— oh, archons, his deep voice. You have no shame but to admit that you do find Foul Legacy pretty attractive. Maybe you’re into monsters and monster porn; perhaps you’re not into it! Either way, the view in front of you caused you to feel your underwear starting to become soaked at the sight of Foul Legacy towering over you. He looked so…. Regal and dominate. Your mouth was almost salivating at the thought of Childe fucking you in his Foul Legacy transformation. Oh, wait, perhaps that’s what he’s going to do after all.

“A-And what would that prize be?” You squeaked, feeling the heat between your legs pool in your underwear, and your groin throbs with need.

“Oh, don’t play coy, [Y/N].” He chuckles, his hands trailing up your legs before his large— very large hands gripped onto the plush of your thighs, lightly squeezing them. You feel the metal talons of his gloves graze your sensitive crotch, sending shivers down your spine. “You know what I want to be my prize, don’t pretend like you don’t know.” He purrs, leaning close to your face.

“But I don’t!” You squeaked, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt his hands creep closer and closer to where your throbbing core is at. Embarrassingly enough, you bet that Childe can feel the heat pooling in your underwear.

“Oh, looks like I’ll have to do it myself then.” Childe sighs in fake disappointment. Before you could react to what he had said, Childe grabs onto your pants and underwear, tearing them entirely off of you. You yelped at the sound of your pants and underwear ripping to shreds; Childe threw it over his shoulders carelessly before grabbing both of your thighs, spreading them apart.

“Childeeeeee!” You whined, your face becoming flustered when you felt the cool air blowing down on your soaked entrance.

“Oh, what’s this? You’re so wet for me.” Chile coos. His chest rumbles with laughter as his long fingers trail up to your heat. You squeaked when you felt the cold metal talons poking and prodding your entrance. You looked away from Childe, too humiliated to watch what he was doing. “Don’t be shy now. Look at me.” He demands, grabbing your face with his left hand and forcing you to look at him.

The way you stared up at him with doe-like eyes, your face was bright red from embarrassment, your legs trembling in his hands. Just the slightest sight of you beneath him stirred something deep in Childe’s chest. Childe feels his dick harden in his pants, forming a tent. Childe has this overwhelming urge to fuck you until your lower belly is swollen with his seed, your entrance dripping with a mix of your and his cum. He wants to feel your tight walls around his cock, sucking him in. He wants to breed you until you’re begging for his cum to be deep inside you.

“You are my prize, aren’t you?” Childe asks, stroking your face with his massive hands. You trembled under his gaze, feeling his index finger on his right hand massaging your sopping hole. “Well? Are you?” Childe demands, pressing his index finger up against your aching groin. Pleasure shoots up your body, making you arch your back with a strained yelp.

“Yes! Yes, I’m your prize. I’m all yours, Childe.” You whimpered. 

Childe purrs at the sound of your whimpers, his cock swelling up in his pants as he takes his hands away from you. You let out a panicked exhale, craving for his touch again. You leaned on your elbows, looking up at the Foul Legacy’s monstrous form. You watched Childe start to take his pants off, your eyes widening at the sight in front of you. Childe pulls out his long, monstrous cock from his pants. The bulbous tip of his member was bright red, a bead of precum coming out from the slit of his dick. Childe’s cock was very long, veiny, and thick— you couldn’t tell if his dick was already that big or if the size of his dick was enlarged to fit the size of Foul Legacy. Other than that, there was no way that thing would fit inside of you. You’re confident that if Childe were to insert that long, thick, veiny cock of his inside of you, it would tear you to shreds. While the thought of you dying with Foul Legacy’s fat cock inside of you, you did not like the sound of it because it sounded painful.

“Like what you see?” Childe laughs, grabbing onto his girthy member before stroking it with his hands.

“I don’t think that’s going to fit inside of me.” You said weakly, trembling at the sight of the enormous cock in front of your face.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, snookums. It’ll fit just fine.” Childe coos as he continues to pump his cock with his fist, soft groans were escaping his mouth. You feel yourself becoming wetter at the sound of his moans and groans, the sight of him stroking and squeezing his member. “If it doesn’t, I’ll make it fit inside of you.” Childe grunts, leaning over you with his left arm while continuing to fondle his hardened cock. Childe spreads your legs further apart with his thighs, lightly tapping his length onto your hot entrance. The warmth of Childe’s cock tapping onto your groin made you jolt. Was this going to happen? Have you died and gone to heaven?

“Wait!” You said, tapping on his shoulders. “A-Are you sure you want to do this?” You squeaked, looking up at Childe nervously.

“Oh, I know that I want this. I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I first laid my eyes on you, snookums.” Childe purrs, his face leaning down, nuzzling his face (mask?) into the crook of your neck. As you opened your mouth to say something, you felt your breath get caught in your throat when Childe began to insert the mushroom tip of his cock into your entrance. You grabbed onto Childe’s biceps, whimpering in pain as Childe struggled to slide into your heat.

“Archons, you’re so tight.” Childe grunts, clenching his jaws as he bucks his hips against yours.

“You’re too big! It’s not going to fit!” You shrieked, tensing up at each thrust.

“Stop clenching! Relax!” Childe growls, planting both of his arms down beside your head, continuing to nudge his cock deeper inside of your hole. Tears pool around your eyes before cascading down your cheeks, your face pinched up, teeth grinding down on each other. You tighten your grip on Childe’s biceps, nails digging into his armored arms.

“You’re too big, Childe! It hurts.” You whined, writhing under Childe’s body as he continued to rut his hips against yours. Childe groans, thrusting his dick into you. You felt like you were being split open. You can feel yourself stretching out to accommodate Childe’s wide cock.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Childe breathes, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. “Relax a bit for me, baby. I’m not close to being inside of you completely.” Childe grunts, lightly tapping on your thighs. You didn’t listen to Childe, too deep into your thoughts, whimpering from the feeling of being stretched out by the Foul Legacy’s ginormous cock.

“I-I’m trying, but I c-can’t!” You wailed, your thighs tensing around Childe’s waist, causing Childe to groan from both annoyance and frustration.

“If you can’t relax, then I guess we’ll have to do it the hard way.” He growls, leaning back on his legs before grabbing onto both of your calves. Your eyes widened in horror when he spread your legs far apart before roughly thrusting into your aching hole. A shrill scream emits from you; your head flies back against the floor of the Golden House, your back arches, and your thighs tense up from the sharp pain. Childe’s head rolls back from the pleasure he felt when he had fully sheathed inside of your walls. Loud and deep pleasured moans escaped from Childe. His head was thrown back, feeling his eyes roll to the back of his head. The way your gummy walls squeeze so tightly around his cock, made him almost cum right on the spot, but he held himself back from doing so. Childe feels his body quivering with pleasure, fighting the urge to ram into your tight walls.

Childe pulls his hips back before sending another powerful thrust up against your hips, his dick sliding into your entrance. The searing pain in between your legs was making it hard for you to focus on what was going on. Childe begins to send short, hard thrusts. Childe wraps your legs around his waist, and he leans on both of his arms, continuously plunging his dick in and out of your entrance. The pain between your legs was gradually becoming dull; soon, the pain was replaced with pleasure. Small, weak moans and whimpers escape your lips each time the bulbous tip of his cock hits the sweet spot inside of you, causing you to see stars dancing in your vision.

“Come on, snookums. Don’t hold back your cute moans from me now.” Childe coos, stroking your chin as he continues to deliver harsh thrusts. His hips were slamming against yours, and the sound of skin-to-skin contact echoes throughout the Golden House. Aside from the sound of skin slapping echoing in the Golden Hose, both your and Childe’s moans were accompanying it. Childe’s balls were slapping against your ass with every thrust, his balls coated in your slick. One strong thrust against your hips caused his cock to reach deeper parts inside of you, causing you to arch your back with a loud cry. Childe groans and reaches up to grab onto your hair before yanking it back. Your walls were beginning to tighten around Childe’s dick, his hips stuttering against yours. Childe’s head falls on your shoulders before hamming into you; you cried out in pleasure, holding onto his shoulders while your nails dug into his clothes.

“C-Childe! I-I’m going to…” You wailed, burying your face into his chest.

“Don’t cum yet! Don’t you dare cum until I tell you that you can!” Childe growls, lifting his head off your shoulders before proceeding to plunge his thick, monstrous cock in and out of your hole. You shrieked, your eyes squeezing shut as you tried to resist the urge to cum on his dick.

“But! I-I can’t!” You whimpered, feeling the tight rope in your lower abdomen becoming tighter. Childe clenched his teeth together, rolling his hips against yours, hitting the same spot deep inside of you once more. The coil in your lower abdomen suddenly snaps, and your jaws drop, a silent scream escaping from your mouth as you creamed all over Childe’s cock. Childe pistons into your hole before cumming deep inside of you.

You jolt up in your bed, covered in sweat. You looked around your bedroom, your chest heaving as you tried to take deep breaths to calm down. You took a gulp of air; you threw your legs over your bed to get up for the day, only to feel how soaked your underwear was. You feel heat rush to your cheeks; you cover your face with your hands and groan.

“It was all a dream.” You patted your cheeks, trying to erase the very vivid dreams out of your mind. There was no way you’re going to be able to face Childe after having a wet dream of him in his Foul Legacy transformation, railing you so hard with the Foul Legacy’s monstrous co— you slap yourself on the cheeks. You’re going to need a hot shower, that’s for sure. Hopefully, a nice hot shower will calm your nerves and take your mind off of the dream you had of Childe and his Foul Legacy transformation. The dream felt so vivid; it’s almost like it actually happened. Your thighs were aching, and your legs felt funny. Each step you took was a limp rather than how you’d normally walk. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you reached down to press down in between your legs. You can feel a dull ache. At first, you didn’t know what the cause of the soreness between your legs was, but then it dawned on you. Zhongli and Diluc. It had been only a day since the little…. Intimate moment between you, Zhongli, and Diluc happened. You covered your face in embarrassment before limping to the bathroom. Great, how are you going to face the others after the whole incident? 

“Is [Y/N] still asleep?” Diluc asks, setting a plate of pancakes down in front of Scaramouche before heading over to his seat with his own plate of breakfast and sitting down right beside Zhongli. It was quiet, and the atmosphere was almost tense among the men. Diluc was the first one to speak up out of the rest of the men. The others seem to hold some hostility against both the wine tycoon and ex-archon.

“It appears so, [Y/N] must’ve been really tired.” Zhongli hums, sipping on his coffee after gently blowing air onto it to cool down.

“Huh, I wonder what could be the cause of them to be so tired.” Childe huffs, crossing his arms over his chest with a deep frown on his face.

“It’s quite obvious as to why [Y/N] is taking so long to get out of bed.” Albedo sighs, shaking his head as he cuts his pancake with a knife.

“Oh? And what would that reason be?” Zhongli asks nonchalantly, setting his coffee mug down on the table before grabbing his utensils.

“Don’t act like you don’t know the reason as to why [Y/N] is taking so long to get out of bed.” Dainsleif rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You guys do know that we heard everything, right?” Ayato asks, lifting up his milk tea before sipping from it as he keeps his eyes trained on both Diluc and Zhongli.

“Yeah, the three of you weren’t quiet at all,” Itto says, shoving pancakes into his mouth with a huff of breath, clearly annoyed about the incident from a few days ago.

“What does it feel like?” Scaramouche asks, stabbing his pancake before shoving it into his mouth and chewing on the pancake bitterly.

“What does what feel like?” Diluc asks, cocking his eyebrow at the electro Harbinger.

“Oh, you know what he’s asking.” Xiao rolls his eyes, his jaws ticked.

Kaeya rests his elbow on the table before he rests his chin on the palm of his hands. “What does it feel like to be inside of [Y/N]?” Kaeya asks as a bitter smile appears on his face. “Warm? Tight?” He raised an eyebrow at both Diluc and Zhongli, who kept calm the entire time.

“Ahem!” Thoma clears his throat awkwardly before giving everyone an awkward smile. “Listen, I know most of us are upset, but let’s not talk about it while we’re having breakfast.” Thoma says gently, cutting his pancake into small bits before eating it.

“How can we have breakfast when [Y/N]’s not even down yet?” Venti asks, pouting at the rest of the men.

“I’m sure that whenever [Y/N] is ready to eat breakfast, they’ll come down from their bedroom.” Baizhu says, drinking his valberry juice.

The sound of your bedroom door opening made the men go silent. They hear your footsteps walking toward the stairs. You were finally out of the shower and fully dressed, but the minor issue was it was a little bit hard for you to walk casually without making it evident that there was a limp in your walk. You have decided to walk down the stairs slowly, hoping that it will make your walk look a little bit normal. You’re just mentally praying to the archons that no one will notice the limp in your walk. You paused in your steps, realizing that you’re currently living under the same roof as two other archons. Well, one archon and one ex archon. The ex-archon was the one that caused you to have the limp in your walk, whereas the red-headed wine tycoon was the reason why you feel even more tired than you usually do. To say the least, you were surprised to see that there are people who have that much stamina. Whether they wield a vision or not, people with high stamina levels never cease to amaze you. Considering you are one of the people that wish to have high stamina, only to run out of breath while walking up the stairs.

“Good morning, [Y/N]!” Kazuha gives you a polite smile, lifting his cup to take a sip from it. He was secretly sipping sake, telling the others that it was water.

“How was your sleep last night? I hope you slept well!” Gorou says, giving you a bright smile. The men give you a smile as you sit down between Childe and Scaramouche.

“Good morning! I slept pretty well, actually! Like a baby.” You said, grabbing onto your knife and fork before cutting into the stacks of pancakes in front of you.

“Did you now?” Ayato hums, cocking an eyebrow at you as he continues to drink his milk tea.

“Yes, I think it’s the best sleep I’ve ever gotten.” You hummed, lifting the slice of the pancake before putting them into your mouth. 

It was nice to have breakfast after doing some rigorous activity yesterday; who knew that exerting your body can cause you to be so famish! You hummed in delight when the flavor bursts into your mouth. You lift your eyes, only to see the fifteen men stare at you intently, barely touching their breakfast. You blinked at all of them in confusion, your head tilting to the side. The looks they had on their face was rather odd.

You cleared your throat awkwardly before asking, “Is there something on my face by any chance?” You reached for a cloth napkin before lightly wiping your face.

“Yeah, another man’s cum and not mine.” Childe huffs, causing Gorou and Xiao to choke on their drinks at Childe’s terse response.

“Excuse me?” You squeaked, looking at Childe like a deer caught in headlights. How are you supposed to respond to a comment like that when you literally had a wet dream about the man himself!?

“You don’t have anything on your face, don’t worry about it,” Dainsleif interjects, looking over at Childe with a glare. Childe rolls his eyes before continuing to eat his breakfast grumpily. Oh boy, an unhappy Childe is a problem Childe.

“So! What do you think of the pancakes, [Y/N]?” Venti asks, drinking his wine. You blinked at the drink in Venti’s hand before pointing at it, raising an eyebrow at the anemo archon. 

“Breakfast is fantastic, but isn’t it too early to drink wine?” You ask.

“It’s never too early to have a sip of wine or two.” Kazuha hums, swirling the sake in his cup.

“If you say so.” You sighed, continuing to eat your breakfast.

“Ah yes, the wise words of an alcoholic.” Itto chimes, letting out a hearty laugh before roughly patting both Kazuha and Venti, causing the two to jerk in their seats at the impact.

“Hm, seems like the perfect nickname for those two and the cryo vision holder over there,” Xiao says, gesturing his head towards Kaeya’s direction. Kaeya smirks at Xiao’s comment, leaning back in his seat with an amused look on his face.

“Let’s not start any problems at this time! After all, it is still early in the morning.” Gorou laughs nervously.

“Why is everyone so weird today?” You sighed, reaching for your drink to hydrate yourself. While you may have a guess or two as to why the men have been acting off today, you didn’t want to say it because it would make the situation even worse. Or, at least that’s what you think is going to happen. Even if you didn’t say the apparent reason as to why everyone (except for Diluc and Zhongli) has been acting tense, the men look like they wanted to explode. Either from their jealousy and anger or because they want to blow their load onto your face. Either way, it’s bound to happen any time soon.

“Everyone is acting weird because all of us heard you, the ex-archon, and that wine tycoon getting it on yesterday,” Scaramouche says, giving you a look. You feel your face becoming hot when all eyes land on you, Diluc, and Zhongli.

“Were we that loud?” You squeaked; you could tell that your face was just as red as Diluc’s hair, if not perhaps even darker.

“You were loud,” Childe muttered, looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a deep frown on his face.

“O-Oh, was I now?” You laugh sheepishly, feeling the heat travel down your neck and chest.

“Literally singing to Celestia and everything.” Baizhu chuckles, shaking his head while Changsheng hissed with laughter. Oh great, even the snake hears you moan and whine Diluc and Zhongli’s name, not just the men.

You covered your face with your hands, trying to keep yourself calm while your heart was racing in your chest. How are you going to face them now? You can’t go anywhere or be around them without knowing that they heard you getting your organs rearranged by Zhongli and Diluc. Zhongli and Diluc didn’t seem to mind that everyone knew they were the first ones to be inside of you (technically, it was Diluc, but both were able to bed with you before the others could).

“Well, I think [Y/N] singing to Celestia is beautiful,” Diluc says, the corner of his lips quirked up into a faint smirk.

“You should see their face when they’ve reached their peak of pleasure,” Zhongli adds, a victorious smile appearing on his face.

“Okay, no need to brag that you two were able to rearrange their guts, okay?” Itto says, his mouth full of pancakes. He looked concentrated as he tried to chew a mouthful of pancake in his mouth, his cheeks puffed out.

“Let’s not talk about this now at the table, shall we? We still have breakfast to finish.” Venti says, taking another sip of his wine.

“Yes! Let’s eat breakfast, and then we’ll talk later!” Gorou nods his head in agreement before chowing down his breakfast.

Breakfast was quiet; the only sound that was heard was the sound of utensils clinking against the plates. Sometimes, one person would say something, and the other would reply. The silence was comfortable, but the tension was still there, and the tension was heavy.

“So, anyone had an interesting dream last night?” Thoma asks, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin.

“I had the strangest dream about being on an island, and the ocean was milk tea,” Ayato says, furrowing his eyebrows as he tries to recall the dream he had the previous night. 

“Maybe your dream is trying to tell you something!” Itto says, letting out a loud burp before excusing himself with a sheepish smile.

“And what would that be exactly?” Scaramouche rolls his eyes, taking another bite from his pancake. The men pondered for a moment, their left and right hands caressing their chins as they tried to decipher what Ayato’s dream could be trying to tell him. Alas, most men came up with nothing, except for Xiao, who rolled his eyes with a loud sigh. The men look over at Xiao curiously, waiting for Xiao to say what was on his mind. You just hope that none of the men ask you about what you’ve dreamt of the night before because you don’t think you can tell them a lie. After all, they know when you’re lying. Especially Childe.

“His dream could be a sign, telling him to stop drinking so much boba because it’s not good for you,” Xiao says, getting up from his seat with his empty plate in his hand.

“While milk tea is delicious, drinking that much sugar is not good for you. I agree with Xiao and your dream on that one.” Albedo says, dabbing his lips with the cloth napkin.

“I think drinking milk tea is far less dangerous than the three drunkards in this abode.” Scaramouche retorts, looking over at where Kaeya, Venti, and Kazuha sat.

“Hey, we know our limits! We don’t go overboard with our alcohol intakes.” Kaeya says, holding his hand up as if he was surrendering.

“Well, some of us are better at controlling the amount of alcohol we drink than others.” Kazuha chuckles softly, looking over at the drunken bard.

“And yet the three of you continue to drink over the normal limit.” Dainsleif sighs, shaking his head in disapproval.

“What about you, [Y/N]?” Thoma asks happily, looking at your curiously, a sweet smile appearing on his face as he waits for your answer. 

“What about me?” You blinked at Thoma, tilting your head to the side while looking at him quizzically.

“Thoma is asking about what you dreamt about last night!” Gorou replies, sipping on his sunsettia juice.

“O-Oh! I don’t think I remember my dream.” You laugh nervously, scratching the back of your neck.

Childe furrows his eyebrows before turning towards you, “You don’t think you can remember your dream?” 

“Shit. He’s onto me.” Was what echoed in your mind as you tried to come up with excuses not to tell them what you’d dreamt of the night before. You sipped from your drink awkwardly while nodding your head slowly.

“I don’t have the best memory; there are times when it’s hard for me to remember dreams and other things.” You reply. Technically, you weren’t lying at all. There are times when you have a hard time remembering the littlest things. While you excel in your academics, remembering the simplest things is a bit challenging for you.

“I think you should see a doctor about that. That doesn’t sound good.” Baizhu says; Changsheng nods her head in agreement.

“Oh, no! It’s nothing to worry about. I hit my head a lot when I was a kid.” You said, brushing Baizhu’s comment off as if it was nothing. 

The men stared at you, their mouths agape, not knowing what else to say. You continued to eat your breakfast while the men continued to stare at you as if they were waiting for you to give them an explanation as to what you meant when you said that you hit your head a lot when you were a kid. That’s concerning; how were you even alive? How often did you hit your head when you were a kid? Did you ever go to a doctor to get a checkup, just in case there were some damages done to your skull?

“Anyway! Please, tell us what you dreamt of last night. If you can sleep that long, I’m sure you can remember small bits of your dreams.” Itto says, looking at you with an expectant gaze. If he had a tail, you’re pretty sure that it would be wagging with anticipation like how Gorou’s tail is currently wagging.

“Okay, fine.” You sighed in defeat. “I had a dream about Childe, there. You happy now?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“About the bloodthirsty Harbinger?!” Scaramouche asks, looking at you in disbelief.

“Um, aren’t you a bloodthirsty Harbinger too?” Ayato asks, cocking his eyebrows at the electro Harbinger with his arms over his chest.

“No, no! He’s the deranged psychopathic Raiden Shogun puppet Harbinger.” Venti corrects the Kamisato heir, ignoring the murderous look Scaramouche was giving him while taking a long sip of his dandelion wine.

“What was your dream about?” Xiao asks, turning towards you as he sits across from you.

“I’m not going into details!” You squeaked, looking at Xiao with an incredulous look on your face. You turned your head away from Xiao with an exasperated sigh. “You all asked me what my dream was about, and I answered your questions!” You huffed, getting up from your seat before walking to the kitchen to wash your dishes.

There was no way in hell you were going to give the men details as to what had happened in your dream when it came to Childe. You technically did and did not have a dream about Childe. It was his Foul Legacy form, but you didn’t know whether you should mention that it was Foul Legacy and not Childe, but that would give away what you’ve dreamt about. After you had left to go wash your dishes, the men looked over at Childe, who was deep in his thoughts.

“So, [Y/N] dreamt of another man right after getting their insides rearranged by two different men?” Albedo asks, stroking his chin.

“I wonder what [Y/N] could’ve dreamt about when it came to Childe,” Kazuha whispers to Albedo.

“Probably a dream about them avoiding Childe at all cost. I don’t blame them.” Kaeya jokes.

“Maybe that’s why [Y/N] has been acting a little bit strange when they’re around Childe,” Dainsleif mutters to himself.

“[Y/N] has always acted strange around Childe.” Diluc snorts, shaking his head. Childe frowned at Diluc’s comment before looking over at where you’ve disappeared off to. What could you be dreaming about him?

“Alright, alright. That’s enough. Since we’re all finished with our breakfast, let's clean up after ourselves now.” Zhongli says, getting up from his seat before heading to the kitchen with his empty plate and cup in his hands; the others soon followed after Zhongli.

Since you’ve revealed who your dream was about, you have been avoiding Childe all day as much as you could. Every time Childe comes up to you to talk to you, you would give him a shitty excuse to avoid talking to him. Even if Childe were to ask you where Itto or Zhongli is, you would give him a lousy reason before walking off, leaving the poor man behind, standing there watching you go in confusion.

Just when Childe thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. Whenever he stepped into the room, you would get up and leave the room. If you’re in the same room as the fourteen other men and Childe comes along, you will act like Childe did not exist. Aside from the vulgar comment that he had made earlier that morning, Childe didn’t really know what he had done for you to avoid him like this. Sure, there are times when you would steer clear from him (playfully), but this one bothered him. It was almost like you were afraid to be around him. Well, the word afraid isn’t the perfect word to describe you whenever you’re in the same room as he was, but it felt that way to Childe. Perhaps the way you’ve avoided him seems like you’re embarrassed to be in the same room as him, and he didn’t know what the actual reason for you to avoid him. This dragged on for two days, and it was driving Childe crazy.

“Hey, has anyone seen [Y/N]?” Childe asks, walking into the living area where the men were resting.

“I think they’re in the bathhouse.” Ayato hums, flipping through the book in his lap while sipping on his beloved milk tea.

“Why’d you ask? Going to bother them or something?” Scaramouche asks, gazing at Childe skeptically.

“What? No! I’m going to try to talk to them because they’ve been avoiding me for two days now!” Childe exclaims, his shoulders slumped in defeat, a quiet sigh escaping from his mouth.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve never realized that [Y/N] was trying to ignore you.” Kaeya hums, scratching his chin with an amused look on his face.

“I don’t know. It was pretty obvious that [Y/N] didn’t want to be in the same room as Childe,” Zhongli murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Perhaps the dream they had of Childe is bothering them,” Zhongli adds. After hearing Zhongli's comment, a lightbulb appears on top of Childe’s head.

“Oh my gosh, why haven’t I thought about that?!” Childe gasps, slapping himself on his cheek. The loud smack resounds in the living room, causing the others to flinch at the sharp sound of the slap. “Be right back. I’m going to have a talk with [Y/N]!” Childe says, turning around to walk off, only to be held back by Diluc.

“Are you sure you want to talk to [Y/N] while they’re in the bathhouse? I’m sure [Y/N] is in there to relieve their stress.” Diluc says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Surely seeing you again while they’re at their most vulnerable state would put them in more distress,” Diluc continues.

“Well, I’m not going to let them avoid me any further.” Childe huffs. He turns around before walking upstairs to his room.

“Uh, the bathhouse is outside, not indoors,” Kazuha calls out after Childe.

“I know! I’m just going to change out of my clothes before joining them in the bathhouse.” Childe replies, looking over his shoulder at the men.

“Join them?” Dainsleif asks, his eyebrows shot to his hairline after hearing Childe’s response.

“This can’t be good,” Xiao mutters, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

“Should we follow him just in case?” Itto whispers, looking at the others with a questioning look on his face.

In the bathhouse, you dropped your robe onto the ground before getting into the nice warm hotspring. You can feel the tension leaving your body, making you sigh in relief as you sink into the water up to your chin. The water was nice and warm. You close your eyes and rest your head on the edge of the hotspring, feeling yourself slowly doze off. Just when you were about to fall asleep, you heard the bathhouse door open and footsteps approaching towards where you’re resting. 

“Wow! Feels nice in here!” Your eyelids flew open at the sound of Childe’s voice echoing in the bathhouse. Your eyes widen when Childe comes into your line of sight. His towel was hanging lowly around his waist; faint pink scars decorated his pale, muscular chest, and the ginger-colored hair from his belly button trails down to wherever it leads to. You feel your face turn bright red when Childe smiles down at you. There was a strange look in his eyes that you have a hard time deciphering.

“Mind if I join you snookums?” He asks, placing both of his hands on his waist as he gazes down at you curiously, his head tilted to the side.

“I was hoping to have some alone time, Childe.” You said, looking away from the ginger Harbinger with a faint frown on your face.

“Oh, come on! You’ve been avoiding me for two days now!” Childe lets out an exasperated sigh, throwing both of his hands in the air out of frustration. “What did I do to make you ignore me for two days in a row?” Childe demands, frowning at you.

“Nothing! I just want some alone time. After all, this is a bathhouse, and people are usually naked in bathhouses.” You muttered, pressing yourself against the wall of the hotspring.

“Stop lying to me, [Y/N]. I know when you’re lying.” Childe rolls his eyes, his towel dropping to the ground as he gets into the hotspring. 

You quickly looked away from Childe, feeling yourself becoming even more flustered as he got close to you. Childe stands in front of you, his arms caging you against the wall of the hotspring. He tilts his head to the side to make sure you are looking at him. Using his left hand, he gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up, his eyebrows furrowing with concern.

“What made you avoid me?” Childe asks softly.

“It’s nothing.” You muttered, looking anywhere else that isn’t Childe. Childe clicks his tongue with annoyance, his right hand lightly tapping your cheeks. You look back at Childe like a petulant child, the bottom of your lips jutting out slightly. Childe’s eyes fall onto your lips, then back at your eyes.

“Is it the dream you had about me?” Childe asks. You nod your head slowly in response. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asks; you didn’t know what else to say, really. It was a sexual dream about Childe himself, but Foul Legacy, and it wasn’t consensual at all. You know that Childe would never hurt you in that kind of way, but the dream made you feel uncomfortable. Not only because it was about rape, but it felt wrong because it was Childe, and you knew he wouldn’t dare to hurt you.

“The dream was about you, yes. But it was more about your…. Transformation.” You said slowly, unsure of how to explain your dream to Childe without feeling very awkward about it.

“Transformation? You mean my Foul Legacy transformation?” He asks, looking at you in confusion. You nod your head.

“Oh, archons, I didn’t injure you in your dreams, did I!?” He asks, looking at you like a kicked puppy.

Your eyes widen, “No! No! You didn’t hurt me at all! Well….” You trailed off, scratching the back of your head awkwardly. “It was a wet dream, okay? Only, the sexual part was not consensual at all.” You said, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“So, is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because you were afraid that I was going to rape you like how Foul Legacy did in your dreams?” He asks.

“No! That’s not the reason why I was avoiding you!” You exclaimed, your voice echoing throughout the bathhouse. “I felt bad about having an inappropriate dream about you when all I’ve been doing was hurt you.” You frowned, tears forming in your eyes. Childe cups your face in his hands, both of his thumbs wiping away the tears that made their way down your flushed cheeks. You cleared your throat and looked away from Childe; tears continued to cascade down your bright red cheeks. 

“You’re not hurting me. The only time that you’re hurting me is when you ignore me.” Childe says softly, pressing his forehead against yours. “Please don’t shut me out.” He whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face against his muscular chest, hearing his heart beating softly against his chest. You knew that Childe had a soft spot for you, but you didn’t think it would be to the point where he would be so vulnerable around you. The guilt of having an atrocious wet dream about Childe’s Foul Legacy form performing nonconsensual sexual acts on you horrified you because you knew that Childe would never commit these things against you.

“I’m not trying to shut you out, Childe. I feel really guilty for having a dream about you doing awful things.” You whisper, tightening your grip around him.

“Don’t feel guilty for having a dream you can’t control. No one can control their dreams, ever.” Childe says, pulling back from the hug, cupping your face in his hands. “Please, if you would allow me to do so, let me erase the awful dream from your mind,” Childe says softly, brushing the stray hair away from your face.

“How are you going to do that? Give me amnesia?” You look at him in confusion. Childe snorts and shakes his head. Childe lightly pinches your cheeks; the way he stares at you makes your heart throb painfully against your chest. Why must Childe look at you that way? Does he want you to fall in love with you or something?

“Can I kiss you?” Childe asks, leaning his face close to yours, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against yours.

“I don’t know, can you?” You teased, looking up at Childe with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“Listen here, you little shit…” Childe states, looking down at you with an exasperated look on his face. You let out a loud laugh at his comment before burying your face into his chest. Childe begins to snort before breaking out into soft laughter, his arms thrown over your shoulders.

“May I kiss you?” Childe asks.

He’s doing that thing again! Gazing you with that soft gaze of his, the tiny endearing smile that makes your heart race against your chest. You feel your face warm up at the sight of his smile. You swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding your head slowly.

“Yes, you may.” You whisper, your hands slowly grabbing onto Childe’s biceps.

Childe caresses your face in his right hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek lightly before slowly leaning down towards your face. Both you and Childe close your eyes before your lips meet in the middle. The kiss was soft and gentle; Childe held you in his arms as if you were fragile glass. The kiss gradually got heated between the two of you. Childe pins you against the wall, his lips slowly leaving yours as his lips trail down your neck. You let out a soft gasp, feeling his lips brushing the sensitive area on your neck. Shivers wracked through your body when he began to lick and suck on your neck lightly.

“C-Childe.” You whisper, your grip on his arm tightening.

“Fuck, baby. I need you so bad.” Childe breathes, his hands reaching up for your hair before tangling his fingers into your hair, lightly tugging on it. Your head was pulled back, a soft moan and whimper escaping from your lips as Childe began to mark it up by leaving gentle bites and sucking on the base of your neck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you felt Childe’s right knee push your legs apart, pinning your waist to the wall. His knees rub your most sensitive parts, making you gasp at the sensation. Your nails dug lightly into his biceps, and you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to hold in the sounds of your whines.

“Let me show you that I’m better than the Childe in your dreams, please, please, please.” He whimpers into your ears, his fingers tangling in your hair. You feel his cock hardening against your thighs as he lightly ruts up between your legs. You let out a gasp, feeling the head of his dick prod your entrance.

“Show me. Do it.” You whisper back. “Please, please, Childe.” You dug your nails into his back. Childe groans at the sound of your pleas before crashing his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers gripping onto his ginger locks, gently tugging onto them. Childe lets out a moan, rubbing his stiff cock between your legs.

“I’ll be gentle with you, I promise.” Childe coos, peppering kisses on your face as he grabs onto your right leg and lifts it up over his shoulders.

You yelped loudly and held onto Childe tightly, afraid of slipping and falling in the hotspring. Childe grabs onto your left leg, wrapping it around his slim waist before grabbing onto the base of his member, pumping it lightly in the palm of his hand. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good.” He grunts. Childe lightly taps the bulbous head of his cock against your hole, lightly rubbing it between your legs. You shivered with anticipation, waiting for Childe to insert his long cock into your entrance. Childe slowly enters your sopping wet hole, his jaws clenching tightly as he sinks slowly into your entrance.

“F-Fuck! Childeeee!” You whimpered. You closed your eyes and buried your face into his neck.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” Childe groans. His head fell onto your shoulders. Childe lightly bites down onto your shoulders, making you whimper and involuntarily clench around his cock. “You’re squeezing my cock so firmly. Archons, you feel so good.” Childe groans, continuing to sink further into your hole. You tried your best not to tense up, knowing that it would make it harder for Childe to slide into you smoothly and painlessly.

“Why are you so big?” You whimpered; your hands were shaking at the feeling of Childe’s cock breaching your walls. 

It felt so good, but it hurts. It hurts too good. You bit down on your bottom lip, feeling Childe come to a complete stop. You let out a gasp of breath when you felt the mushroom tip of his cock nudge the sensitive area deep inside of you. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as he tried his best not to lose his mind at the feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock very tightly. You whimpered at the overwhelming pleasure, feeling yourself shake in Childe’s arms. Childe buries his face further into your neck, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head from the immense pleasure he was feeling.

“I’m going to move now. Are you okay with that?” Childe asks, his lips pressing against your ears. His hot breath fanned against your skin, causing goosebumps to form on your body as you quivered in his arms.

“Y-Yes, please do.” You squeaked, burying your face into his collarbone as Childe pulled back his hips before lightly snapping his hips up against yours. A breathy gasp escaped from your mouth, your jaws dropping in the shape of the letter “o,” as your eyes closed in pleasure from the feeling of Childe’s cock leaving and entering your hole. Childe continues to thrust in and out of your entrance, his pace slowly picking up with each thrust. The sound of water slapping from where both you and Childe were connected resonated throughout the bathhouse. If you weren’t so deep into the pleasurable feeling, you would’ve been embarrassed at the sound and shied away from it. But instead, the breathy moans, whines, gasps, and yelps coming from you were gradually getting louder and louder each time Childe thrusts up into your most sensitive spot.

“I just want to breed this pretty little hole.” Childe grunts, pinning you up against the wall while continuously thrusting up into your sopping wet hole. 

“Do it, please breed me.” You whined, tightening your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Childe felt the last bits of sanity within him snap at the sound of your pleas. Childe grabs your face in his hands, pressing his lips against yours. You tangled your fingers into his hair; both your and Childe’s tongue intertwining against each other. Childe pulls away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. His dicks continue to plunge in and out of your entrance. 

“Archons, you drive me insane, baby.” Childe grunts, pressing his lips hard against yours. You yelped when the mushroom tip of his cock kissed your g-spot, causing you to see stars dance in your vision. “I’m going to breed this pretty little hole of yours.” Childe pants, the tip of his nose pressing against your cheek.

He grabs onto the back of your neck before pressing his lips against yours once more. Your hands automatically reach for Childe’s hair, lacing your fingers in his messy ginger locks. Childe’s thrusts become sloppy as he is nearing his end; the coil in your lower belly starts to tighten as Childe’s dick continues to hammer in and out of your entrance. The last thrust Childe sent snaps the tight coil in your lower stomach. 

Your vision suddenly turns white as your mouth drops, feeling yourself cumming around Childe’s member. Childe’s moan fills your ears, his hot cum spurting deep inside of you before overflowing out of your entrance and into the hotspring. Both you and Childe collapse against one another, breathing heavily. Childe slowly pulls his soft cock out of your warm entrance, groaning softly.

“That was….” You trailed off, gulping air as you tried to catch your breath.

“That’s the best sex I’ve ever had,” Childe says, wiping the thin layer of sweat from his forehead with a boyish grin on his face.

“Oh, you’ve had sex with someone else aside from me?” You ask, looking at Childe with your eyebrows raised.

“Hey, you had sex with Diluc and Zhongli yesterday,” Childe says, pinching your cheeks tightly. You whined and swatted at Childe’s hands; Childe snorts before stopping. You muttered under your breath and looked away from Childe, your arms over your chest.

“Great, looks like the hotspring will need to go through some deep cleaning after this.” You grumbled, scrunching your face in disgust.

“Yeah, no kidding! Way to sully the water, you two!” A voice interjects, startling both you and Childe. Itto walks into the bathhouse with a tiny frown on his face as he approaches where you and Childe are at; he squatted in between you and Childe, his face pinching up in disgust.

“Now that Childe had his fun, it’s my turn now!” Itto huffs, snatching you out of the water before walking away with you in his arms.

“What?! Hey!” Childe exclaims, watching you get snatched up by Itto. Childe groans and runs his hands through his hair with a sigh of frustration. He can never have alone time with you, he swears! Childe got out of the hotspring and wrapped the towel around his naked waist before following you and Itto out of the bathhouse, a couple of feet behind. Once Childe had left the bathhouse, he saw the other men standing there with their arms crossed over their chests. They look like they were about to scold him at any minute, and Childe is not ready to get an earful from the thirteen other men.

“Oh, so all of you are going to lecture me and not Itto for carrying [Y/N] out of the bathhouse while they’re butt ass naked?” Childe asks, crossing his arms over his bare chest with a huff of breath.

You shied yourself away from the eyes of the thirteen men when Itto walked out of the bathhouse. Your face was bright red when you made eye contact with some of them while wishing that Itto could have at least let you put on your robe before carrying you out of the bathhouse.

“Itto! If you’re going to snatch me up like that, at least get me my robe!” You whined, weakly punching his bare chest while covering your face with your left hand. Your face felt so hot; you could still feel the remnants of your and Childe’s cum mixing and leaking out of your sopping wet hole.

“Psh! Why need a robe when you’re going to be naked again in a moment?” Itto laughs boisterously, tossing you over his shoulders before slapping your ass. You yelped and winced in pain, gently rubbing the area where Itto had smacked you. Just when you thought you could relax after your and Childe’s intimate moment, Itto has other plans. 

Note: To be honest, I think this is a slight improvement of the Zhongli x Isekai'd!reader x Diluc smut. It's still cringey to me since this is my, what, third time posting a smut? I have officially graduated from college, but I'm still not done with college itself. I am on summer break now until September. Oh, from late June to early July, the posting schedule will be weird because my friend is coming to visit and we're going to anime expo together! I won't be able to post lengthy posts like this until after anime expo week. Please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for "Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader" and my overall taglist: [Didn't tag anyone for this post because I didn't want anyone to be uncomfortable. If you want to be tagged in this particular post, let me know by responding to this post]

Taglist Google Form is currently closed at the moment due to Tumblr having tagging limits on posts ;-; Masterlist [here]

[imminent-danger-came]

do you think mks cosmic backstory conflicts with the previous conflict of his insecurities of being the wrong successor?

Not at all!

When it comes down to it, MK's main flaw is his lack of belief in himself ("Just believe in yourself! Even a smidge makes all the difference")—that's him at his core. He's also identity issues the character ("I'm not the Monkey King okay!" "You're right—you're the Monkie Kid! You have to find your own way to win."), and I think s4 laid into this quite nicely.

Throughout seasons 1 and 2 MK was trying to live up to the legacy of "Monkey King". That's what 1x06 and 1x09 are motivated by—MK is trying to make himself stronger and more like Wukong ("I just wanted to be good enough—like you."). Really 2x05 just worsened a problem MK already had. He was already having doubts about being the Monkie Kid, and SWK leaving in 2x01 was a crack in an already unstable foundation. So then in 2x06 and 2x09 you have MK desperately trying to get stronger, to be a sort of Monkey King stand in ("Pretty soon, Monkey King won't even need to come back!"), and that all comes crashing down in 2x10. And, not only does MK fail, he loses the staff and his powers.

This takes us to 3x01, where MK IMMEDIATELY tries to be Wukong once again:

Sun Wukong: "Kid, why did ya-" MK: "Uh, well yeah, I was trying to do you in the omelet story! Do the weird impulsive Monkey King thing and escape the bad guy."

Sun Wukong: "Well, I mean- Ne Zha ain't really a bad guy but- did you forget about the part where I got really hurt?"

(3x01 On The Run) (Hi MK good guy v bad guy mentality)

-

MK doesn't refer to himself as the Monkie Kid again until after he's able to use gold vision in 3x03, listing off a few of his labels:

"But I, Monkie Kid, delivery boy, somewhat equal to heaven—saw right through your trick." (3x03 Smartie Kid; another label)

Which, MK and his labels are a big deal ("Hero"/"Warrior" in 2x07, Noodle Boy, Successor, the "Plan Man" in 4x12). It's specifically what the curse antagonizes MK with in s4:

Subodhi: “Who or what you are, even I do not know the answer—but of one thing, I am certain: fate has plans for you! Great plans, or foul? Time will tell.” MK: "I- I can't be! I'm just MK!" Subodhi: "The Monkie Kid?" MK: *Gasps*

-

Curse MK: "Tell me, what do you think we are, honestly, cause I have been DYING to hear us say it, out loud." MK: "What kind of a question is that? I'm just- I'm just MK, a noodle delivery guy with the powers of the Monkey King, no biggie."

-

Curse MK: "Seriously? You still think we're just some noodle delivery guy? You can't remember where you came from, and we got ALL this power, and you never once thought, why us? What are we, what is our purpose?" MK: "Of course I thought about it! I mean- maybe, I was gonna thought about it I just- I just want to be me. To be MK!" Curse MK: "Yeah well, we all know exactly where that leads, don't we." Lady Bone Demon Echo: "To pain."

-

Curse MK: "We're just like Wukong, a fraud! A trickster! Why would our legacy be any different?"

-

MK: "No, no you're wrong I'm- I'm not!" Curse MK: "Not what, some Monkey Demon thing destined to bring chaos upon the world? Come on, use your words big brained boy, say it, what are we?"

-

Curse MK: "You can see it, can't you? This is your fate. Your friends will turn on you, seeing you for the monster you will become! They will destroy you, harbinger of chaos."

-

There's all of these different things MK is either trying to be or trying to not be, which all plays back into his identity. It also all plays back to one thing: his lack of belief in himself.

He's either not enough like Wukong or too much like his mentor. He's either not strong enough or too strong, destined to cause nothing but chaos and destruction. He's either not going to be able to protect the people he cares about, or he's going to be the very thing that hurts them. It's the same problem, just on different sides of the spectrum.

The 3x14 "Do you still really think the universe wants anything, from any of us?" to 4x08 "Until I know what I am, what my destiny is? I can't risk hurting the people I care about—the one's I have left" pipeline is both wild and important to note. It's the switch from MK believing he's nothing special, to believing he's the very "harbinger of chaos". It's all about his self-perception.

And honestly, when it comes down to it, he probably still believes he's the wrong successor, just for very different reasons now. You and I both know that there was no other choice for a protégé—who else would have been able to wield the Monkey King's staff and have his powers—but I doubt MK is in a place to come to terms with that. I think that realization is going to be part of his downward spiral next season, along with being one of the things that instigates the SWK V MK fight.

It's very on point that the way MK comforts Wukong at the end of 4x11 is through reaffirming his role as the "Monkey King":

MK: "Monkey King- I'm not ready to not have a mentor. Azure needs to be stopped but- we need you. I need you- to be the Monkey King."

(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

-

While the way he antagonizes Azure is to threaten his role as a Hero (also referencing his role as an Uncle, and before that his role as a friend):

MK: "Come on! Come on! Come on Unkie Lion, you're the big hero right? Then prove it. Show me!"

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

-

*Gestures financially* IDENTITY

Bonus "What I am" parallels post because it's pretty relevant I feellmk

[megatrxnic]

What The Hexx?? P1: Raziel

•Series TItle: What The Hexx??

•Prompt: “Bathroom door is accidentally locked from the inside. How would everyone react desperately trying to get it open?” 

•Fandom: Legacy of Kain

•Rating: G- General; No real warnings here. It’s a calm and humorous prompt that I wanted to keep pretty chill and wholesome. 

•Small Author’s Note[s]: I was determined to fit them all on here, in order of raise [1-6], accordingly, but I’ll have to post them on different parts with different posts to a series. These are too long for one post. Ehehehhh. I only see it fit that they all have a fair go at this random and oddly annoying hindrance. [No Vampires were harmed in the making of this little skit, I assure y’all!]. Plus a lil’ bonus for a few other beloved vampires!~

 •Premise: -It wasn’t something that happened all too often, so when some foul, scorned individual comes around to hex the door to the bathroom, it’s gonna be a hectic and unfortunate day-unless there are those who know their way around a lock-spell. Footsteps were a lucky and rather insightful rekindling of previously waning hope. You called to whomever was passing by the hindrance of a door. Your chords were aching after a stressful moment of back-to-back pleas. After a deep and annoyed sigh, you took your irritable frustration and rammed headlong into the door with your shoulder taking the brunt of the force. Feeling even more disgruntled and twice sore, you heard a cordial clearing of a familiar, muffled voice.

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

 •[Lieutenant] Raziel: -As a casual, adventuristic and roving type, Raziel was always amused by some means of crazy that seemingly occurred with such spontaneity surrounding your presence. He stopped with abrupt surprise, a gentle and mischievous smirk formed upon his blackened lips. The tips of his fangs exposed themselves when his antics were soon to follow, “It seems you are in need of assistance, Y/N? Lucky you that I am present and willing to assist you in this befuddling predicament,” Raziel examined the locked door, tracing a talon around the keyhole and doorknob, as if he were having a deeply invested conversation with it. He raised a curious, furrowed brow before standing upright again; his eyes narrowed in subtle confused frustration, “I haven’t a clue why it won’t budge. Operator error, maybe?” He crossed his arms and pressed against the wall, resting his shoulder and lending an ear for an expected, flustered remark from you, which he received with an amused and gratified smirk.

 “Typical of you, Raziel. Find someone who does know what could be wrong with it, then!” You shrugged, gestured outward with your arms, and then crossed them with immediate fluster. He wanted this reaction, and it was well received, as Raziel chuckled with humble amusement in response. 

“I’ll see to it that someone else comes to assist. I won’t let you be trapped, rest assured, dear Y/N. Have I ever left you wanting?” With that, his footsteps seemingly muffled, continued to lessen in volume as he scuffled onto his merry way.

[P2, Turel; coming soon]

[the-final-dance-of-justice]

Columbina Headcanons (ft. Tartaglia)

- Columbina has a bunch of birds, that she fondly named after each of the Harbingers. Only Tartaglia knows of this fact, and he sits with her and the birds once or twice every couple of weeks that he can. - From one of his outside ventures, Tartaglia brought back a bird that he had aptly named Columbina, then gifted it to the respective Harbinger, grinning.   ^ I think Columbina would either be a Starling, Bohemian Waxwing, or Ward's Trogon. If you really wanna be ironic, doves could work too, I guess.

- Anyway, thinking that Columbina was shocked when Tartaglia gave her (bird). After all, no one had ever given her a bird before - it was always technically the other way around, with her finding a bird and ‘gifting’ it the name of a Harbinger. Any Harbinger, except for herself.

- Tagging on another HC, each Harbinger has the same number of birds as they do names. So Tartaglia gets 3, most of the Harbingers(for now) get 2(one for the names, another for their titles), Scaramouche gets 4(?), and I believe Signora also gets (3).

- Once Columbina discovered that Foul Legacy was a thing, she found a fourth bird and gave it the name Legacy.   ^ HC that none of the Harbingers immediately know about FL. I don’t entirely remember Tartaglia’s character story, but I’d like to think that either (1) Harbingers find out about FL through combat witnessing/witnesses, or (2) Harbingers don’t find out about FL at all. Maybe it’s a closely guarded secret, to be treated at some semblance of normalcy (or, as normal as ‘kid who fell into the Abyss and quickly became a Harbinger’ can have).

[rottendollface]

Delirium.

Character: Childe Tartaglia | Ajax.

Warnings: NSFW, CNC, dark, unprotected sex, sacrilegious, breeding kink, gaslighting, yandere behaviour, murdering, violence, forced soulmates, female reader with Dendro Vision, all the characters are adults, 18+.

Summary: You and Ajax — two kids, who survived the Abyss because of Skirk’ proper care. But everything has it’s price: your different fates were broken and morphed into one.

Word count: ~6076.

• You had learned once and for all: girls shouldn’t walk alone in the forest at night. Full moon, nightbird’s screamings and whispers of the woods — such a scary atmosphere for a teenage girl. You couldn’t see properly, but curiosity made you go deeper into the forest. You didn’t hesitate even for a moment — your brain was excited to find a house of witch. You heard in the village that she had kidnapped and ate two little kids, so you, brave and maybe crazy too, started your journey. You were dying to prove an existence of dark powers — maybe she made some scary ritual! One wrong turn, sticking tree root — you fell into the hole and your thirst for adventures disappeared.

• A mysterious woman found you immediately. She wasn’t alone: a boy with curly ginger hair and funny freckles on his face had followed her. In his deep blue eyes you saw fear and grief.

You got along very well, as friends by misfortune. His name was Ajax — you could never forget this cursed name. Skirk encouraged your friendship and trained you together; at first you were sharing the same room to know each other better. Just in one month you and Ajax became older mentally and physically. His figure got manly, muscles grew up on his skillful hands and veins bulged out through his skin; but you became more feminine: hips rounded, your appearance seemed more fragile and delicate. You didn’t understand what was going on with you, why you couldn’t gain so much power and defeat Ajax even in arm wrestling, but Skirk happily explained it to you: you weren’t a fighter, like Ajax, because it wasn’t your destiny. You were created to help him — a perfect catalyst and stabilizer for his power. At first you even liked that role: it was funny to work together, your powers prevented him from heavy injuries. When you two became good friends, Skirk separated you from him, gave you other room and new time for trainings. You weren’t doing physical exercises anymore — she replaced it with theory. At first you couldn’t understand what she was trying to teach you: she was talking about sins, some lessons after she explained to you the phenomenon of lust and forbidden love. Skirk induced you: only love could make you happy, and pregnancy — the necessary evidence of love. You and Ajax were perfect humans, the Abyss made you stronger, smarter, more beautiful even, you two needed to be together. You complete Ajax, your power was the perfect addition to his. Still you were the opposites: he was a cruel hunter who wanted nothing but blood on his hands, you were a gracious and fair little protector. You didn’t have a Foul Legacy, still you were strong enough without it: you used magic, that wasn’t similar to power of Vision, knew how to summon creatures by using magical signs. Skirk was happy, fervent even: everything went like she wanted. The King of Demons and the Pure Enchantress, the hunter and his prey.

• Skirk’s teaching became more agressive: she convinced you that your only role was being a mother and supportive power to your lord. She praised you in her heresy, even frightened you with forlorned and unhappy future — a worthy end for someone, who abandoned their mission; disease and misfortunes would be your only friends, no one would ever talk to you, because everyone would know your sins; ashamed and ugly as beast, you would beg for death, but no one would help you. Skirk reproved you for everything, made laugh of your beauty, destroying your self-esteem. You became quiet, tried to take less space, so no one would notice you. Ajax cheered you up, wondered what had happened to you. His attention was pleasurable to you, still you felt like you didn’t deserve it. You felt strange in his presence, your cheeks flushed and skin burnt from his touches.

• But you betrayed him driven by your wish of freedom. You didn’t follow him when it was time to return home. You waited for Ajax to get distracted, then took the wrong turn. It was dangerous, the uncontrollable fear took you immediately: with heart beating heavily and blood freezing in your veins, you made yourself go through endless dimly corridors. You got lost. Turn by turn, stair by stair, you went deeper into the heart of Abyss, your mind was perceiving every sound as a threat. Exhausted from using magic, you just fell on your knees, hope left your jaded heart. But then you saw a small light: the corridor rebuilt again, sounds of people and sunlight filled the dark. You crawled to the sun, to the warm breeze of unknown wind that fondled your skin. Suddenly you found yourself on the grass, light hurted your eyes. You were saved.

• You had started your journey from small village in Fontaine, that were situated far away from your actual home. You didn’t want to return to your family and put their peaceful existence in jeopardy. You were on your own now. You visited libraries, read all the scientifical dissertations, but didn’t find something useful. You tried to understand the nature of your magic, wanted to gain more power and control. Years of trying to find something, even a little piece of information, were worthless. You tried to recall books from Abyss, even restored manuscripts that Skirk had showed to you, and thats were all you had.

At the same time your heart cried for Ajax, all of your feelings begged to see him again. You needed him, craved for his touch; year by year you got more impatient, whined for him like a bitch in heat. Did Skirk put you under a dirty spell? Everything was wrong with you: you couldn’t concentrate on work, your cunt ached from a simple friction and needed more. Your thoughts tangled, didn’t want to think about your worries. You tried to replace him with other men, but you were disgusted by them, your mind and body didn’t let you to interact with them in a romantic way.

• One day you suddenly met him. You couldn’t understand why all your feelings were alarmed and your lower belly tensed in viscous pleasure during the day. Then you saw him: dressed in dark military uniform, the Fatui’s mask shined pridefully in his ginger hair. Sun-kissed skin, funny freckles and cold blue eyes, that lost their shine — familiar feelings covered your heart. He had seen you too, the chemistry reaction between you both gave an immediate result. Your mind went dizzy, you couldn’t remember what had happened after. All you remembered was you on your knees, and Ajax roughly pulling you down on his dick from behind in some dark room. You thought your pussy would rip apart: he was too big, too rough for your first time, but every pain from him transformed into pure pleasure, made you beg for more. Drool on your chin, hips shaking from another orgasm he drove you through — you moaned and screamed, encouraging Ajax to take you harder. Lust embraced your mind; your wet walls, stained with his seed and your cream, were clenching around his dick, milking him again and again, until his cum couldn’t fit your abused pussy and started leaking down his dick. When he finally stopped, you were too exhausted even to breath, you fell asleep instantly. You woke up next morning, pressed to his body, as Ajax hugged you like a plush toy. His strong hands wrapped around your soft body, his nose buried into your hair, sticky cum mixed with droplets of blood still dripping out your hole. Your body was sore, neck and hips hurt from all the hickeys he had marked you with. You carefully shifted, got out of the bed. You put your clothes and left the room, then run away as fast as you could in your state. Thanks to your long dress and tights no one could see the amont of his seed on your hips. All of it was disgusting and mad — you didn’t want to be a part of this farce. Skirk had definitely cast a spell on you and Ajax to help her breeding ideas come true. You felt pity for Ajax: probably his feelings to you were conditioned by magic. You wanted to explain him everything, clear his mind and set him free from this torture, but your safety was on top. You got a chance to escape, and you used it without any guilt. Rumors about secret library under Favonius Cathedral made you visit a Mondstadt. With a good legend of your past, you started to work in Favonius Orphanage, slowly made your way to the ruling elite, hoping, that you would never see him again.

• You got your Dendro Vision accidentally, didn’t saw much benefit from it at first, then started mixing it with your magic. You were safe in Mondstadt. Different name, new type of behavior, even your nun’s costume made you look a little different: it would be hard to recognize you with black veil and white undercover on your head.

You worked hard and deserved the best reputation — you knew much more than teachers in orphanage, so you were tutoring the most talanted kids. You even started writing your own research related to powers of Vision and it’s influence on physiological processes in human body. This fact opened the doors of secret Favonius library to you. The elite deemed you as worthy to read the forbidden manuscripts and books.

But you started to loose yourself. The same face, the same fate, the same real story and name — but not yours. Who was the woman you saw in a mirror? You were close to death so many times you couldn’t count. Maybe you were killed by treasure hoarders, or fell under the ice and drowned in a lake last winter? Everything was so fake, it made you sick — too religious sisters, who treated non-believers with disdain, haggard kids with no will for life who secretly hated their Archons, and you — a filthy whore, who swore on the Saint Book that she was pure. Still they needed to prove your purity and your willingness to serve the Barbatos with your body and soul. You didn’t know what to do — it was obvious that you were fucked by a man. Of course you could say that it was anatomical peculiarities of your body, but your hole wasn’t so tight and small anymore — everyone could understand this. You had stuffed your cunt with fingers only to feel something similar to Ajax’ dick again, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing could replace him.

You came up with crazy idea and it saved your life. You used a mixture from medical flowers to narrow your insides. It was painful at first, but you got what you wanted — all the books from underground Favonius library were yours. At first you were confused, then you were shocked and frighetened. Historical books about black magic, tortures (with detailed engravings!), summoning rituals and eugenics were the minority of genres and knowledges that Library contained inside it damp walls. You remembered everything you had read and copied texts in your room. You had had a bag with manuscripts that you wrote by hand. Thanks to your magic you made an ointment that covered ink and made all the pages clear, so your texts were save. You created a big book of spells, potions, rituals, symbols and even flora that were used in black magic. Something from this you could use with your Abyssal powers, still you didn’t want to interact with this horrific heresy.

You were learning a new spell, when wind turned the pages of another damned book. You cursed, but then saw a title: “Black wedding”. Article was an instruction on how to morph two destinies into one. Agreement from both sides wasn’t necessary. The victims of ritual couldn’t break the spell and were doomed to live the rest of their lives together. Description of aftermath was similar to everything that had ever happened to you. Your heart painfully stopped for a moment, as you realised — it all was about you and Ajax. Everything you could do in this situation was only to accept your fate. You were so lonely and desperate. You needed a home full of happiness and people that you loved. You wanted to build a big house, so your darlings and people in need could have a shelter. You wanted to be more, than a regular sister with fake name and broken destiny. You didn’t want to live all your life as a fugitive. Despair tormented your heart, wounded it with realization — anxious thoughts swarmed inside like worms, devoured you with panic and fear.

• As usual, you sitted on liturgy with kids from orphanage — most of the nuns lived and worked in separate building, thats why you didn’t saw them much. You lived with other nuns and not with your kids, because you were the youngest woman (compare to their age, you were a girl even) in collective. They watched you, still didn't believe that you had never had a copulation with someone. A boy started crying, you heard his sighs.

‘What happened, sweetie?’ you whispered, sat on your knees to look in his puffy eyes with big clear tears in the corners. 'Tell me, it’s okay.’

'I miss my mommy!’ he told you between breathes. 'I want to go home!’

'Oh, dear,’ you hugged him, felt how his little hands clinged to you black dress and his face buried to your shoulder. 'I understand your pain, I lost my parents too. One day your heart will heal,’ you lied to him shamelessly, 'Please let us help you. You need to accept this. There is no other way.’

How smart. You told him to obey his fate, but what about you? Why didn’t you obey your fate?

Boy didn’t stop crying, so you took him to the garden to let him live this emotions without curious sights of others. He felt better after crying. Poor baby… You felt so bad and guilty from your endless lie and deceitful promises.

At night, before going to bed, you were staying on your knees and prayed to Barbatos, trying to find a fragile calmness for your damaged mind. Dressed in white nightgown, with your hair down, you tried not to cry. You were a nonentity. All your life and efforts were pointless in the end. Skirk was right.

Skirk was right.

You wanted to cut off all your troubles. You regretted everything you had done in your life. If only… if only you could stop yourself from seeking for a witch at one night.

Phantom lust curled in your lower belly, salacity burnt your insides. The statuette of Barbatos fell down and crashed with piercing sound. You jumped, panic and fear rose in your chest, blood froze in your veins.

'No! No, no, no, no!’ Your scream echoed in cold empty corridors. You run to your room, all the light from candles went off.

'Barbatos has left you,’ you heard whispers in your head, goosebumps covered your skin, 'I’m here.’

You bursted into your room only to take the bag, and run away again. In consuming dark you searched the way to save your soul. Again you felt like your younger self who tried to escape from Abyss. Door by door, corridor by corridor — suddenly you stopped and kept your ears open. Silence. Thundering silence hit your ears. You opened a door to the nun’s room and didn’t find her there. Carefully, you started searching for others to warn them and tell them to go away.

You entered a canteen, and let out a loud cry. Tears streamed down your face immediately because of strong smell of blood and bodies.

Everyone were dead.

In night light you could see their open throats glistened with blood and insides. You felt madness covering your mind slowly. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. This was your punishment. Their blood — on your hands.

Orphanage… No way he killed kids and their nannies.

'How bad you think of me.’

You felt something hit your back. The water soaked your clothes, and trefoil mark appeared on your chest, glowing brightly in the dark.

Roots with sharp thorns broke out stone floor, protecting you. Venomous flowers bloomed, intoxicating the room with their odor, and poison leaked on the floor, cutting off every possible way to you. You didn’t wait for him to appear and made his next step. You bit your fingers, damaged skin so hard, so blood appeared. You quickly drew a circle with star and runes to summon the abyssal hound.

Ajax showed in Foul Legacy — the only sight of him and his aura made your body tremble. The hound run on him, protecting you as it’s mistress, but disappeared, as you suddenly felt all your power leaving your body. Unable to stay, you fell on your knees. He was playing dirty — so you did as well. You decided to wither him: without your passive protection Ajax won't last for long in Foul Legacy. You concentrated on your mind, forced yourself to chop off the outflow of your energy to him. You were a container with healing and protective filling, and Ajax could take from you everything he needed without your consent.

Yes. Finally you had found a right defenition of yourself — a container.

Ajax solved the problem simply: the floor broke under you. You couldn't even react right at the moment: everything was too fast for your understanding, only blast of his energy and rumble of broken stones. You were staying above the secret library, and your falling promised to be long and painful. You lost control on your thoughts — he won. Again Ajax outplayed you, like you were a stupid child. Again you weren't enough: not enough power, not enough speed, not enough acumen. He didn't even use all of his power, just caught you in a trap and captured you.

Your brain had betrayed you first: the only thought in your head was simple scream for help. You reached a hand, trying to catch something and prevent yourself from falling, but your fingers got nothing; fear and despair in your rounded eyes from all the endless horror you had felt in this moment were enough to satisfy Ajax. He caught you, cold armour met your hot skin. The wind blew on your face, suddenly you felt chilly dirt and bristly grass under your body.

Again heat covered your mind, drove out every other emotion and thought. Ajax was beautiful in his royal state: muscular male body with strong hands and legs, that could crush you with one touch or step. Your life depended on his will. Your horrified expression changed on lustful: eyes slarkled with impatience, mouth slightly opened ready to work for your master's pleasure. Ajax ripped off your nightgown, only belt of your bag left on your body, separated your breasts with band of black leather. Ajax was mad at you, still he cupped your cheek, patted your face with tenderness. You leaned to his touch, wanted to save this feeling on your skin for ever.

This time he didn't prepare you. You were aroused already, your wetness streamed down to your ass, and clit pulsated, crying for stimulation. You even forgot about your manipulations with "virginity", and it was too late to warn him. Ajax thrusted inside cruelly, let out a deep groan from sudden pleasure. Your walls clenched around him tightly, enfolded every curve and vein on his dick. You arched your back, bit your lip not to scream from pain — but spell on your mind tried so hard to cover it with pleasure, left you confused.

'So fucking tight again,' he groaned. Ajax didn't move, waited for you to adjust to his size. As much as he wanted to pay you back for all the pain you had brought to him, he wanted you safe and sound. You grabbed his hand, clinged your fingers into sharp armour.

When Ajax felt that your lower muscles relaxed, he started pounding into you, pressed one of your legs to his waist, claws on his fingers dove into softness of your thigh. Again his cock was kissing your gummy walls. Every heated breath you made between moans marvelled him, your bouncing breasts and the way you shyly tried to cover your mouth to muffle all the vulgar sounds that came out of your lips — it all looked like a magic ritual, beautiful maiden were fucking with a devil to help her wishes came true.

Ajax lifted his mask, leaned to your shoulder to bite it with his sharp teeth. He admired the red trace of his teeth on your skin, you were made to wear his hickeys. He kissed the contour of your lips, enjoyed every scream from your mouth when he hit the right spot inside. You tried to be as quiet as possible not to draw attention from alive orphanage workers.

'They were right about you, angel,' Ajax traced the outline of your jaw with his wet tongue, 'You are such a fucking whore. Do you want them to see how you enjoying my cock? Do you want them to watch how I'm ruining their pure sister?'

Your pussy tightened from his words, and you shook your head, afraid that someone was watching you. You didn't want to be caught, the process between you two was intimate.

'You played the role of innocent girl very well. I bet it was hard for you to lie about your purity, and then rub your cunt with fingers, dreaming about my cock,' Ajax chuckled at all the lovely sounds that escaped your throat. Still so shy, even with your pussy ripping apart around his length and your wetness slurping every time he thrusted into your plush body.

'Don't stop!' You cried, felt your orgasm started to build up. He placed a thumb on your clit, rubbed your sensitive bulge to make you cum faster. Sight of you creaming on his cock pleased his ego, Ajax took one of your awaiting nipples into his mouth, sucked on it gently, prolonging sweet torture of your orgasm. Your pussy sucked him deeper, caressed his cock to feel the sensation of his seed staining sensitive walls. He came right after, filling you to the brim. Ajax placed a kiss on your lips, and you fell unconscious.

• You awakened in spacious and bright room, sunlight beamed on your sleepy face. You jumped, rushed to your bag, but simply fell on the floor, as you body was exhausted and couldn't bare it's own weight. You whined out from pain in your knees and elbows, but you started to crawl to your bag. You rose up and opened the bag with shaking hands, let out a sigh of relief. Everything was here.

You were alone, but noticed Ajax' stuff and immediately felt better. The unknown landscape confused you: you didn't recognize this lands. You were clean, dressed in unknown sleepwear. Your head wasn't damaged, your brain worked as good as usually. Your legs took all the troubles — you couldn't walk properly, but needed to get in a bathroom. You created a lianas to help yourself. When you returned to the bed, you groaned with pleasure.

You were wondering about Ajax' location, when the door opened and he entered the room. You lifted on your elbows to see him, smiled apologetically — should you greet him? Was simple 'Hello' okay in this situation? And why you felt guilty, when he was the one, who killed innocent people and sexually abused you again?

'How do you feel, angel? Should I call a doctor?' Ajax was worrying, quickly made his way to you to check on your body. 'I'm terribly sorry, you lost too much energy and slept for three days straight, I will make up for this, just forgive me!'

'it's okay,' You were taken aback with his behavior. Of course it wasn't okay — but you were shocked and afraid to start an argument. You were on his territory, so you decided to play by his rules.

'You know, all this years I tried to find you and when I finally saw you I just went impatient. You know how a man gets when he wants to take a woman,' Ajax hugged you, nuzzled his face in crook of your neck, 'Every time with you I was vulgar, please forget about this. I promise I will be a different man.’

'But how?..' You tried to stay calm.

'I can smell you. I can feel you. I don’t know if it’s related to our origin…’

'Yes, it is,’ you interrupted him, a bitter desolation ached in your heart.

'Just tell me why you had left me. I will forgive your betrayal, if you explain it to me. You may think that I'm a bad person, but I'm fair.’

'I was scared. Everything was against my will. Skirk did something to make me lose my mind around you, and I just… I just can’t handle it.’ You were stuttering. Ajax nodded.

'Skirk had told me that you are too wayward. Well, this is the end of your lonesome journey. Did you enjoy being a stray dog? Sleep in grass, starve for days and ask for a roof? I don’t blame you. I’m just summing up the life you chose yourself. You could have anything, but preffered humiliation and loneliness. Finally I took you home, little lamb.’

He insulted you with a tender loving voice, looked at you with worry and pity in his eyes.

'I don’t regret my decision. Don’t try to vilify my experience!’ You felt uncontrollable anger and clenched your fists not to punch him. Why he had started to attack you with his words? Did he make it on purpose? Maybe he just didn't know how to talk with normal people?

'You looked so beautiful with this little boy,’ Childe smiled, changed the topic. 'We will adopt two or three kids, maybe I will invest and open an orphanage. Every kid deserved a better life. But at first I will breed you, of course. It seems, our first time wasn’t successful. Am I right? Tell me you weren’t pregnant with my kid when you left me.’

His eyes darkened and muscles tensed — you felt his aura became heavy and ominous.

'I wasn’t pregnant.’

'Still, it was quite unpleasant surprise that you walked away so simply. Should I break your legs or chain you to a bed this time?’

'Ajax, please…’ chill went down your spine.

'There is no fucking “please” for you. I did too much for you, and it’s time for you to do something for me.’ Then he smiled, caressed your cheek with calloused fingers. Sensation of your velvet skin and confusion in your doe-like eyes were like a bless to him. 'Wanna take a bath or eat ar first, angel?'

'Don't know, maybe eat at first. Where are we staying?'

'Wangshu Inn,' Ajax kissed your forehead. 'I'll get a menu for you, wait a little, angel.'

'Wangshu? At Liyue?' Your eyes rounded. How did he get there in such a short period of time?

'Yeah, I have some work here, don't think about it too much,' he got out of bed and gave you the bag. 'I don't know what's inside, but I suppose it's something meaningful to you.'

'Yes, thank you for saving it. I will show you when you return.' You tried your best to act normally and even friendly. It was the best solution for this situation in your mind.

• Ajax had hated the thought of you with other men or women. Even in his teenage years and the time he had spent with you in Abyss he couldn’t imagine you with someone else. He didn’t ask Skirk about something great: Ajax just made a wish to spend his entire life with you. He loved you. Maybe his affection wasn’t healthy, maybe it turned into obsession, but he didn’t care. He was sure that you felt the same way. He wanted you to be happy with him. Skirk made his dream come true, but warned him: sooner or later you would leave him. And you left — left him with broken heart and tears on his eyes. He thought about you every day, searched for your everywhere, blaming himself for losing you.

• Again you slipped out his fingers like a sand, made Ajax' heart obdurate in anger. When he finally got you, he was beyond happy. It was the first night he slept in peace, without nightmares tearing his mind apart. When he woke up, he was confused, tried to find you, tossed about the motel like a lost puppy. Your disappearance broke him, you left him with nothing but the memories of you and your scent on his skin. His black Fatui uniform wasn't meaning pride anymore, it meant grief he had in his stricken heart. You trampled his feelings with dirty shoes, but Ajax was ready to forgive you. You were his moon at night, the brightest star in the dark Sky. You lighted his way, and he was ready to hunt you forever only to touch you again, to feel your warmness against his cold skin.

• This time he wouldn't make the same mistakes. Skirk promised him that you two would spent the rest of your lives together, and he believes his teacher. At first he wanted you as a friend, but now he is a man. His views on life changed, he wanted to be a father, continue the family tradition and made his family bigger then before. You were perfect for him — Ajax would gladly made you a mother of his kids. The fact that women can bear a children was a true miracle for him. The role of mother was sacred to him, Ajax respected every woman with a child. He was ready to become a father, his desire to protect and work for his family needs grew bigger with you. The sound of small legs running around wooden floor of his house would make him the happiest man in the Teyvat.

He was glad, that he couldn’t impregnate you on your first time with him. Ajax wouldn't forgive himself if he skipped the infancy of his kids accidentally — mother and child were the most assailable during this period. He couldn’t leave all the hard work with baby sitting on you, and the amount of money that young parents need to spend on their child was to big for you to bear. Now there were no need for Ajax to worry: you were under his control. He would feed you with the best food, made sure you would got enough sleep and took control over your health and menstruation cycle. You needed to rest properly and recover from injuries before getting pregnant. He didn't want to hurt you, but your behaviour made him do this. You didn't respect him, so he violated your personal boundaries to show you the aftermath.

• Ajax treated you like a saint: when you finally understood, that he wasn't your enemy, he immediately opened his gentle and caring side for you. You were free to walk around Liyue, sometimes he took you on dinner with Zhongli and traveler. You were interested in his new friends — you even dared to spend the most part of your days with them. Of course you convinced Ajax that it was just a necessity, you didn't want him to be jealous! No way you would test his patience again. Your legs were able to walk again, and he stopped mocking you for your stray dog past. You had nightmares about things that had happened in orphanage, so you just wanted to lost in his love and attention. You tried to love him back, but it was difficult: you weren't disgusted by Ajax, you were attracted to him even, but something in him couldn't let you relax. It wasn't love you had read about, it was a barbarian, uglified parody. Maybe it was something you had truly deserved. A good man with twisted mind and exemplary family — such an irony. You were the one, who felt like a fatuus. That's all was so unreal, like you looked through the looking-glass.

• Ajax was tender with you. Sex with him became a true love-making: he basked you in his praise and kisses, thrusted inside in slow pace, enjoying every second of being inside your wet pussy. Your pleasure was on top, Ajax made sure to prepare you before penetration: his fingers rubbed your clothed cunt, worked on your puffy clit, while he was murmuring sweet nothings. He loved when you grabbed his hand in your orgasm, your lower muscles trapped his fingers inside and sucked them deeper to hit that special spot. Your sweet moans and pleas for more were his reward; the only sight of your pussy dripping with your natural lube, heavy movements of your chest, and your mouth opened slightly to catch a breath were a masterpiece of art to him. The teary shine in your eyes, flush on your cheeks and your rosy nipples were seductive, no one could resist the urge to take a woman like you. Worked up and ready for breeding, you were the epitome of perfection.

• You didn't stop your research, found more interesting information about "Black Wedding". Broken constellations lost their ability to predict the future of it's owner. Morphed constellation only meant to bring people together and made their relationships better, but other life choices could have a different aftermath. A simple negligence could cause the death, or injuries that weren't originally written in destiny of a victim. You decided to stay by Ajax' side at any price — you didn't want to die this young. You had enough power to protect yourself, but you stopped practicing magic, and relied on him too often now. You became weak and defenseless. Ajax had spoiled you with his overprotection.

You were going home late at night after visiting Liyue's library, when a man appeared on your road, blocking your way. You took a step back, then saw others. You quickly realised — you wouldn't come home tonight. You didn't know who it was, but you knew — it was the end. Your fists weren't ready for a fight, and you didn't want to win. It took one hit to your head with something made from metall for you to lose consciousness. You couldn't understand what had happened next — your vision went blurry, and your mind stopped all the processes. The last thing you remembered was the feeling of grass on your skin and view of unknown earth, that wasn't similar to the one your hometown had had.

• You were woken up with your own shriek. Tears streamed down your face, you couldn't take control over them. You were afraid that Ajax could hear your cry, but you simply weren't able to control your emotions. This nightmare was too realistic, you wanted to get rid of all the dirt that stained your mind. How terrible! You started to pray to the Archons to save you from this horrific future. Teacher Skirk was right! Blessed Archons showed you this nightmare to make you understand what would wait for you if you kept acting like a brat.

Skirk wanted you to be happy and live long life, full of love and appreciation. She wasn't evil, she was an angel: Skirk opened your eyes, treated you like you were her daughter. Yes, she was strict, didn't afraid to punish you for mistakes, but she did it to help you become the best version of yourself. You had a potential of strong warrior, but you didn't need this. You were a woman at first place, the symbol of peace and balance. Your presence by Ajax side meant to mitigate all the pain and atrocity he had carried with him.

Ajax knocked at your door, then showed in your room. His worried expression made your heart ache. How could you insult him this bad? No way you would leave his side!

'Is everything okay? I heard a scream, and decided to check on you,' he was blushing, and rubbed his neck, avoiding looking in your eyes.

'I had a nightmare, I'm okay now.' You covered your legs with blanket.

'We are save here, you know. I can stay with you if you want. We've got not so much time to sleep. It's almost time to leave.'

You accepted his offer. Ajax climbed to your bed, snuggled to your back with his. It was much warmer to sleep like this, and you calmed down quickly.

Wandering through the endless corridors of Abyss, you held Ajax' hand tightly, afraid to let him go, as you didn't want to let this nightmare become true.

[big-brainrot-hours]

Wait, who are the characters that will recognize reader? So we already know it's Xiao, the Fatui. But will the others like Albedo, Kaeya, Dainsleif, Kazuha or such recognize reader? I think Kazuha would've notice because not obly the wind tells him, but he has a good sense of smell. Which he might ba able to know or rather smell that the reader is the actual creator.

Okay so these are who I have at the moment, so if anyone wants clarification on any of these or wants to know about a specific character then let me know lol

Characters under the cut

Xiao, as we all know 😌

The fatui don't recognize them immediately, but thanks to Childe's Foul Legacy they realize who the creator is very quickly

Okay so, I know I said the Fatui don't recognize them immediately but Scaramouche does. His reason for being able to recognize them is different from the others tho lol

Albedo, Kaeya, Dain, and all the Khaenri'ah folks will be able to recognize them

Kazuha would not know immediately, but he's not one to jump to conclusions. He would be able to sense how nature changes around them and would be able to piece it together over time

All the enemies in the game including the weekly bosses will recognize them ofc

Fischl does. And by that I mean Oz does and tells her and she quickly realizes that even though it's not obvious, you definitely have an otherworldly aura

Benny doesn't but he's still nice to you. Everyone keeps saying you're impersonating the creator and he's like ????? They've been actively denying being the creator what are yall talking about?? He thinks you looking like the creator is just you being unlucky like him and he lets you join his adventure team when you come across eachother

RAZOR. MY BOY. MY FIRST BOY. I was a razor main my entire genshin experience until I got xiao so in my au Razor knows the creator best out of the mortal characters bc he knows what you feel like. And even if he doesn't, he can tell that you smell different.

Qiqi knows. I love big brother Xiao hc especially when it's him atoning for accidentally killing her, so he taught her about the creator and through both his lessons and being exposed to the creators light through him, she's able to recognize you right away

Hu Tao knows but only because literally every single ghost yells it at her the moment she says anything about you being an imposter lol

Rosaria has a brain. She doesn't really believe you're a god but also she's like, bro is it illegal to be born with a face now?? Huh?? Like, she doesn't think you're impersonating the creator since you're not actively going around telling people you're the creator or taking advantage of anything. But also she just really doesn't give a shit. Even when she does find out you're the real deal she's just like,, Cool.

Beidou and the whole crew. Kazuha tells her before they depart, but also, if xiao hasn't saved you in this au, then she's on the seas vibing when she finds you floating and she's quick to connect that you're the creator because how the fuck would anyone survive that

Mona. She doesn't realize immediately but she gets mad and checks ur stars to find out a way to take you down and realizes from there

Itto. If ur a hot demon man thing then you recognize the creator that's my rule

[i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry]

Hi I have a question,

Who do you think would immediately recognize that the reader is the creator of the world? Would they help?

Also your works are really cool, I've gotten so sucked into the au, and reading your stuff feeds my obsession very nicely

Also could I just randomly ask to be 🌺 Anon?

Well, we have the obvious: the Khaenri'ah squad (Albedo, Kaeya, Dainsleif, the Abyss Order, honorary members: the Travelers)

The rest of these are going to be more spoilerish for my works so uh read at your own digression?

Kazuha! (He was my second rank 10 friendship and my first whale instance (right from f2p lmao)) Man's so connected to nature, Teyvat just straight up tells him like "yooo that's the GOAT right there" and he's like "bet"

Xiao, bc fuck you. Precious birb boy has been through so much. He doesn't realize at first, but it's while he's chasing you down on orders that he realizes: he can't feel his karmic debt in your presence, you soothe an eternity of torment by existing, and breaks down on the spot because god he hurt (or was about to hurt) the most divine existence in Teyvat. of all his unforgivable sins, this was the greatest. He goes to tell Ganyu, because she's also precious and also entirely uninvolved in the situation bc she's so busy all the time. He doesn't tell Zhongli because that BITCH just sent him to kill his creator.

Klee is my longest main, first rank 10 friendship, lil sister of Albedo and daughter of motherfucking ALICE. She immediately recognizes the "stardust person"

Thoma doesn't immediately refer to you as an imposter, but he also doesn't immediately realize. He helps you hide from your unjust persecution until he realizes, just being in your presence is enough to let him know that you're the one they claim you're impostering.

Like Thoma, Beidou offers you shelter. She's seen all sorts, and at least allows you to tell her your story and shit man you've been through the wringer, wanna be a pirate? She'll help you change your appearance before you ever have to touch land again. She realizes quicker than Thoma bc she has the added help of Kazuha.

Diluc! I've always liked the "he's more self aware than most bc of Kaeya" idea (idk where that came from but it's good shit). Though he's against you on principle, he's quick to realize upon actually seeing you or by hearing from Kaeya (as strained as their relationship is, Kaeya would never lie or so much as joke about something like this)

Mona, the stars tell her. She was originally recruited to help track you down, a noble cause for her astrology, she believes. But she figures it out quickly and becomes appalled at the actions of her city.

Razor, the goodest boy. His instincts tell him you're someone important. Someone dear and to be protected and pampered. Bennet and Fischl fall in line, they're familiar with being singled out for something out of control, and if Razor likes you then you must be nice! They realize soon with their collective braincell.

Bastard boi Childe. His time in the abyss is enough to give him more insight than most. and if he uses his foul legacy? that man immediately becomes your puppy. read nicebonescomrade's work on it!!!

Madame Ping knows all. Yanfei finds out from her.

Xiangling finds out from Guoba, Xingqiu and Chongyun combine forces to disprove her and in the process prove her.

Hu Tao figures it out, she's got her sources (ghosts) and she can instinctively tell you're not someone normal. She does a little reconnaissance and lo and behold, you're that bitch

Qiqi. Enough said

Itto doesn't know until someone tells him but he's on your side bc himbo is good. I also feel like Yae would know and try to advise Ei, but she's either too late or ignored.

[jayeeintheclouds-inactive]

Who’s your favourite parent?

istg my friends still have no idea at all that this blog exists and i’m running it they’re gonna be so mad at me lmao

Notes: past zhongchi, reader is zhongchi’s love child, platonic! zhongchi x reader, adeptus reader, reader used to be mortal, angst, implied dead childe, reader is called princess once but generally gn reader

Summary: You love to reminisce about childhood games, all except one, one that you absolutely despise. One that takes a father away from you, no matter what option.

Baba: Father in Chinese

“(Y/NNNN), who’s your favourite parent? Me or Baba?”

You cocked your head to one side and pretended to think for a while, even though you already had an answer in mind.

“Baba, of course,” you say cheekily, and watch in amusement as your father’s face morphed into an offended expression. “Want me to list the 100 reasons why?”

Your father grumbles. “For an 8 year old kid, you sure are incredibly cheeky. Xiao must have rubbed off on you. I’ll tell Zhongli to stop letting Xiao babysit you.”

You tug on his hair. “That’s reason number one.”

“Hey!”

“I can’t believe you forgot that I’m 10. That’s reason number two,” You huff your baby cheeks and turn away. Childe snorts.

“Okaaay, I’m sorry, princess. How can I make it up to you?” He smiles, and carries you in his arms. You are way too big to be carried anymore, but he doesn’t care, and neither do you.

“Listen to my speech about why Baba is my favourite father then.”

Childe frowns immediately, and childishly throws you out of his arms. He only does so because he knows that you’ll land in his husband’s arms safely, and you do, letting out an “oomf!” as you fall in your other father’s strong but soft arms.

Zhongli sighs, and stares disappointedly at a pouting Childe - he sometimes can’t tell who is the real child between the both of you. “Please refrain from throwing our kid, Childe. (Y/N) could have gotten injured real badly.”

“Yeah! That!” You find your way and sit up in Zhongli’s arms, pointing at Childe accusingly. “You don’t take good care of me, but Baba does. That’s reason number three.”

You and Zhongli watch smugly as Childe glares at the both of you, getting more and more offended by the second. How dare his husband and his child gang up on him? Simply outrageous. Have they forgotten that he is Tartaglia, 11th of the Eleven Fatui Harbing-

You interrupt his internal monologue. “You’re doing that monologue again, aren’t you?” You deadpan. Dang it, he thinks, but he won’t admit defeat just yet.

“If I agree to let you sit on my hair while I’m in my Foul Legacy form, will you make me your favourite father?”

You perk up, almost convinced. It is Childe’s turn to look smug.

“Childe,” Zhongli warns him, but he too leans down to your ear and whispers, “If I turn into dragon form and let you ride on my back, will I remain your favourite father?”

Your eyes light up in excitement, bringing a playful smirk to Zhongli’s face - a side that you and Childe see for the first time.

“Don’t listen to him!” Childe whines, “I’ll even create my hydro whale for you to play with it!”

“You’ll get wet playing with that useless whale. I’ll let you play with my mini meteor,” Zhongli counters.

“Okay, fine! I’ll buy whatever you like. Just name it, and it’ll be in front of you in a minute!”

“I’ll buy twice of whatever you like.”

“With Dad’s money?” You ask.

“With Dad’s money,” Zhongli confirms smugly. You’ve never seen a more offended face on Childe before.

You start laughing, and Zhongli slowly joins in too, bouncing you up and down while you are still seated comfortably in his arms. Childe puts on a prideful face at first, and refuses to crack a smile, but it isn’t long before he joins in the merry laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Childe concedes defeat, “I can see why Zhongli is your favourite parent now. There is a reason why I fell for him after all.” He executes a wink after that statement, successfully bringing a blush to Zhongli’s face.

You giggle when Childe takes you from Zhongli’s arms into his own, careful not to drop you. “Don’t worry, Dad, even if Baba is number one in my heart, you’ll always be second.”

Childe pouts. “Only second? I don’t like the sound of that.”

You wish you had listened when your father said that.

It has been so many years. Your other father has made you an adeptus, as per your request, and you have taken a liking to harnessing new powers and staying with your father and adeptus friends together for a long time.

But at what cost? Your other father is dead.

You want to hate them, but you can’t. You want to hate them for falling in love even though one is a mortal and the other a powerful god, you want to hate them for making you choose between the both of them, and you want to hate them for leaving you in either choice. But you cannot find it in yourself to hate them.

If you had chosen to remain mortal with your Snezhnayan father, you and he would die eventually, leaving your other father all alone and grieving for the both of you. If you chose to become an adeptus instead, you and Zhongli would live together for eternity, but you both would have to watch your ginger-haired father die. Either way, you’d have to go through the pain of leaving one of your fathers.

It was a hard decision, but could anyone blame you?

You hated the fact that you saw understanding and love in Childe’s eyes when you chose to become immortal with Zhongli. You don’t think you deserved any of it, especially when you had just basically wished him a lonely death. You couldn’t look at your father in the eye when he stroked your hand and looked at you with the softest gaze, just moments before his soul completely left his body on the deathbed.

You wish he hadn’t taken the fact that he’d always be your second favourite person to heart. You hope he never forgives you for leaving him to die alone, even though you know he would forgive you no matter what. Because you are his child, and he loves you.

And you hate that. You wish he would just not forgive you for leaving him all alone in death, as it would make the guilt eating your heart less painful.

You wipe away a tear that is rolling down your cheek, and muster a smile in front of Childe’s grave. The stone is cracked and looks like it could crumble into pieces any moment soon. You make a mental note to change it with Zhongli.

Gently, you place a bowl of Calla Lily Seafood Soup in front of the stone, and make sure to sweep away any leaves on the ground.

Out of childish, playful spite, you snicker lightly as you place chopsticks on the rim of the bowl.

The smile that is on your face disappears quickly, and you are frowning again, despite your efforts not to.

“Dad,” You softly mutter, receiving no response, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t want you to die alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Come back. I’m sorry.”

The more you mutter, the more you feel yourself losing your composure. It’s not long before you break and start wailing, the salty tears dropping into the soup meant for him. You don’t notice.

“I’m sorry,” You continue to apologise tearfully.

You hear the wind picking up a bit, and a small sound is heard next to your ear.

It was my choice, the wind says, and caresses your cheek. You wail louder.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

mmm yummy SAGAU rambles

Childe who recognizes you at first sight. he’s one of the first people to hear about an “imposter” and is immediately up and armed to go hunt them down himself- how dare someone try to impersonate the Creator, his god, the one who gave him the courage to drag himself out of the Abyss and back into the light? no one yearned to find and eliminate the imposter as much as Childe, to tear that arrogant fool apart with his own hands and watch them die before his eyes- it was the only thing that would satisfy his fury. 

so he begins hunting, bow in hand and dull blue eyes blazing with anger and bloodlust. he’s allowed to, of course, as the only person who matches his rage is the Tsaritsa herself- in fact, she commands that the Fatui turn their efforts into finding and bringing this imposter to justice, and Childe- Tartaglia- is more than happy to comply as the Eleventh Harbinger.

but when he does find you, the so-called “imposter”, he instead finds a broken heap of a person, divine blood dripping from every injury as you cover your face and cower.

between sobs you beg for him not to hurt you, and Childe’s heart breaks as he hears the voice that so often hummed and laughed inside his head, the sign that the Creator was watching over him, now pleading, desperate to just be able to live.

he knows you love his Foul Legacy form- he’s heard you fawn over it during the weekly fights you bring him to- so within a second he’s transformed, the pain that usually lingers mysteriously gone as he kneels before you, delicately lifting your bruised hand to his forehead with a soft rumble. you’re shaking, breaths coming out as wheezes from fear, and Childe whines sadly.

so he promises that he will protect you- never again shall a Fatuus harm you in any way, instead they will guard your precious life as you heal, and Childe will be by your side. his Foul Legacy is unhindered by pain; now it feels whole, complete, you filling the missing link between him and the Abyss. he will be your guard, even if the rest of the world is against you, so he never has to hear that kind, wonderful voice of yours filled with fear ever again.

[genshin-impact-fics]

Streamer!Genshin Reacting to Character!(Y/N) Dying in Game

!Warning!: Major character deaths & angst

Characters: Diluc, Venti, Childe, & Zhongli

Diluc:

It was a race to get inside one of the bases of the Abyss Order to put a stop to whatever plans they were in the process of executing that could potentially put many lives in danger. Diluc was rather calm while playing though it would be a lie to say that it wasn’t a bit annoying that the route to the domain was timed

It was once inside the domain did things pick up fast as it seemed to be a fighting wave system which after beating the first two rooms there was a short scene where in the end Lisa and Amber stayed behind to hold off the incoming enemies so the rest of the group could go further. It seemed like forever doing some of the puzzles to unlock the doors to reach the next fight

In that fourth room after the defeat of hilichurls and abyss mages did suddenly a short cut scene appear to show the appearance of an Abyss Lector. As remembering how much he hated fighting this guy in the spiral abyss he already knew what he was in for; however that was until your character stepped forward with your weapon ready. Diluc was actually sad to have to leave you behind as he was hoping that you’d be one of the characters that went with him to the very end

“I think I’ve watched enough shows and movies to know what this could be leading up to.” He’d comment to his viewers as he finally reached the destination where the Abyss Herald was. Finishing the fight triggered another cutscene as the traveler’s sibling appeared and was making their small speech, asking if the lives of the “friends” the traveler made were worth losing

Diluc is watching with a straight face as he kinda expected this but the who was what he wasn’t sure about and truthfully the only one he’d be truly heartbroken about is your death, but they wouldn’t kill you now of all times right? Wrong; soon the cutscene finally came across where they had left you and you were leaning against the wall extremely injured with your weapon laying beside you. Diluc is frowning cuz he has to watch you die now

Listening to your final words as you spoke to no one Diluc would sulk in his chair a little. In the last moment before your eyes closed, if you mentioned something about not getting to tell his character your true feelings it is visible that Diluc looks like he wants to cry(but he doesn't). Once the screen showed the mission complete he’d grab the plush he had of your character and hold it looking at his camera. “Of all the characters I thought were going to die, I wasn’t ready for it to be (y/n).” At that point he’d probably call it a day from there but he’d still talk to his viewers as he probably would watch the tribute videos that fans had already made

Venti:

Everything was in chaos as it looked like archon war 2 was going to be taking place, but this time it was a war between the Abyss Order and the Archons. He was heading to Mondstadt to help and to check on you. Dvalin was flying around sending attacks at the abyss members. “Ah traveler there you are!” The sound of your voice as you landed before him; as weird as it was to see you in your archon robes was odd but you looked so good! After a short conversation you had gone flying off and it was time to get back to fighting

Things were looking good as it seemed like they were winning against the abyss order though it wasn’t over yet. It was until up in the air did a cutscene starting showing you and the traveler’s sibling fighting going at it. Venti is so captivated by how serious and cool you look fighting, but it all changed when the sibling landed a blow that caused you to fall from the sky ending up falling into the Whispering Woods

Venti couldn’t run fast enough to get to the woods to check up on you but when he did the first thing he saw was the sibling standing before you. He’s already sad and yelling at the sibling for hurting you though it seemed that now he was there the sibling went and disappeared revealing the real condition you were in. “No, no, no! This better not mean (y/n)’s dying.” He’d say in denial as he’s already starting to cry a little

“A-Ah Windblume h-haha… Sorry you have to see me like this.” Even in a moment like this you gave him such a cheesy grin until you seemed to grimace in pain. “Unfortunately it seems like… This is it for me. As long as the winds blow I will always be with you, so please watch over Mondstadt for me.” Your words were making Venti cry as it was like back in your story quest but only ten times worse. And to think it was already painful as it was your next words that did him in. “Maybe in another life we will find each other again and maybe then we can be together.”

Watching you start to glow until you turned into partials of light till nothing of you was left, Venti is devastated. The chat is crying with him as he’s saying how awful it was that his sibling had killed the love of his life! His viewers are going to send him fanart and fics to look at that was an alternative that you lived in the game

Childe:

It was a big fight with the confrontation of the Fatui Harbingers, facing off against one of the other stronger members that blocked the path to proceed to seeing the Tsaritsa. The boss’ first stage was fine; however during the second stage it seemed after losing a certain amount of health the damage that Childe was dealing significantly decreased.

It was when the cutscene started that Childe was already dreading the foul legacy form he’d be facing this time. You suddenly came out of nowhere and already in your foul legacy form yourself Childe is going crazy over how cool you look; he’s also swooning at the fact that you’ve come to his rescue. The fighting progressed until you landed a successful hit that weakened the other harbinger; however, at that same time the other harbinger managed to hit you with a powerful attack

Childe is screaming at the sight of your mask breaking while you fell to the ground. He’s so glad that his character is running over to check on you instead of the fight picking right up, but he’s already feeling the feels hit him hard cuz he hates seeing you hurt. Seeing you back to normal, the damage you sustained was really bad; then the worst thought came to his mind. “This-This better not be what I think it is,” he’s saying not looking away from the screen listening to you weakly talk

“Haha don’t give me that look sweetie, I couldn’t just let this be where your journey ends.” Hearing those words and the nickname you used for his character was sad. “To think we’d be able to travel together more, but hey… Promise you won’t stop fighting and could you look after my siblings for me.” Childe is literally crying now that the reality of the situation is clear. If he gets a choice of dialog to choose from he is going to pick the choice that says that he pinky promises

If your character smiled at the choice he wanted to smile but he’s also just sad, you were dying in his character's arms. If you had given a small love confession in the little bit of life that was in you, he’s going to ugly sob and once the fight was starting again he needs to pause by going into his bag

Immediately he goes getting his big plush of you and coming back to hug it and cleaning his tears with his sleeve before looking at the camera. “I wasn’t ready for this, my baby!” He was not expecting to be losing you; he figured that some characters would possibly die but you were the last character he thought would be killed off in the game. There’s Fs in the chat all around and the crying emote; it’s sad boi hours in this chili’s. He doesn't wanna do the fight but also he gotta avenge you so this last stage fight was for you. Afterwards he’s gonna go look at fanart and video edits

Zhongli:

After helping some of the other nations and their archon’s fend off the abyss order it was time he headed to Liyue to find you. Of course as usual it wasn’t going to be as easy as running around the harbor until he got word from Xiao that you were in Cuijue Slope. So he headed over to help you before anything seriously bad could happen to you

Getting to the open area there you were fighting against the sibling as you were even in your archon robes. Going in and interrupting the fight his sibling clearly looked annoyed and proceeded to try to get him to side with them which of course he didn’t. A Herald appeared to allow the sibling to get away which the fight with the Herald commenced

Just when Zhongli finished up the fight thinking he had won it strangely went to a cutscene as his character and you started to talk; however it was when the fallen Herald came out of nowhere about to attack his character but must to his surprise you shielded him not only taking the hit, but also using your elemental burst to finish off the enemy. Zhongli is frowning at how badly you were hurt as he already has a bad feeling this wasn’t going to end good; the traveler was helping you sit up after having fallen over

“I’m glad to see that you aren’t hurt my friend.” You said as you certainly have seen better days. “Sadly I believe my time has come… Do not be sad dear friend, I have lived many many years… As knowing you has been life changing. Though rocks change from erosion, know that no time will change how I felt about you.” Your words broke his heart as you had such a soft expression on your face as your body began to glow and before he knew it you turned into particles of light and disappeared. He probably wouldn’t cry at most maybe a tear but he is clearly upset about your passing in game and would take a break to talk to his viewers and maybe look at the fanart that surprisingly had been put out already

[willwrite4mora]

Childe x Reader: Blackmail

You can't believe you found an action figure for a child somewhere in these dangerous woods. Did a kid really drop this over here? What is a vulnerable kid doing in a place infested with hilichurls?

"Oh no, where did I drop it?" You heard a voice grumble somewhere a few trees away from you. You knew that voice. You looked around to see of you could find the man it belonged to.

Tartaglia of the Fatui. One of your sworn enemies. But damn it, he was such a hot guy. You didn't know if you'd rather kiss him or kill him, he was just too annoying but also way too good looking. And he seemed to be searching for something here. That couldn't be good.

You stuck the action figure in your belt. You knocked an arrow onto your bow and aimed in warning, getting out from behind the bushes. "Hands up, Fatui. I'm armed. Tell me right now what you were looking for here."

Childe jumped up at your voice and quickly turned your way, putting his hands up in surrender. Once he saw it was you who had him cornered, his surprise faded and he smirked.

"Ah, Y/N. What a lovely welcome as always. You seem happy to see me. Anyways, I was just looking for..." he trailed of when he eyed the toy on your belt. "Y-you found it! Give it back to me!"

He took a step your way and you shot a warning arrow right in front of his feet, quickly getting another arrow ready to fire. He startled and quickly took a step back, putting his hands up higher.

"Stay where you are," you warned. "What is this toy and why do you need it?"

"Ah, it's nothing special. It's kind of embarrassing, actually," he looked away for a brief moment, then met your gaze again. "I have a little brother. His birthday is coming up. That's his present."

"Ha, you think I believe that a harbinger of the Fatui sends his brother a simple action figure as a present?" you mocked. "I thought you had limitless funds."

"I do," he protested.

"Then buy a new one," you said.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"This one was specially made. It's one of a kind. That cost me my monthly salary and some."

You took a quick glance at the figure. It didn't look all to special, but you were not really knowledgeable in the field of toys.

Sensing your confusion, Childe added, "it's a character that he made up himself. Look at the joints. Every single one is separately movable. Even the fingers!" He seemed kind of proud of this toy.

"So, this thing is really special to you, isn't it?" you tried to pry a little.

"Yes, can I please have it back?" he asked. "Pretty please?"

"Of course you can," you said. You lowered your bow and Childe took that as a sign to walk over to you. You stuck your hand out to keep him at a distance. He didn't seem to expect that.

"You don't really expect me to give it back for nothing in return, right?" You smirked at him. He gulped.

"All right," he said hesitantly. "What do I need to do for you?"

You got him right where you wanted. He was now free to humiliate in any way you liked. "I have an idea. How good are you against Oceanids?"

"You know my vision doesn't work against those, right?" he asked with concern in his voice. "It would take me ages to take one down using brute force only."

"Oh, but isn't the great Tartaglia stronger than this? Can't you just use your Foul Legacy or something?" you kept mocking.

He cringed. "You know how much that hurts me..."

"I take that as a yes. I need some of its drops." You turned around and went for the direction of the creature. "Come on." Childe just groaned, but followed you anyway.

Well, Childe was right. It really did take him ages to defeat the Oceanid, not using his Foul Legacy. He was panting on the ground from exhaustion. But you had your Oceanid drops and were quite pleased with how much you were able to torture him.

"Okay," he breathed out, still out of breath. "You had your fun. Now give that toy back to me." He stood up on wobbly legs to extend his had in the direction of your belt. You simply bolted out of his reach.

"Nuh-uh!" you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. "This thing is worth more than just one battle, don't you think?"

He groaned in irritation and dropped back to the ground. "You can't be serious!" he yelled.

You were thinking on what else you could make him do. Should you let him walk around Liyue without pants on? Should you let him fight a boar with his bare hands? Should you make him kiss you?

Wait, what was that last thought about? Yes, he was hot, but he was your enemy! This handsome man was your enemy! You were completely red in the face right now. The stupid thought just couldn't escape you.

But, would it really be that bad if you made him kiss you? He couldn't deny you right now with the leverage you had over him.

"What's wrong? Your face is completely red," Childe stated.

You shook your head trying to clear your thoughts. Face still flushed, you faced him and declared, "if you want this back," you tried not to stutter, "you have to kiss me."

He looked back at you with a confused expression. "Kiss you?"

"Do you want it back or not!" you yelled, angry from your embarrassment.

He laughed and you got even redder. "After the Oceanid, I thought you were going to make me suffer even more." He got closer to you, wrapping one arm around your waist. He put a finger under your chin in order to make you look up at him. "But I think I'll quite enjoy this one."

He leaned in and kissed you on the lips. You kissed back immediately, way too eager to deny any longer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face even closer to yours. You felt his lips smirk against yours. He pulled you closer to him by the waist. It was perfect.

Then he broke away from you. You were still in a daze from the experience. Then you noticed the toy in his hand. You looked at your belt, where it used to be, and it wasn't there. He took it from you.

"Thank you for giving it back so nicely," he said with sarcasm. He turned around and started walking off. "If you want another kiss, I'll look forward to what you'll blackmail me with next time."

[aconfusedkitten]

@imheretoruineverything 

you asked for the childe analysis and you’re getting an essay, because i have too much free time and can ramble with the best of them.

my thing with childe is linked with the fact that from what we know of the abyss, anything that stays there for an extended amount of time becomes warped and twisted, whether it’s completely, like the abyss order’s mages and heralds, or someone like dainsleif, who is partially transformed by the curse from it. 

so in my mind, childe, who spent three months there, is bound to show some signs of being effected by it.

so physically, he doesn’t seem to be any different than other people in teyvat, unless you count his eyes lacking shine, and overall, just looking blank compared to other characters.

aside from that, the only other physical trait he brought back from the abyss is the foul legacy, which isn’t quite the same. i do find it pretty interesting how often its compared to the hydro abyss herald, and there’s probably some analysis that could be done there, but as someone who doesn’t know much about fighting, i’m going to leave that be.

moving on to personality type things, you know falling into the abyss at fourteen has some effects on him, because that’s the age you’re still figuring yourself out.

we already know that after he got out, he was almost immediately shipped off to the fatui because of more violent tendencies he developed in the abyss, and that his main goal is becoming stronger. so why not say it’s more than that? from what we’ve seen, the abyss order all gives off pretty distinct energy, like how dain was able to track the herald, so maybe childe has something similar? not as noticeable as the order, or even enough to be recognizable, but enough to be off-putting.

there’s also the fact that we know other characters find him to be out of control. i forgot where it’s said, but it’s been mentioned that he’s stationed outside of snezhnaya because of the trouble that follows him. adding to that, we see him go kind of crazy when he thinks the traveller took the gnosis before he could, despite being low-key and level-headed for most of the time prior. 

which sort of makes me wonder how what effects the foul legacy has outside of being painful, but that’s a thought for another time.

anyway, all the things i mentioned in the original post are already slightly in there in canon? at least if you’re looking for them? but they could definitely stand to be more apparent, especially if we end up having more abyss related storylines.

there are some more ideas i have for him, but they don’t really fit what i was talking about in the original post, and they’re more headcanon anyway, so i won’t share them here.

hopefully my rambles didn’t bore you too much xD

[zinkuldump]

Genshin Impact drabble

Childe X m!Traveler (alias: Valia)

"Oh shit—" Tartaglia cursed when the Traveler dashed at him right at the moment he attacked, even though his electric spear slashed the blonde's face. The man, though wounded, still managed to close the distance considerably and pierce his opponent's shoulder. Soon, the Harbringer found himself pinned to the floor as the last of the energy he's been using to hold onto his Foul Legacy form has been ripped away from him and the aftereffects hit immediately: all the exhaustion and pain attacking all at once. He struggled to keep a hold of all his senses and felt his opponent's weight on him, as well as his blood dripping onto his face. He managed to focus his vision and saw that the man also seemed exhausted, but there was a certain strength in it as he continued to stare Childe down in their peculiar situation.

"You can stop being so serious, comrade," he tried to give a lighthearted smile. "You've already won. You know I won't be getting up for a while now."

"Why did you go all out again? It was supposed to be a friendly match. And yet you hurt yourself just to get an edge."

"And you still beat me, so it wasn't a wasted effort. I can't take defeat without giving it all I've got, you should know that much already."

The blonde was silent, but he didn't relax. 

"What, are you worried about me?" Childe smirked.

The Traveler suddenly broke eye contact, and stopped holding onto his defeated foe so tightly, seeming confused. But the hesitation lasted only a moment. He then looked right back and smiled with a weird gleam in his eye that Tartaglia wasn't sure how to interpret. "Yeah, I am actually," he said. "But only when I see you. Since you appear to really want me to kill you."

"Then why aren't you killing me? You could easily do so now. I am still with the Fatui and I will probably keep causing trouble for you. What's stopping you?"

The smile disappeared from the Traveler's face and he just kept staring into Childe's eyes.

"Valia," the defeated man said as he hoisted himself slightly up on his healthier arm, the one that wasn't skewered by the other's sword. But before he could find any comfortable position, his opponent suddenly got even closer and he felt his lips on his own, somehow both confident and questioning at the same time. Tartaglia had only a brief moment of surprise before he returned the kiss, struggling a bit to stay upright but Valia soon grabbed his back to hold him. He felt almost entranced for a moment before another voice broke him out of it.

"Aaaaalright, time out Valia, the weird perfume lady is one thing but that's still a Fatui—"

Both men stopped dead in their tracks and the Traveler suddenly hid his face in the other's shoulder for a moment before turning to his flying friend.

"Paimon, please, I know you're just worried, but please—!"

Childe suddenly burst into laughter that soon turned into pained coughing. 

"Well, you sure know how to both build and break a tension, comrade."

The Traveler slowly stood up, swaying a little but also shooting Tartaglia a worried look.

"Well, maybe Paimon's idea of a time-out isn't that bad at this point."

"Of course it isn't!" the flying fairy crossed her arms. "You both really overdid it today!"

"Sure, mom," Valia snorted and then turned in a conspiratorial whisper to Childe, who managed to finally sit up somewhat properly. "I'm not bringing her next time."

"Hey—!"

"It's a date then?" Childe interrupted Paimon's another would be tangent and his questions was immediately answered with a content smile.

"Definitely."