#i just started thinking about him listening to darkness when he's angry at his dad

[sluttyhenley]

Bruce Springsteen Series

we were prisoners of love, a love in chains he was standin' in the door i was standin' in the rain with the same hot blood burning in our veins

"Adam Raised a Cain"

[literallyspiderwoman]

“Dad are you really this afraid of me?!”

PS: I edit this a lot so be sure to come back occasionally!

There were a LOT of lines in ATSV that stuck out to me, but this specific one hit me right in the feels.

First of all the way Gwen says it, her tone, the pain and emotion in her voice, her expression, EVERYTHING leading up to this one simple question is heartbreaking. Especially when you consider why she’s even asking this in the first place.

I want to point out that right after Gwen took her mask off, the background colors change from dark red to much less threatening colors, much softer if I might add. This basically signifies George’s POV.

Gwen had just revealed her identity as Spider-Woman to her dad, who’s now in complete shock. He believes Spider-Woman is a murderer and the one responsible for Peter’s death, so now that his own daughter comes out and tells him that she is in fact Spider-Woman, he jumps to the conclusion that “Spider-Woman is a murderer who killed Peter so that must mean that’s all true about my daughter.” instead of “Ah, my daughter is sweet so there’s no way those things about Spider-Woman are true!”. Now when I first watched this scene, I was like “Huh?”, because Gwen could’ve said ANYTHING else to her dad. She could’ve been like “Why are you doing this?!”, or she could’ve gotten angry at him. Gwen is WAY stronger than George, if he decided to shoot her, she would have been able to easily dodge that bullet. She could seriously hurt George if she wanted to and she knows it, but when George started reading Gwen her Miranda Rights, Gwen wasn’t angry, she was heartbroken, and you can see the change in her expression.

At first, she looks upset, fearful, and worried. Then, she looks hopeful. Hopeful that her dad will hear what she has to say, hopeful that her dad will understand her and trust her when she tells him that she isn’t a murderer, but he doesn’t. THATS when Gwen’s expression shifts from hopefulness to disbelief and heartbreak. “You’re in this to help people right? Well so am I”, Gwen was trying to convince her dad that she was on his side, that she didn’t kill Peter, that she isn’t what he thinks she is, but George doesn’t listen. Gwen thought that by telling her dad “You’re all I have left”, that that’d make him listen, but it didn’t.

You can hear the utter shock and disbelief in Gwen’s voice when her dad actually starts reading her rights, and you can hear how scared and distraught George is too, but there’s a hint of remorse in his voice. He sounds like he doesn’t want to do this. He sounds like he’s in pain, and well- he is. He’s arresting his own daughter. George thought that he was doing the right thing by hunting down Spider-Woman, he thought it was for the greater good, but now? He realizes he was just hurting Gwen.

Just put yourself in Gwen’s position for a second. She just revealed her biggest secret to her dad, and the reason she hid it from him for so long was because she was terrified of the thought that he would attempt to arrest her, and he DOES. He chooses to be a ‘good’ cop over being a dad. Imagine your own father, your own flesh and blood, and the person who gave you life, is absolutely terrified of you to the point where he almost aims a gun at you out of pure fear. But George doesn’t see his own child, he sees a monster. The same monster that murdered his daughter’s best friend. He quite literally can’t see his daughter in front of him, he just sees Spider-Woman.

“How long have you been lying to me?” Is the only question George asks Gwen throughout this entire scene. He asked this as a father, not as a cop. He was absolutely distraught and the only thoughts going through his mind were “No, this can’t be true…” and “How could my girl, my sweet girl…” (Actual line from the script btw). Another line that sort of stood out to me was “Can you just not be a cop for a second and be my dad here?”, Gwen didn’t feel like she was speaking to her dad, she felt like she was facing down a cop. George has been treating Gwen like a criminal this whole interaction. “Do you really think I’m a murderer?” Gwen asked this because could not BELIEVE that her dad actually thought that of her. The whole reason Gwen removed her mask in the first place was out of fear that her dad would actually shoot her, he already fired a warning shot, so why wouldn’t he just go ahead and pull the trigger?

Something I noticed earlier is how Gwen’s spider senses went off when her dad approached her. Spider senses ONLY go off when there’s a threat nearby, so this pretty much means Gwen saw her dad as a threat to her life :(

Also taking note of the fact that Gwen is his daughter, 16 years old- and like 5’4, but George is STILL powerless against her. His only option is to get her to surrender. Gwen and George kinda switched places throughout this scene. At first, Gwen is terrified of George, and then by the end it’s the other way around.

Gwen tries her hardest to plead with George, she kept her arms up in a defenseless position the whole time to show her dad that she won’t hurt him, but he can’t even look at her. This is something I took note of when watching ATSV; While George is reading Gwen her Miranda Rights, he can’t bring himself to look at her. He just stares at the ground, with a disappointed expression on his face. A face of pain. There’s a clear difference when George first says “You have the right to remain silent”, and the second time he says it. It’s like he doesn’t want to do it.

Now, I do hate George and I think he did a LOT wrong in this movie, but just look at his face for a second. Does that look like the the face of a man who is happy with what he’s doing? No. That’s a face of regret and guilt. He isn’t doing this because he wants to, he’s doing this because he’s afraid. Afraid of what exactly? Well, that brings us to my next point.

So obviously Gwen is in shock right now, her own father is trying to arrest her because he believes she murdered her childhood friend. Not only is Gwen shocked but she’s also confused. She’s probably thinking “Why is he doing this?”, and she came to the conclusion that her dad was doing this out of fear. Fear of HER.

This is a major reason as to why Gwen didn’t reveal her identity to her dad for so long. She knew he wouldn’t accept her, she knew he’d be scared of her, and she was right. George isn’t doing this just because he wants to be a good cop, he’s standing in front of the ‘dangerous menace’ who killed Peter, and that dangerous menace is Gwen, his daughter. George’s immediate reaction is to arrest Gwen because like I said earlier- He can only see Spider-Woman.

Now onto what this whole analysis is about, the line Gwen utters next… Along with “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done”, and “I can’t lose one more friend”, this line BROKE me. Gwen assumed that George was doing this out of fear, which is the main reason she asked him this. She was so frustrated by the thought of her own father doing something like this to her. She hated being misunderstood to the point of being seen as a monster by the one person she considers a role model to follow, the ONE person she has left. You can hear the pain in Gwen’s voice as well as her dad’s.

You can actually hear a slight change in George’s tone after Gwen says that line. Because SHE’S RIGHT. He IS afraid of her. That’s the whole reason as to why he’s doing this. He doesn’t even respond to her, his voice slightly breaks and you can definitely tell this is really hard for him. Hearing his own daughter straight up ask him if he’s really afraid of her probably felt like a punch in the gut, that’s a question neither of them thought they’d ever have to face.

George fears Gwen because she allegedly ‘killed’ Peter, but it’s also because of her abilities. George has seen what Spider-Woman is capable of. He’s seen what she can do. That’s the reason he backed away and raised his gun at Gwen when she took a step closer to him and yelled “DAD STOP!”, he was scared of her.

Gwen was heartbroken. She was trying her HARDEST to plead with her dad just for him to try and arrest her, aim a gun at her, and yell “DONT COME ANY CLOSER!” at her when she tried to approach him. Honestly I’m surprised Gwen didn’t snap after this, let alone forgive George at all. Imagine living with the mentality that your own dad didn’t hesitate to point a gun at you while yelling at you to not come any closer, poor Gwen.

I’ve always wondered what would’ve happened if Miguel and Jess hadn’t intervened. George actually had the intention of shooting Gwen, so if Miguel didn’t trap him in that box thing, George might’ve actually gone through with it, and that’s sickening to think about. The fact that he was even WILLING to aim a gun at Gwen is enough to fuck her up.

A difference between Miles and Gwen is that Miles knows he didn’t kill Uncle Aaron. Gwen on the other hand originally thought she didn’t kill Peter but the more her dad blamed Spider-Woman for it, the more she actually started to believe that she was responsible for his death. When Gwen told George “I didn’t murder Peter”, she was obviously trying to convince her dad that Peter’s death wasn’t her fault, but I think she was also trying to convince herself.

I don’t blame Gwen for wanting to join the Spider Society after all of this. I mean come on, her dad is terrified of her and thinks she’s a murderer, and she believes if she joins the Spider Society, she’ll finally find people who accept and understand her. No wonder she left Earth 65.

This entire scene was so heartbreaking dude I wanna cry time I watch it ☹️ The watercolors in the background as well as the voice acting from both Gwen and her dad were amazing and SO emotional, along with their expressions and the soundtrack- Ahh I could talk about this movie forever 😭 But anyways, thanks for reading my little analysis and FUCK GEORGE STACY ALL MY HOMIES HATE GEORGE STACY!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️💥💥💥💥💥🙅🏼‍♀️🙅🏼‍♀️🙅🏼‍♀️

[grvyrd-drms]

toby with a s/o who shares a similar trauma to him? if uncomfortable just ignore this rq!

toby rogers x fellow traumatized reader hcs

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A/N: oh no don't worry this is MY TIME TO SHINE THANKS DAD ‼️ i'm projecting a little bit on this one tbh

CW: gn!reader, abuse, borderline personality disorder, shit dads, trauma, ptsd, bullying, mental health issues, etc. just a sad post all around lmao.

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-starting this off by mentioning this is written by someone who had an abusive dad, was severally bullied and has mental disorders. hes literally like me tbh btw fr!!!!

-toby doesn't like to talk about it. his family. school. his mental disorders and tics. he acts like the only life he's ever lived was under the control of slenderman.

-if anything, you would be the one to open up first. if you're a secretive person, just imagine how toby is. you open up about your past, all of your issues etc. and he just.... kind of stares at you. it's uncomfortable at first, and you start to panic and think you overshared or said something triggering.

-then he just sighs, closes his eyes. he doesn't make eye contact with you, just kind of stares into the distance. he mutters a quiet "yeah... i get it. me too." and it's fucking DEPRESSING.

-theres a thick, but comfortable, silence that filled the room. of course you didn't tell him all the details, and he didn't tell you any, but the point got across to both of you that you've both been mistreated.

-from there on toby just kind of studies you. he notices some of your habits are the same as his, flinching at loud sounds or being uncomfortable when you're around angry men. you freeze up when you hear people whispering, and he finally starts to understand why you lock yourself in your room to have panic attacks.

-he's not the world's best therapist, but he's a good listener. he cares about you very much and tries to make it clear by awkwardly offering a shoulder to rest on when you're upset or having unpleasant flashbacks.

-toby's voice gets quiet and his movements become gentler when you're upset about something. he understands what it's like to get like this and knows how to help you (he tries, at least).

for a sprinkle of angst;

-of course he has issues too, and god forbid if you both are having a hard time. it'll be like hell on earth.

-for my bpd fellas, if you've ever dated a person who also has bpd, take that traumatic shit and multiply it by 100.

-toby's bpd is so bad and it's so painful to watch. he'll be freaking out, slamming himself into walls, hurting himself, yelling and crying. he'll split on you, being just a total dickhead.

-of course this will then domino affect, and it'll start making you feel like shit too. give it a few minutes after you freak out and storm off and toby will be crawling back like a pathetic mess. sobbing, begging for you to stay with him, to not leave. he "can't go through that again." his eyes are dark as he clings onto you, he can't stop apologizing. in his eyes, he just made the biggest mistake of his life. which is saying a lot.

-he wants to be good for you. he tries so hard.

[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.

[chaotic-mystery]

i cannot stop thinking about dbf!joel x humiliation kink and him wanting everyone to see what a whore you are for him 😫 screaming without the s

(A/N: This one really got away from me, I couldn't stop writing so I hope I did this justice!)

“Joel, please I didn’t know there would be so many guys here, honest. I thought it was just you and Tommy and maybe a few more.” You begged as he was storming off to his work truck, your arm in his hand and the lunch you made him in the other. It was true, you didn’t think there’d be that many guys there working. It was another location your dad had going but he never worked at this one, so you figured you’d bring Joel some lunch; in the tightest shirt you could find in your closet. Your breasts stretched the fabric so you could see your nipples ever so slightly. “Joel stop it, this is ridiculous!” You yelled as you sat on the tailgate of the truck. “No, you listen to me and listen to me good, little girl” he started. “What’s ridiculous is you showin' up here, in that shirt, lookin’ like some kinda whore.” he spat towards you, the anger lacing his tone as he pushed between your dangling legs to stand close to you. 

You’d never seen Joel this angry before. Sure, he hated the way you showed your thongs every time you wore them, the short skirts that were mere inches away from showing your ass, but this was enough for him. “Do you have to dress like I don’t give you enough attention, baby doll? Why do you fuckin do this to me. Now I’m gonna have to work with those assholes the rest of the day, knowin’ damn well all they’re thinkin about is your tits bein on display for the fuckin world! Do you like gettin’ me this mad so I’ll fuck you stupid?” he sternly says as he never looks away from your eyes, and cocks his head at his question. 

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest seeing how worked up he was. All the excitement flooded to the apex of your thighs. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t think-” He cut you off and grabbed your throat, pulling you close “That’s the fucking problem, sweetheart. You didn’t think. I know you’re a smart girl, so why do you act so fucking dumb sometimes?” Joel placed a small kiss along your jaw, tightening his grip on you. His free hand slid down your loose shorts, running his finger along the middle of your wet panties. “You’re such a nasty girl for me, sweetheart. What part got you wet? Hm? Was it when I called you a whore, baby doll? Was it when I called you fucking stupid for wearing that?” Between each sentence he kissed your neck, sucking the skin roughly until it formed a dark red spot. 

“Should I show all these people how much of a whore you are jus’ for me?” Joel let go of your throat and pushed your panties to the side, instantly plunging a finger inside your soaking wet entrance. You sucked in sharply and looked up at the man standing between your legs with a smirk on his face. “Stay quiet baby doll, you don’t want any of them hearing you getting your pretty pussy played with, do you? Well, you probably do considering your outfit.” You couldn’t even form a sentence. He had you right where he wanted you, caught off guard at the fact he was willing to do this in public and strung out on lust. “Take your shorts off, now.” he mumbled against your hair as he pressed his lips against your head. You didn’t think he’d be this ballsy to fuck you in public, but the way his truck was backed into a corner against some bushes, he knew no one could see what he was about to do. 

He pushed you face down across the tailgate and undid his pants as he held your panties to the side, slipping his hard cock out from behind the jean fabric. “Look at your pussy just drippin’ down your thighs sweet girl. You love gettin me so pissed off I gotta fuck you on my lunchbreak don’t you, fuckin slut.” He ran the head of his cock between your slippery folds, giving your clit a few taps before he shoved himself inside you. He wasted no more time with you, his hips ramming into your ass as his hand pinned your arm against your back. You’re silently thanking the other men working there for turning their music back on, otherwise they’d hear the faint sounds of your skin clapping together along with your moans. 

“J-Joel please, m’gonna cum. Just like that baby, jus like that” you whimpered into the palm of your hand and he roughly grabbed your hair, bending your body so you were against his chest. “If you cum I will not fuck you again for a week, do you hear me? This isn’t for you baby doll. This is for me.” He let go of you, giving you a hard slap on your ass. His attempt to intimidate you didn’t work, it only made you get wetter if that was even possible. Your legs shook and you clenched around his hard cock, trying your best not to cum. The tears of pleasure pricking your eyes as he rammed into you harder and his grunts got louder as he pulled out, cumming all over your ass. You could still feel your clit throbbing, your body wanting to come undone so badly. His panting came to a stop as collected himself, milking every last drop from his cock. he shoved himself back inside his jeans before he pulled out his rag from his back pocket to wipe you off. Joel was gentle now, carefully cleaning you up and putting your panties back into place and your shorts back on you. 

You sat up and leaned against the tailgate, a hot tear falling down your cheek that had some dirt on it. He reached up, brushing his thumb over the dirt spot softly as he said, “Stop your cryin’ darlin’. I’ll be over tonight to take care of ya.” Your head dropped and you looked at your dirt covered shirt, nipples covered now by whatever was on his truck. “Look at me, baby” he muttered and tilted your head up to look at him. “What” you asked quietly, not wanting to leave him now. “Don’t pout now, you needed me to show them how much of a whore you are for me, baby doll. Now go.” He kissed you goodbye and gave you a firm pat on the ass as you walked away. He wiped his hands off with his rag as he yelled at you, “Miss you already sweet pea!” Your eyes have never rolled faster until that moment. Fuck you, Joel Miller, you thought to yourself. 

When you brought him lunch the next day, he sat in a chair with his hands folded behind his head as he watched you walk up to him wearing one of his shirts that was not tight or short in the slightest. The marks he left on your neck were on full display for every guy there to see. He grinned at feeling like he won this time, but you weren’t done with this. You pretended to drop your phone and bent over to pick it up, exposing the skin tight shorts that your ass was spilling out of the bottom. A few whistles came from around the site, and he sighed deeply, his face in his hands. Now it was your turn to have a shitty grin on your face. 

[lieutenant-teach]

Meeting Cyare’s father (or Anakin Skywalker doesn’t like his new son-in-law very much)

(Anakin doesn’t go Dark, everyone lives, everyone’s happy. No Sequels, rehashed Heir to the Empire instead of the OT. DinLuke, minor Anidala, CodyWan, HanLeia)

Din was really relieved about his helmet on, but then he remembered that the Jedi can feel other people’s emotions. No luck, then.

His cyare’s father’s eyes were trying to burn a hole in his head.

– Let me get it straight, Luke. A Mandalorian bounty hunter. – The voice could cut the stone better than a lightsaber.

– Mum likes him, – Luke was smiling, but Din saw him tensing for a fight. A cybernetic hand squeezed his.

– I didn’t raise my only children to give them away to some criminals, - Skywalker-senior stood up from the couch and started walking back and forth. – First I have to agree to allow my princess marry some smuggler…

– Han did help us to stop Thrawn.

– … and then my son wants to partner a bounty hunter, - Luke’s father wasn’t listening to him, anger coming off him like waves – Din was certain he wasn’t Force-sensitive, but one may not be to feel the Dark Side emanating from Anakin Skywalker at that moment.

Din remembered Luke’s words before ‘meeting with father’s half of the family’: ‘My Dad will become angry, I’m sure – he didn’t react to Han well, too – but don’t worry, he’ll cool down’. The warning rang in his ears when he saw Skywalker-senior for the first time: tall, with a rich mane of greying curls, but still very handsome former Jedi assessed him and made up him mind immediately. ‘Not worthy’. Now they were sitting on the softest couch Din’s ass had ever been on, in the richest living room Din’s eyes ever seen, and ‘officially’ letting Din into a very branchy Skywalker family tree. Or, trying.

– Dad, I’m almost thirty, I can decide for myself. And Din’s a hero of his own – he kept Grogu save and sound, stopped Moff Gideon, and also saved the town of Mos Pelgo from the krayt dragon…

– But a bounty hunter! – Skywalker-senior cried exasperatedly. – And, to add to it, a Mandalorian! It is all your fault, Obi-Wan! – he suddenly turned to Luke’s uncle, quietly watching all this until this moment.

– Wait, why? – the man was older than Luke’s father, gray hair and beard and mischievous twinkle in the eyes. So far he hadn’t said anything, but Luke had said his uncle would be supportive. Now it was time to find out. – My fault Luke fell in love?

– With a Mando! – Skywalker raised his voice. – Who in this family has a thing for Mandos?

– Do not speak about Satine like this, – Obi-Wan’s voice became steely, – and anyway, Cody is not a Mandalorian.

– He is a clone of a Mandalorian!

Din started to lose the thread of the conversation. He even wished he had a Jedi ability to speak telepathically and could ask Luke what the kark was going on. He shifted his head, trying not to be very obvious in his confusion, Luke caught his gaze and shrugged.

– Do you really think I taught Luke… - Luke’s uncle sighed. – We have been here before, Anakin. Luke is an adult, he can think for himself. If he brought young Din Djarin here, then he is certain in him and his own feelings. Did your fits of reality rejection change Leia’s mind?

Luke’s father breathed in and out heavily, clearly holding himself from harsher words, but reluctantly accepting the truth.

– Maybe, you should just talk to Din? – Luke’s uncle didn’t look happy, but so wasn’t Din hearing this suggestion.

‘Let me talk, – Din remembered Luke’s words. – When Dad started being… um… not very nice to Han – critical of sorts – Han started talking back. It escalated, some chairs were flying around, Dad and Leia exchanging angry remarks – Dad said she deserved better, Leia insisted she loved Han – and Han himself wasn’t making everything easier. It took two professional negotiators – Mum and Uncle Obi-Wan – to calm them down. Still, Leia and Han are happily married and have a son. So it’s just an unpleasant procedure you have to endure’.

– Maybe, he would take the helmet off for starters? – Poison in Skywalker’s voice could kill a bantha. No, a herd of banthas.

– I cannot, - Din was glad his voice didn’t tremble. He wasn’t afraid of the man, but watching a family drama, and, worse, being the reason of it didn’t feel well. He didn’t want to cause a rift in Luke’s relationship with his father. – My Creed prohibits me to.

– Veery convenient, - Skywalker smiled a tight and unpleasant smile, ignoring pleading and exasperated eyes of his son. – We’re a family now, you don’t show your face even to your family? Luke, have you seen his face?

– Dad, now it’s rude. Of course, I did. – It was obvious Luke was holding well, but his patience wasn’t infinite, too. – It’s only for immediate members.

Technically, after realizing the existence of different Mandalorian Ways, Din wasn’t sure he couldn’t do that. After all, taking off helmets didn’t make Bo-Katan Kryze or Sabine Wren less Mandalorians. But even if he would – not for this man.

The door slid open, a man quietly entered the room and stood behind Luke’s uncle’s armchair, resting his elbows on the chair back. Could he be Boba Fett’s relative? Because he was a carbon copy of Din’s friend, albeit much older. An intricate scar was winding its way from his temple down around his left eye.

– I am being quite nice! – Skywalker protested, dragging all attention to himself. – I can’t believe Padmé actually said ‘I like this guy, let’s take him in’.

– You know, I agree with you, - the probably-Boba’s-relative suddenly said. Luke’s uncle turned to him with puzzled expression. Luke looked disappointed. – The kids take after their mother in their bad choice of life partners.

Skywalker seemed about to blow up. He grabbed something from his belt that appeared to be a black respiratory mask and pressed it to his nose and mouth. The mechanical labored breathing sounds filled the room, Skywalker was drilling the man with burning eyes.

– Now, Cody, that was harsh, - frankly, to Din’s mind, Luke’s uncle didn’t look apologetic a lot. Luke sighed, his shoulders relaxed.

– I thought you were serious! – he even laughed a little, then gather himself again. – Dad, you do realize your approval or disapproval won’t change anything?

– Unfortunately, - Skywalker’s voice also sounded mechanical. – I believe no one in the galaxy or farther is worthy of my children. – He signed. – I guess I have to work with what we have here. – He shot a look at Cody, who smiled in return, and this smile was ‘I know you know I’m right, and I unashamedly love it’.

– Very well, - Obi-Wan clapped his hands. – Now as everything is settled, - Din clearly heard ‘Anakin is settled’, - we can share some stories and know each other better, right, Din?

Luke looked at Din with shining eyes. Din signed quietly. This look was worth all these awkward minutes.

[gabessquishytum]

Orpheus runs away, from Calliope and Dream.

His parents are getting a divorce - not that they've told him. Both his parents treat Orpheus like a baby; he's not a baby. And the house is either too loud with them yelling at each other (most times about him) or too silent with them stonily not talking to each other.

So Orpheus grabs some of his stuff and just goes. He makes it as far as his favorite duck park, near that neat pub that has the best hot chocolate that Dad will take him to some times.

He doesn't know what to do, he's got his little suitcase and sadness,,,,,and now the ducks.

Robin sees a kid with a suitcase sitting on the bench near the duck pond. He knows that his dad wouldn't want him to ignore a sad kid alone in the park.....so he goes over to say hi.

Orpheus has his head down, trying not to cry, when he sees bright pink, muddy, wellies in his field of vision. He looks up and sees a boy about his age with freckles, dark brown eyes and messy hair. The boy asks Orpheus if he's alright; Orpheus says he isn't. The boy says that's okay my dad can fix anything, do you want to come with me to talk to him?

Orpheus knows all about stranger danger, but the boy seems nice, and says that his dad is at their inn...Oh, Orpheus likes the inn with the hot chocolate. So when the boy, Robin, offers his hand, Orpheus takes it and his suitcase, and they walk to the inn.

Hob was working on the books and knew that Robin was mucking about in the park next door. And now he can even hear his voice a little over the afternoon din of the bar. He's probably talked the staff into making him an extra large (dinner ruining) hot chocolate.

He was not expecting to see Robin with another little boy who Hob didn't recognize, who seems to have a small suitcase with him.

Hob bending down to kiss his boy on the forehead: Hey, Songbird, who's your new friend?

Robin: This is Orpheus. I met him in the park. He needs help. And I told him you're the best at helping!

Hob knew encouraging Robin to help would get him in trouble, but he was expecting a stray puppy or feral cat, not a whole little boy. But okay, Hob will roll with it. And Hob listens as Orpheus tells him all about his problems.

By this point Dream and Calliope realize Orpheus is not in the house; that he's gone. They are frantic, especially after they find his little suitcase gone. He can't have gone far, he just can't have, so they each take a direction - Dream heads towards the duck park and then thinks to head to the pub, since he's been there a time or two with Orpheus. Maybe someone would have seen something.

Just as Dream was opening the door to the pub, his phone starts to ring. Hob had convinced Orpheus to give him his dad's number and was calling him.

Hob was actually walking towards to front door, leaving the boys with their giant hot chocolates, as the call connects,,,,bumping into Dream picking up his call.

Aww, I really feel for lil Orpheus here. With his little suitcase and his teddybear. He's convinced that his mum and dad are fighting because of him (and he's also just angry at them for fighting, because it’s scary). In the moment, living at the park with the ducks sounds like a very good alternative to home.

But of course once he gets there, he's rather scared and miserable, and quite happy to get inside with Robyn. Robyn's daddy seems very nice and sensible, and Orpheus is actually quite relieved that his mum and dad are going to come and get him. The hot chocolate is pretty good too.

Hob, meanwhile, has an armful of terrified skinny goth man, and about 45 seconds later, another armful of terrified beautiful goddess woman. He wrangles the two of them into the pub's little snug room (in sight of the boys), sits them both down with a hot chocolate each, and... tells them to start talking.

Dream and Calliope haven't agreed about anything for a very long time, but faced with a gorgeous, stern, doe eyed pub owner, they find themselves suddenly sympathising with each other. They're both blushing and squirming and hating themselves for being horny when they just nearly lost their son... but hey. At least they've got one thing in common now.

[melodysbooksstuff]

next door.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your dads neighbour is joel miller. he's always been like a second father to you, so when things go south with your boyfriend, he's the only that can help.

warnings: 18+, no outbreak, age gap, foreplay, smut, angst, mentions of abuse, swearing, blood, fighting, edging, choking, p in v, unprotected sex, filth, use of daddy, cum, begging.

A/N: i hope you enjoy this, its one of my first times writing smut so i hope it's up to standard. I didn't go too filthy with this one, a lot of it is fluff. ENJOY! xoxo

part 2:

https://www.tumblr.com/melodysbooksstuff/735354865515134976/next-door-pt-2?source=share

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked down the street, soaking wet clothes clinging to your body, autumn leaves on the ground. The rain was pouring down, hard, and the wind was howling past your body, covering you in goose bumps. why didn't you listen to your dad?

He was right, you were just gonna get hurt, you shouldn't have trusted him. But, you were still young, you just wanted to feel normal for once. You thought that dating would be easy. But i guess not with him.

Your now ex boyfriend was still blowing up your phone. you just wanted to throw it into the road and let it get crushed. But then, you knew, if he couldn't call he would just come to the house. And that's the last thing you wanted.

The rain dripped down your hair and you sobbed harder and harder as you walk back home. you couldn't believe you let yourself get into that situation. You can't help but think about it. It rushed through your brain and you couldn't stop it.

You just wanted to watch a movie. But he was so angry, you don't even know how it happened, it was just so fast. You just remember him raising his had to your face, the force was so strong you fell to the ground with a big thump. then you tried to get away but he held you back. You struggled against him but you felt so weak from the shock. Once you had got away, you ran out of his house so fast.

You just wanted to get home to your dad and let him lecture you about boys. You would agree with him this time and take his advice, so you wouldn't get hurt like that again.

That's when it hit you, your dad. he wasn't home. He was out of town for work, ugh how could you have forgotten. You look up as best you can, rain hitting your face thanks to the harsh winds. You were home, finally.

You ran to the door, fumbling to find your keys. "UGH where are they?!". you were getting frustrated but that didn't last long, you just fell to the floor and cried even harder. it was dark outside and the street lamps didn't help much, so you gave up trying to find your keys and did the next thing you could think of.

You lifted your head and stood up, your legs were shaking along with the rest of your body. You started walking over to your neighbours house, Joel Miller. You had known Joel and Sarah for as long as you lived in that house. For 10 years Joel had been a second father to you, and Sarah was like your little sister. Over the years, you and your dad had built up a relationship with your neighbours, spending many days and nights together, laughing, eating, signing along to Joel playing his guitar. You didn't know what Joel would say to this though. Was this the right thing to do, should you really ask him of this? You didn't want to be a burden.

You shakily lifted your hand to the door, hesitant. You just shut your eyes and knocked. You waited... nothing. Maybe he wasn't home. The lights weren't on.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the hallway light flicked on. You saw a shadow figure come to the door. You stepped back into the rain again, not wanting to seem rude being too close to the door.

Your arms wrapped around your body to try and look a little more presentable, but it didn't do much. Your clothes clung to your body, your make up ran down your cheek's and your hair was a mess.

Joel swung open the door and looked down at you, his eyes widened and his lips parted, you stood in silence for a few seconds before he spoke, "Oh my god Y/N what happened?" he asked. Your brows were furrowed and tears couldn't help but make their way down your face. you tried to talk but all that came out was air. Joel didn't waste any time pulling you into the house and rushing round trying to find something to dry you with. You just stood by the now closed door, listening to the wind turn into thunder.

Joel came back over to you with a towel, he wrapped it around you and you instantly felt warmer. He brought you over to his couch and sat you down. He sat next to you, leaving a gap in hope to make you feel more comfortable.

"Y/N... tell me what happened. take a few deep breaths." He said calmly and sat looking at you with his big doe eyes. God those eyes, they could kill. You had always found Joel attractive, anyone would be crazy not to. You used to have the biggest crush on him years ago, but it settled the more you grew up. But you'd be lying if you didn't still fantasise about him occasionally.

You told him what had happened at your ex's house, you were stumbling over your words and crying whilst he listened. When you had finished your story you couldn't look at him. you felt so stupid.

He got up and added another log to the fire, hoping to heat you up more. He came back over to you, this time a little closer. He noticed the skin under your eye turning into a bruise. You looked at him with a small pout and his heart melted on the spot.

"i hope i didn't wake Sarah" You said, tears slowing down now.

"Oh don't worry, she's staying at a friends tonight, you have nothing to worry about." He grabbed your hand and pulled you up, "come on, lets get you cleaned up"

He guided you to his upstairs bathroom, "Sit on here" He said as he tapped on the counter. You did as he said and pulled yourself up onto the marble counter top. With the towel still wrapped around you and feet dangling over the edge, you watched Joel rummage through his cabinet. His back was turned to you, you couldn't help but stare. The way he filled out his checked shirt, his fluffy hair, his slowly greying beard. What were you doing? You shouldn't be thinking like this, especially now.

He turned to you and you look away quickly, hoping he didn't catch you gawking. He started pouring some alcohol onto a cotton pad. You looked down, but he placed a hand under your chin and slowly, carefully lifted your head to look at him. His eyes focused on your skin, a slight graze under your eye with blue and purple glowing around it. His calloused hand never left your face, he lifted the cotton pad to your eye, "this might hurt a little" he said, you nodded and he started carefully swiping it.

"Ouch! that hurts" You winced

"shhh it's okay baby, this wont take long" he cooed.

Ugh, that name, and his accent. He's called you many sweet names before, and it doesn't get any easier. It's torture.

Your face scrunched up as he pressed the cotton to your cheek, but your tried to focus on something else. Joel took a deep breath "You know, your dad would always vent to me about how much he hated the fact that you were dating this guy. So at least there is one positive to come out of this" he said chuckling slightly at the end.

You smiled a little "Yeah, he's gonna be relieved when i tell him about the break up. But please... don't tell him about this, i don't even wanna imagine how he would react." you looked at him with big pleading eyes. He put down the piece of cotton and started fixing up another one. He furrowed his brows and replied in a huff, "Okay. i wont tell him" he said in defeat. You smiled slightly "Thank you" You replied.

He started stroking the next cotton pad on the bloody scrape on your knee. You winced and hissed, he kept a calm face, but it bothered him to see you in pain. The innocent little girl he used to baby sit was all grown up now, but he still treated you like a china plate. "I'm sorry" he said almost in a whisper. He made his way down to your shin where you had been hurt the most, a huge graze lay over red a purple skin. He placed his hand on your inner thigh in order to keep you still. Your stomach was littered with butterflies and your breath quickened. You hoped he wouldn't notice. He started wiping the area and your face scrunched as you let out a grunt. You grabbed onto his big shoulder and balled your hand into a fist gripping onto his shirt.

"I know honey i know, almost over now" He said lovingly. He gripped onto your thigh a bit harder to steady you, and a blush rose to your cheeks. But at this point you didn't know if it was his hand placement or the pain. He let go of you and pulled the cotton away, you let out a sigh. He started clearing the counter top and you had time to debrief. "Thank you." You said looking up at him with doe like eyes. He could have sworn he was about to crumble then and there. He knew he was in trouble, thinking like that. Wrong couldn't begin to describe his thoughts and fantasies he'd been having recently. You were his best friends daughter, and not to mention way too young for him.

"Don't worry about it. let me get you some dry clothes and ill make you some tea" he said trying not to make eye contact. He stepped away from you and walked out the door and into his bedroom.

You hopped off the counter and hung up the towel on the back of the door. You caught yourself into into the mirror and grimaced, the bruise under your eye was shining under the light, you felt it throbbing, but decided to try and ignore the pain. you heard rustling from the bedroom, and you made your way over.

"Here i have a shirt and some shorts you can wear." He said as he heard you creep in. "Thank you, really" You said shyly.

"Please don't apologise, you have no need to" He said looking down at you. With that, he left you to get changed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You made your way downstairs, his shirt dangling above your knees. You were glad he gave you some socks because the floor was cold laminate under your feet. You walked into the kitchen and saw Joel brewing two cups of tea. "Hey, feeling a little better?" He said turning to you. "Yeah thanks, i feel kind of stupid though" You said as you leaned against the counter.

"Hey, you have nothing to feel stupid about. You didn't do anything wrong." He said as he leaned against the opposite counter. He stared down at you in is shirt, damn, it was getting harder to hide his thoughts. "Here, this will help" He handed you the tea and you took a sip. "Thank you" you said for the hundredth time.

"Come on, lets watch something" He said smiling as he strolled over to the living room. You followed after him, you had spent so much time with Joel in the past, but here in a dark room in his shirt, it feels different.

"Now this is a good one" he picked up a DVD box and showed you. "scream? sure" You said with a small smile. It was fitting, the storm outside, the fire, the film, "And... here we go" he said interrupting your thoughts and throwing a blanket over the two of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half way through the movie, your feet were placed on Joel's lap. you though he would mind, but he didn't seem to care. Your tea was finished and you were feeling tired. All the adrenaline had worn off now. You could feel your eyes drooping slightly, and you could have sworn you felt something on your leg. you looked down to see Joel's hand on your leg rubbing up and down. Suddenly, you weren't so tired anymore. Your eyes fluttered open and you sat up a bit. He didn't stop though, he smoothed over your skin and you could feel slight wetness in your underwear. This is ridiculous, you thought, he's barely touching you. And just like that, his hand made it's way up to your thigh. Your heart rate increased rapidly.

"You okay?" He said looking over at you.

"Yeah fine, just a little tired" You said sheepishly. You sat up fully and he did the same. He stared into your eyes, and you felt mesmerised.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" He said, trying to be a gentleman and not let his intrusive thoughts take over.

"Actually, i think i locked myself out the house. can i stay here for the night?" He almost let out a breath of relief. Not wanting to lose himself, he just nodded "Sure".

"Thanks" You stared at each other for a minute, breathing to calm yourselves.

"I'm sorry, about what happened to you. I swear, i wish i could kill him. But i want to make sure you're okay first." He said sternly and you let out a small giggle.

"Well you've taken great care of me" You replied. He reached out his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind your ears. Your smile faded and you parted your lips. He was so... beautiful in this light.

He didn't quite know what he was doing. He was just so in the moment with you. "You know, we've known each other for so long, i hate seeing you hurt. it kills me" He says. His hand finds yours and he holds it. Warmth floods your body and he stares into your soul with his big brown orbs. "I wish i could take care of you all of the time. i just feel like i have to protect you" he states as he plays around with your hand.

What was he implying? or are you just reading too much into this? Your thoughts flew out your head when he reached his hand to you thigh. Butterflies roam your stomach once more. You stay silent, not wanting to ruin the moment, but your breath quickens. His hand rubs your thigh slightly and your heart feels like its going to explode out your chest.

"You don't have to protect me, but its nice that you want to" You say quietly with a small smile on your face. He lights up, and he edges closer to you. He smiles a little,

"let me protect you" He says.

Your heart drops and you feel him grow closer and closer. You sit there like a statue, too much in shock to do anything. Is he about to... kiss you?

He leans in and grabs your face with both hands, and pulls you in. You close your eyes and he presses his lips to yours. Fireworks go off in your brain, and his too.

No, this isn't right, we can't do this. You pull away and get up off the sofa at the speed of light. "What are you doing? y-you can't do that. it's wrong" you say pacing in front of him. He leans forward on his knees and puts his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that. please forgive me" He says mumbling a little. You look at him with furrowed brows.

"I'm sorry, this is all my fault i shouldn't have come"

"No please this is my fault, let me make it up to you" He stands up and comes close to you again. You don't step away, you wanted him to kiss you again so badly. You wanted him to do all sorts of things to you, but you didn't want to complicate things. Maybe, this wouldn't be so bad? Maybe you could kiss him one more time?

He placed a hand on your face, "please forgive me". you put your hand on his, and closed your eyes.

"I just don't want to ruin anything" You said.

"You could never"

And with that you leaned up and kissed him so hard he almost fell back from the force. He grabbed at your waist and pulled you in. You were kissing each other like your lives depended on it, both fulfilling a craving that had been going on for far too long. Your hands made their way to his fluffy curls and pulled slightly earning a rough groan from him, it was like music to your ears. He lifted your legs up and hoisted you onto his waist.

he walked over to the couch, breathily talking in between kissing, "Fuck... i'm in trouble."

He plopped you both down onto the couch, and you straddled him. He leaned his head back as you kissed him deeply, and he grabbed at your thighs and worked his way up your ass. You wined and groaned turning you both on even more.

You pulled away for a moment to undo his shirt buttons. He grabbed your hand and you paused. "Are you sure?" He asked looking up at you.

"Yes"

He lifted you and rolled you over so you were underneath him, he ripped off his shirt and yours followed. You ran your hand up his chest, taking his body in. He was happy to see you bra-less under his shirt. You went back to kissing and he worked your shorts off of your body. Then he paused and looked down at you.

"God, you're so beautiful"

You weren't sure this was even happening, it was all so surreal. He started to undo his belt and un-zipped his pants, he pulled down his trousers ever so slightly, enough to let his cock spring out. Your eyes widened and you audibly gulped, you wondered how you would get that thing inside you. He smirked at your reaction and grabbed your hips. He flipped you around so you were on all fours, and his hand came down on your ass, hard. You let out a yelp, from the pleasure.

"It's okay baby girl, i wont hurt you, i'm gonna make you feel so good" He growled. Your cheeks warmed and a small smile came to your face. You wouldn't care if he hurt you, you'd let him do anything to you.

He pulled his trousers off all the way and ran his finger along your clothed folds. "All of this for me baby? So wet. Lets get you warmed up" He pulled your underwear down and slid them off you, you shivered at his touch. You thought you could cum just from the way he looked at you.

Another light slap came down on your ass and you wobbled slightly. He ran his fingers down your folds once more and you let out a moan. "Please Joel, i need you" You said in a whisper tone.

He listened and pushed one of his fingers inside you. You let out a moan and pleasure took over your body. He pumped back and forth and added a finger as he went. Your head was spinning, this man was your neighbour, your dads best friend. But he's making you feel so good.

He drew his fingers out of you, and pushed your head down onto the couch. Your butt was up in the air and you felt so exposed.

"You look so good baby" His words reassured you, and his hand rubbed your ass and up your back. "You're gonna take this dick so well for me aren't you baby girl?"

"Yes daddy" - You stopped, words caught in your throat. Your eyes widened. You didn't mean to say that it just slipped out. What's he going to think? You thought about how you'd just ruined the whole thing, until,

"That's right baby, say it again." He growled.

You were even more shocked than before, he liked it? You liked it too, a little too much.

"Yes daddy" You said again, making him grunt. He wasted no more time dragging his cock down your pussy and lining it up with your hole. Your breath hitched in your throat, nervous about his size.

"Take some deep breaths baby, don't be nervous." You tried to listen and do what he said, and took some breaths, but it was hard to stay calm. He pushed his member slowly into you, inch by inch. You let out an audible gasp. "Fuck baby, you're so tight" He purred. You took it so well and tried not to move, there was slight pain at first but he moved slowly and the pleasure overcame the pain.

You were both a moaning hot mess, he reached over and grabbed a fistful of your hair, holding your head back which only made you moan more. His other hand dug into your hip, forcing you back with every thrust. He pounded into you hard and fast, he was worried he wouldn't hold out for long.

"You're loosening up baby, that's a good girl"... FUCK, how would you last if he kept talking like that? The sound of him slapping against you was so loud. He was rough with you, pounding into you harshly. His cock filled you up so well, and your legs turned into jelly as he slammed into you. You were screaming out like you never had before. Joel held a proud smirk, making you moan like that was a trophy to him. He let go of your hair and slowly pulled out of you, grabbing both hips and flipping you over onto you back. Before you could move, he grabbed your throat and held you down as he slipped his cock back into you. You were whining again in no time. He pounded into you and you grabbed onto his strong arms for support.

"Fuck Joel, it feels so good." You stated, and his hand tightened on your throat. Hearing his name come out your mouth like that was like hearing his favourite song.

"That's right baby, you're doing so well." He said back. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he came down to your level. He moved his hand up to your jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips and swirled around your mouth. "Open wide" He said, pulling away for a split second. You did as he asked, not sure what was coming next. He brought his mouth to yours and spit into it. "Swallow" He stated, You did as you were told, enjoying the dominance of it. His spit slid down your throat and you shivered in pleasure.

He pulled you up and you straddled him, never leaving your pussy. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and he started lifting you up and down his cock. You helped him a little, moving your body. Your fingers fell into his hair, and his face softened. You pressed you forehead against his and he looked into your eyes, his hands pulled you in closer to his body. His lips made their way to your neck, kissing, sucking, biting creating a mark near your collar bone.

"What would your dad say? if he saw us right now. If he saw me fucking his little girl." You knew it shouldn't, but it got you so close. This was filthy, and he knew it too. But the way it made you moan, he knew it did something to you.

"God, I'm so close daddy, i can't hold it much longer" You said looking at him with watery eyes.

"Good girl, when you feel it, i want you to ask me for permission okay?"

"Yes daddy"

He got into a better position and threw you under him, taking your throat in his hand yet again. He looked into your eyes as he thrusted hard, he was so deep, hitting your G spot every time. Then you saw his hand glide down to your clit, rubbing in circles. Euphoria took over your body and you couldn't hold it anymore.

"Please, can i cum daddy? i can't hold it." You squeaked.

"Just a little longer baby girl, i'm almost there" His words didn't help, they just brought you closer. You could feel that familiar feeling grow in your abdomen. But you held back as long as you could.

"Please daddy... let me cum" He grabbed your throat harder, making you light headed. He thrusted even quicker, not thinking it was possible. You could hear both of you breathing, moaning, whining.

"That's my girl, take it." He said, looking deep into your eyes. "You can cum for me baby girl. Cum all over daddy's cock."

That sent you over the edge, his fingers getting rougher on your clit, you relaxed and let your orgasm rush over you. He quickly placed a hand over your mouth as you screamed. You felt his thrusts get sloppy, and he grunted over and over again. The next thing you felt was hot liquid spirting into you. You both started to slow as your orgasms came to a stop. He removed his hand and placed it under your head, lifting you up to his mouth as he placed a deep kiss your mouth.

Your fingers ran through his hair and he pulled out of you slowly. "Come here baby girl, let's get you cleaned up". God, he did everything so right. He pulled his trousers back on and picked you up, your arms fell around his neck. You stared at his features on your way to the bathroom. He was so beautiful, you wished you could have done this sooner, instead of wasting time with someone else. You were still in complete shock that this was real.

He placed you on the side of the bathtub and wiped you down with tissue and wipes. You were so sensitive, it made you shiver. "Sorry baby" He said, noticing the sensitivity. He grabbed the towel you had used earlier and dried you. Once he was finished, he pick you back up and took you to his bed.

"Here, put these on" He handed you some of his pyjamas, and you threw them on. He got into a a pair himself. "You look so cute in my clothes" He said wit a smile on hi face and drew closer to you.

"You look so cute in your clothes too" You laughed. His smile stayed on his face as he guided you to the bed.

"Lets get some sleep baby girl, we have a busy morning tomorrow" He said, both of you lying down.

"We do?" You asked, confused.

"Yeah, we gotta figure out a way to keep this a secret from your dad" He said with a laugh. You looked at him, smiling.

"I won't tell if you won't" You said, stroking a finger across his beard. He pulled you in, closer than you've ever been. You could smell his cologne, along with his natural scent. It was heaven. You never in a million years thought you would be in Joel Millers bed... cuddling.

"Get some sleep baby girl" He cooed, and you wrapped round his body. He seemed to enjoy it, and pulled you closer. Soon enough, you both drifted to sleep in each others arms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part 2?

[bellascool]

Hey! An enemies to lovers with gavi?

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

thanks for requesting bae 💕

masterlist

request on my profile

posted : 14/02/23 (European date)

He hates you so why does he keeps stopping you from fucking other guys?

WARNINGS : cussing, slightly sexual content (smut)

"Can't you just shut the fuck up for once?" Pablo said to you as you were talking to your friend Pedri

"Mind your own damn business Gavira, I'm talking to my friend" you replied back giving him a death stare which caused him to loudly sigh

You and Pablo actually hated each other. It started in high school when that bitch always made fun of you for the slightest reason.

At first you didn't pay attention but then, it became really annoying having to listen to him judge you all day.

"Y/n are you listening to me?" Pedri asked next to you

"Oh uh no sorry I was thinking of something else" you apologized

"Of course she didn't listen, she never does" the golden boy said next to you

"Shut up no one asked" you replied with the same attitude

"I asked if you wanted to come to my friend's party tonight?" Pedri asked smiling

"Oh sure, I mean I really need to chill out if you know what I mean" you playfully said as you both laughed, Pablo didn't say anything this time which was weird

"Nice, now I have to be seen with a bitch who just wants to be fucked all night by some random dudes" he finally said making you mad

"Oh my god! Can't you just shut the fuck up for once, like LITERALLY. I fuck who I want you ain't my dad" you almost yelled before getting up and leaving the backyard still angry

He definitely crossed the line.

-

You put on your red dress who revealed your perfect curves, it was short but still comfortable enough to wear it. You did your makeup and put on some red lipstick, wanted to look as slutty as possible just to make Pablo mad.

After finishing your makeup and putting on your heels, you grabbed your purse and went outside where Pedri and Pablo were waiting for you, parked in front of your apartment.

You hopped in the back and kissed Pedri's cheek, leaving a lipstick mark.

"Thanks for inviting me again!" you said while doing a little dance

"You're so embarrassing" the young boy said making Pedri laugh while he drove to the place

"Shut up or I'll kiss you everywhere so you have lipstick marks" you jokingly threatened

"Do it and you'll never be able to see the light again" he threatened back with a smirk

"Bet." you were about to kiss his cheek but Pedri had to interrupt

"I'm sorry to interrupt but we're there" he said while getting out of the car followed by you and the other bitch

It was a big ass luxury mansion, you could hear people laughing and music from there.

"I'm going to meet my people, I just know it!" you said before entering the mansion while dancing with your shoulders

You immediately went to the kitchen to grab a drink but bumped into someone who spilled some of their drink on your covered chest

"Gosh I'm so sorry I didn't see you!" it was a tall man, he was really good looking, dark skinned, tall, perfect face features "please let me help you dry yourself" he apologized again

"It's fine, I should've looked where I was walking. I'm Y/n by the way" you said with a smile which he returned

"I'm Jude, nice to meet you" he had a british accent  which made you go crazy down here

He finally took your hand and went to a door next to the living room. It was the bathroom.

"Sit on the sink while I help you dry your pretty dress" he said with a smirk, you could already feel your panties get soaked while you did what he asked

"By the way I like your ring" you randomly said, cursing yourself for being so embarrassing

"Thanks beautiful" he replied back after grabbing a little towel and getting in front of you, gently pulling your legs apart so he can stand between them

Your breath was heavier and you could feel a tension when he started to slowly dry your skin, his eyes looked in your covered chest.

You didn't even notice you both leaning in but as you were about to kiss, the door swung open, making you stop what you started.

"I can't believe it! While Pedri and I were searching everywhere for you, you were getting fucked in the bathroom!" you recognized Pablo's voice and it made you 100 times angrier

You stood up, grabbed Jude's hand and walked past him, not giving a single look in his direction.

"I fuck who I want!" you yelled before going to the kitchen with your new friend "I'm sorry about him, he's always like that" you apologized

"It's fine, he's probably just protective" the man said behind you

You grabbed drinks for both of you as you started a deep conversation, feeling a gaze on your back.

Minutes passed and many, many drinks were consumed, everything was fine until Jude suddenly sighed

"y/n, you're a beautiful person like really but I don't think that I should be the one talking with you right now" he said before pointing Pablo who looked at you with a strange look.

It was a mix of anger, sadness and jealousy?

Nah you're crazy y/n, you thought to yourself.

I mean, he's Pablo Gavi, THE Pablo Gavi who absolutely hates you.

You turned to Jude and smiled a little before wrapping your arms around his neck while his found a way around your waist.

You finally pulled off and he left not before saying goodbye.

Man, you really loved talking to him and now you were all alone.

Not knowing what else to do, you poured yourself a drink, then a second, a third and-

Oh well you didn't even count anymore, all you knew was that you were drunk as fuck.

You started dancing with random people before bumping into a chest.

"Oh no not again" you mumbled as you tried to go away but stopped when you recognized the scent of the person you hated

"Y/n, there you are" he said grabbing firmly your waist

He looked as drunk as you were but you didn't care.

You both smiled to each other as you bounced your hips to the beat.

Pablo squeezed your hips, pulling you closer to him so your bodies were now glued.

Your arms around his neck, you gently put your head on his shoulder, still dancing.

"You look pretty y'know" he started with a smirk making you look at him

"You think so?" you asked with the same tone

"Your dress fits you perfectly but.." he marked a pause to slowly lick his lips, you could already feel yourself getting wet "you'd look even prettier without" he whispered in your ear making you shiver

"You should see to know" you whispered back

He didn't even hesitate to press his lips against yours, ruining your lipstick as his tongue found a way to meet yours.

The kiss was heated and soon enough, you felt something poke your lower stomach.

You broke the kiss, smirking as you took his hand and went outside.

The fresh air hit your face, helping you sober up but you still didn't regret kissing him.

You both stopped and you quickly ordered an uber since you weren't in the state to drive.

You leaned against the wall, still holding hands.

"Did you mean it?" you asked, turning your head to see him as he did the same

"Mean what?"

"All the messed up things you said to me" your question made him sigh as he looked down

"Y'know, I never meant anything, I guess I was just too scared to admit that I loved someone" he said not proud of himself

"You love me?" you asked confused

"How can I not love you?" he looked deep into your eyes

You smiled and leaned over to connect your lips but broke it before it could become heated.

Your uber arrived and you both hoped in the back of the car.

His hand was on your thigh and his pinky finger kept stroking it, slowly going upward.

-

As soon as you closed the door of your apartment, he pinned you on the wall, pressing his wet lips against yours as you put your arms around his neck.

His hands found a way to your hips, giving them a squeeze, making you jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

He didn't wast any time and went to your room, closing the door with his foot.

If anyone told you 2 days ago that you would be making out with your enemy, you would have laughed in their face.

[lovesickonmybed]

all you had to do was stay | (1/?)

eddie Munson x OC | chapter 2 | series masterlist

summary | vivian and eddie were best friends until he betrayed her. she decided to get revenge, but it went too far.

word count | 4,156.

warnings | swearing, alcohol, underage drinking, sexual content, themes of abandonment, smoking, and bullying.

a/n | i don't have anyone to edit for me or anything like that before posting so please feel free to give me some feedback about this first chapter!! also listen to all you had to do was stay (taylor's version) while reading this!

Nobody spends their spring break praying for it to be over…except maybe for me. I used to spend my spring breaks at Eddie Munson’s trailer playing D&D and listening to whatever metal albums we had all put enough money together to buy. Now I spend them at endless parties praying that whatever is in my cup will be enough to drown out my hatred for the people I now surround myself with. I would kill to be back at Eddie’s trailer playing D&D and listening to Black Sabbath, I would kill to be anywhere but Lovers Lake with a beer I didn’t even want in my hand.

Eddie became my best friend in 6th grade when I moved to Hawkins. Back then, I was pretty awkward and pretty angry at absolutely everything. My dear old dad had packed up everything and left me and my mom to try to survive on our own, so we moved back to my mom’s hometown of Hawkins, Indiana. It was nothing compared to back home in New York. I hated it, I hated my dad, I hated everything. But then I met someone who understood my anger, someone who knew exactly how I felt. His name was Eddie Munson. He was dorky as shit but also the coolest kid I had ever met. His hair was buzzed, he wore band tees, and he hung out with a girl who was just as cool as him. Veronica Ecker, or just Ronnie for short. She was tall with dark hair and a baseball cap she refused to ever take off. 

I remember walking in on my first day of 6th grade at Hawkins Middle. I was oh so lucky to be a new student on Halloween day. Everyone was in costume, I was just in an orange sweater and black jeans. I couldn’t afford a costume and we had thrown out all my old ones in the move. We couldn’t bring too much with us to Hawkins. There were already rumors about me before I had even stepped foot on school grounds. Rumors that I moved there because I got kicked out of every school in New York for starting fights. Another rumor spread that I was somebody from a government experiment that they had planned to plant at the school for research. It’s impressive just how creative 6th graders can get. The truth was too boring for them and nobody had cared to hear it, well, not nobody. Eddie Munson had waltzed up to me as I sat on the bleachers, he was wearing a pair of devil horns, a big grin spread across his face. “You’re the new girl, right?” He had asked.

“If you’re gonna ask me about the rumors then they’re both true and you should definitely avoid me,” I said sarcastically. I couldn’t help being defensive after having kids whisper about me all day, giggling to one another about how weird I was.

“Nah, they’re bullshit. You don’t look like you could win any fights against anybody,” Eddie joked.

I liked him from that very moment.

“You don’t know that, I bet I could take you, shrimp,” I joked back. It was the first time in a while that I had smiled, the first time in a while there was anything in my eyes besides anger.

“You know, maybe you could…but just think of all the people we could take on as a team,” he smiled. His smile is infectious and the grin on my face got even wider.

“You’re right…we’d be a great team…I’m Viv, by the way,” I said, sticking out my hand for him to shake. I had cracked royal blue nail polish on my nails and a variety of different rings I had found in my mom’s things littered both hands. His hands weren’t much different than mine, his nails had clearly been chewed short and he also had his own assortment of rings.

“Eddie, Eddie Munson…” 

From that moment on we were friends. He introduced me to Ronnie and then in 7th grade we met Dougie and he joined our group. We had all even performed together in our school's talent show. They had me on vocals because I couldn't play any instruments and I would say that I killed it but half of Hawkins wanted us dead or expelled after that so maybe it’s for the best if I forget it ever happened. Or if I forget that anything had ever happened with that group at all. It’s so strange to know that the people who had taken me in and became my first friends here are the ones who hate me most now. I can’t say I blame them though…

When high school started we were all losers, I mean we were losers in middle school too but it became even more obvious once we hit high school. Jocks hated Eddie and Dougie, targeting them constantly. The cheerleaders and preppy girls had it out for me and Ronnie as well. Nothing says ‘Loser’ like getting trash dumped on you or having to memorize your friends' locker combinations for every time they were stuffed into their own locker and needed you to get them out. For all of Freshman and Sophomore year, I was called ‘Pizza Face’ or told that I was ‘flat as an ironing board’ y’know just all the best things you could say to a deeply insecure teenage girl whose hormones had favored developing acne over developing breasts. 

We had taken our love for D&D with us into high school and created a safe haven for people like us, the freaks and the outcasts. Eddie called them his ‘lost little sheep’ and it became his mission to find them…but it turns out a lot of those other freaks and outcasts had believed the lies fed to them about D&D being satanic so attendance was lacking. Nonetheless, we had somewhere we felt safe and it was exactly what we needed. Eddie became our leader, which sadly meant he’d get the most shit from bullies like Tommy H. 

There was nobody worse than Tommy H. His father owned the biggest and most successful car dealership in town. On top of that, he was also a star athlete (which is shocking considering how awful he is at pretty much everything I’ve ever witnessed him do) and that meant he could get away with whatever he wanted. He’d always go after Eddie, he’d start shit with him and then go crying to Principal Higgins about how Eddie had started it and there started Eddie’s record of so-called bad behavior. Being a Munson means it’s practically impossible to do anything and not get shit for it, Tommy knew this and used it to his advantage. He used Eddie as a punching bag and would get away with it, hell most of the time Eddie was the one taking the blame when Tommy would walk away without a scratch on him. And all of this makes me hate myself even more for what I did to Eddie…what I did to all of them…

It was the summer right before the start of junior year. I had been in New York visiting family for June and most of July. I had called Eddie almost every day to let him know about my trip, I did leave out a few key details though…the details of how I had gotten my braces off, how I had finally found something that fixed my acne problems, and most importantly I kept it a secret that I had finally started to develop. I had always had a bit of a crush on Eddie, as we had gotten older it had only gotten worse. I’ve never been good with relationships, my first kiss came from a game of Spin the Bottle in 8th grade. It was awkward, messy, and something I’d pay thousands to erase from the minds of all who witnessed it. I had a boyfriend at one point too, I’d use the term boyfriend very loosely though. It was Charlie Stump, he was a loser like me and we ‘dated’ Freshman year. Our relationship consisted of holding hands and sharing one kiss before he broke it off because he thought metal music was satanic. He was just something to fill the void that I had hoped Eddie would fill instead.

Ronnie had told me about the time Eddie had tried to kiss her when they were 13, I remember wishing it had been me instead, I would’ve let him kiss me whenever he had wanted. Me and Eddie were complicated…we were flirty with one another but whenever someone would address it we’d both claim it was a joke. I lied every single time. I cherished every single touch I got from him, they all felt electric. I cherished every time we’d hold hands to cross the street or to lead one another through a crowd, I cherished the kisses he’d give me on the cheek or forehead whenever I had saved his ass from his bullies, I cherished how he’d hold me against him when we’d watch horror movies. I was never really scared, but he never had to know that. I was lovestruck, but I knew he’d never feel the same. I saw how certain girls would catch his eye, preppy cheerleaders, good girls, girls that were nothing like me. Girls with perfect skin, perfect teeth, perfect bodies, perfect lives. I couldn’t compare. 

When I had finally started to look like the girls that caught his eye I was overjoyed. It was stupid, I felt good because I thought I would finally have a chance with my best friend. My best friend who had been designated as the freak of Hawkins High. His house was my first stop when I returned from my trip to New York. It was late but his trailer was only about a mile from the apartment complex I lived in with my mother. I had put on my best outfit, something that would surely make him swoon. It was a black denim dress, it buttoned up and the skirt flared out at the bottom, it was cute. I had even learned to do nicer makeup when I was visiting my cousins. I switched out my heavy eyeliner for something more soft and subtle. Something that girls that he likes would wear. I walked over with a smile on my face and hope in my heart. This would be the night I would win him over…or so I thought. 

When I arrived at the Munson residence I was met with the site of an unfamiliar car parked in front of the trailer. It was way too nice to belong to Wayne or Eddie, it was out of place for Forest Hills Trailer Park. My heart was beating faster as I became anxious. Every step I took towards his door felt heavy, it was like my body was slowly becoming filled with lead. I took a deep breath and I finally was at his door. I knocked and waited. It took him a minute to answer the door and when he did I was shocked. He was shirtless and his hair was a mess, there were a few hickeys scattered across his neck and collarbones, he looked hot. But once I got over how good he looked I was overtaken by jealousy. It looks like somebody beat me to it.

“Holy shit…I was not expecting you, Viv,” He chuckled. He was almost unaware of his appearance, unaware that it’s pretty obvious what he’d been doing. 

“I-I just got back into town…I wanted to surprise you…I guess you’re busy…”

Before Eddie could respond I saw a girl walk up behind him, I recognized her instantly and became filled with rage. Nicole fucking Summers. The goddamned bitch who had been tormenting me since 6th grade, she was the one who made up the rumors about me moving to Hawkins for getting expelled from every school in New York. She’s the one who cut off a chunk of my hair in 7th grade, the one who told everyone I still wore a training bra in 8th grade. She was the one who started calling me ‘Pizza Face’ in Freshman year, going as far as to get all her friends to throw slices of pizza at me at lunch. Sophomore year she had stolen my clothes after gym when I was in the shower and I was forced to find them in just my underwear. Out of anyone he could’ve fucked, out of anyone he could’ve lost his virginity to why the fuck did it have to be her. Sure his options are slim but I was right there. 

I was beyond stunned when she began to speak. “Vivi, is that you? You look…different. I guess you grew out of your ugly duckling phase, huh?” She teased. She was in one of Eddie’s shirts, her makeup smeared and her neck was covered in hickeys just like Eddie’s. It took everything in me to not break both of their noses right then and there. 

“I’m just gonna go. Clearly, you’re busy,” I spat out at Eddie. He was lucky I was holding back my anger. I didn’t even let him respond before I was marching off and away from his door, once I was a far enough distance away I started to run. I screamed and I cried and I ran all the way home. My mascara burned my eyes but I ignored it. Eddie’s betrayal had hurt me worse than anything physical ever could. He didn’t notice that I changed, he didn’t care, he fucked the girl who had made my life miserable. At the time I didn’t know it was a one-time thing. She had wanted to brag to her friends about ‘taking the freaks virginity before his loser little friend got a chance.’ 

I locked myself in my room for days, I was beyond angry. I wanted to tear them both apart and then put them back together again so that I could do it all over again. I didn’t know what to think and I didn’t know what to do…until I did. I ignored any calls from Eddie, Ronnie, or Dougie. I told my mom that if they came looking for me to tell them I was sick. I couldn’t face any of them, if I did I wouldn’t have been able to hold myself back. I devised a plan, a plan to get Nicole back for fucking Eddie and one to get Eddie back for fucking Nicole. It was a plan that would go too far for too long. The few times I had gone out in public I had overheard something about there being a party at Steve Harrington's house. His parents were always gone and he hung out with just the people I needed for my plan. 

On a Saturday night in August, I found myself on the front doorstep of the Harrington residence. I was in an almost sheer blouse, my lacy red bra showing through the material, and a mini skirt, it was nothing like I had ever worn before. My makeup and hair were perfect, I knew what these guys liked, it was exactly what Eddie liked. I took a deep breath before waltzing in, heads turning as soon as I walked in the door. I had never been to a party before and I had certainly never looked like this before. “Do you have a staring problem or something, Caleb?” I asked one of Tommy’s cronies. He was closest to me and a perfect target for my plan.

His eyes were glued to me, raking up and down my body slowly. “When Nicole said you got hot I thought she was kidding…” He said as he licked his lips. I rolled my eyes and walked towards the kitchen to find something to drink. 

As I made my way into the kitchen I bumped into none other than Steve Harrington himself. He did a double-take when he saw me. “Holy shit…w-what are you doing here?”

“Can’t a girl go to a party, Harrington?” I replied. He was still sputtering and his face was all red, it felt great to fluster a man like this for once in my life. 

“B-But…you…you’re-”

“I’m what? I’m a loser? An outcast? A freak? Not anymore, Harrington.”

He cleared his throat and got a hold of himself, “Where’s Munson? Aren't you two inseparable or something?”

“Not anymore…I umm…let’s just say I outgrew him.” I was totally bullshitting. 

“Really?” Steve asked. He was looking at me the same way that Caleb was when I walked in. 

“Really. Now do you mind showing me where you’ve got some vodka, I really need a drink.” What I needed was liquid courage, courage for the idiotic bullshit I planned to do that night. Steve led me to the vodka and I took a shot, and then another. I was on a mission but fuck I needed that to be able to succeed. 

I look over at Steve and bat my eyelashes, “Hey, Stevie, do you know where Tommy’s at?”

He scratches the back of his neck as he tries to think, “Last I saw him he was outside in the pool.”

I get on my tip toes and kiss him on the cheek, “Thanks, Stevie.” His face is flushed when I walk off to go find Tommy. It doesn’t take me long, he’s lounging on one of the pool chairs with a beer in his hand. He’s not somebody I find particularly attractive but I’ll have to fake it for my plan. I smile down at him. “Hey Tommy,” I say as I bite my lip. He looks up at me with wide eyes that get even wider as he takes in my appearance. 

“No fucking way…Nicole wasn’t lying…” He’s taking his time to admire me, I hate how his eyes feel on me.

“It’s amazing what a few months can do, huh? Do you…do you mind if I sit down with you?” I bat my eyelashes at him and he crumbles beneath my gaze. 

“Be my guest…” His eyes are glued to my body, more specifically my chest. 

“So, how was your summer?” I ask, I sit across from him with my legs uncrossed, he has a perfect view of my lacy little thong. It’s red and leaves barely anything to the imagination, it’s ideal for a creep like him. His eyes trail down to the spot between my legs and he smirks.

“It would’ve been a lot better had I known you were spending it turning into this, fuck…” He groans. I’ve got him right where I want him.

“It’s amazing what a summer away from Munson could do to a girl,” I giggle. It feels awful coming out of my mouth, worse than the vodka taste going down. 

“You’re done with him, huh? Wanted to join where you should’ve been the whole time…fuck if we had gotten our hands on you sooner just imagine what you would be Vivian…” He marvels, “I knew you weren’t like them…like those freaks. Bet Munson dragged you into all that satanic shit, you’re better than that, better than him…” Tommy rambles. 

“He did…I-I’m not like that anymore,” I lie through my fucking teeth.

“Yeah? You a good girl now?” Tommy teases. 

“I am…can I show you just how good I am, Tommy?” I flirt. 

“Harrington’s got a guest room upstairs that’ll be perfect, baby. Think of it as your initiation into the good side,” Tommy says. I think he’s exaggerating that last part, that he’s being dramatic, but after what we did that night he had no plans of ever letting me return to Eddie again.

In Sex ED they don’t tell you how needy a guy can be after a one-night stand. This was supposed to be a one-time thing that would get spread around to Eddie so that he’d hurt as bad as he had hurt me. But instead, Tommy got attached, and I became his little project. He planned to mold me into his little homecoming queen. And Eddie…Eddie was more than hurt, he hated me. I can’t blame him, I hated myself for it. I expected an angry phone call or an aggressive confrontation but instead, I was met with radio silence, not only from him but from every single one of my old friends. I went too far and had no other choice than to stay with my new ‘friends’. On the first day of Junior year I walked into school a completely different person. People had heard about my transformation and they had also heard about me hooking up with Tommy, I was already the talk of the school and first period hadn’t even started. When I said that Tommy planned to turn me into his little homecoming queen I wasn’t kidding. He made Tina and Carol take me shopping at the goddamn Gap. They picked me out new outfits, told me how to do my hair, who to talk to, what music to listen to, who to be. The worst part is that I kind of…liked it. I liked how I looked in my new outfits, I liked how my hair framed my face, hell I even liked the music they picked out. It turns out Madonna isn’t too bad when you don’t have somebody trying to shove down your throat that enjoying her music is the worst crime someone could commit. 

So on the first day of school I walked in wearing a pink turtleneck, a light washed denim skirt, and a pair of knee high white boots. I felt pretty, I felt confident, I felt fucking amazing. Well I did until I saw my locker. Eddie had taken the liberty of breaking into the school and defacing my locker, in blood red spray paint the word ‘TRAITOR’ had been written for all to see. It didn’t take a genius to know it was him. He watched me walk up to it with a proud smile on his face, leaning against the lockers right across from mine. Ronnie and Dougie were beaming with him. I was raging, I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted to yell that he was the traitor for what he did with Nicole Summers, but instead I walked up to him and simply said, “The same could be said for you. At least I wasn’t a pity fuck.” That set him off. Before I know it he’s dragging me down the hall by my arm and into the janitor's closet, he slams me against the wall and for a second I smile. Maybe in some other universe he’s dragging me in here to confess his feelings for me and to kiss me, not in this one though, in this one I ruined any chance of that I could’ve possibly had.

He glares at me like he wants me dead and I’m sure he does. He has me pinned against the wall, his face only inches from mine as he begins to speak. “You may have new friends and a new look but you’ll always be a fucking loser!” He spits. It’s an anger I’ve only heard reserved for people like Tommy. “Your new friends used to treat you like you were nothing, don’t think they won’t drop you once they get bored of you. They’ll throw you out and you’ll have nobody because you burned any bridges you could’ve had back to us. You’re fucking pathetic, Vivian.” Eddie spits in my face and walks out, leaving me to process really how bad I had fucked up. He’s right, but I can’t go back now. I don’t have that choice anymore, I lost my chance when Tommy unbuttoned my blouse upstairs at the party. 

So here I am, senior year, still unfortunately friends with Tommy, Carol, and Tina. Carol had the grand idea of throwing a party at Lover’s Lake and was ready to have my head if I skipped out on one more party this week. I didn’t bother showing up in a swimsuit, I have no intentions of swimming. I’m in a red tight fitting t-shirt, black denim cutoffs that show off way more of my ass than my friends thought was acceptable, and a pair of beat up black converse. I’m standing away from most of the crowd sipping on a beer that tastes like actual piss and regretting giving into Carol's whining about how I just had to come tonight. I scan the crowd and attempt to pick out somebody who I might not hate spending my night with when I see him. He’s in a white t-shirt, ripped light wash jeans, and a pair of boots. His hair is tied up and he’s lighting a cigarette. Fuck.

[jackdaniel69nice]

@kaytaygay Asked for some todoroki and tokoyami so here you go~

To get right down to the meat of it todoroki and tokoyami are very similar, they can seem cold or unfeeling and then turn to just as hot and rageful, although dark shadow is more angry then Fumikage. Their odd ways of speaking makes them stand out and they can be overly blunt. They both have experience in restraining parts of themself, specifically their quirks but also their feeling. Finally they have a connection, as Fumi points outs, as being the successors of Endeavor and Hawks.

In the beginning of MHA todoroki was extremely closed off and never used his fire. For as much of a powerful presence he had, Fumi and shadow had very little interaction with him he and didn’t register him as a threat. Once todoroki started using his fire he also opening up and that cold demeanor disappeared. I would imagine their friendship started through small interactions that showed their similarities and opened up for a closer relationship.

Tokoyami sits right in front of todoroki in class so it’s easy for them to speak to each other, especially for dark shadow because they wouldn’t get caught by the teacher. Todoroki was more confused by a sentient quirk than most people due to his lack of socialization but that is also what made it so easy to move past. He just assumed this was some other thing he had no idea about that was completely normal and rolled with it. Dark shadow gets so bored in class and will pester todoroki if they can slip past Fumi. It’s certainly noted that at first shadow was wary of shoto’s fire power, but shoto is such a calm presence they never felt like they were in any danger.

Conversations between fumikage and todoroki are simple and easy. They usually spend most their time together just enjoying each other’s company in silence. There are times one of them will go on a tangent about their interests and the other will listen happily. Dark shadow will often start a conversation when they are around and Todoroki enjoys dark shadows excitement. Todoroki doesn’t have many hobbies so he likes to join on games tokoyami and dark shadow will play like cards or board games, he gets really confused and loses every time but it’s still fun to watch shadow and Fumi bicker. I would have to say the best arrangement is when Midoriya is also part of their hang outs because you have two hyper characters and two calming ones and they even each other out. Tokoyami has to often play the parent tho and make sure the other three don’t get into trouble (he usually fails).

One of their conversations topics is their mentors . Both of them have big shoes to fill from endeavor and hawks and will talk about the future. Todoroki inevitably talks about how his dad treated him and tokoyami has to play therapist again (he likes helping his friends, it’s his calling). He understands the stress of having a strict parent who wants their child to perfect. He reminds todoroki that even if endeavor is trying to be better, that doesn’t make his past actions are ok and it’s normal to be angry about it. “Mental scars don’t heal so easily.” Todoroki likes asking tokoyami for advice after that. I do think shoto has panic attacks from ptsd and early on no one had any knowledge about this (eventually everyone will have ptsd but shush) except tokoyami and he immediately started grounding techniques for him. After tokoyami rescues hawks from dabi, he gets triggered by shotos flames and todoroki has to return the favor.

In general tokoyami and dark shadow are surprisingly close to todoroki because their personalities mesh so well (they are autistic your honor). By the time the provisional license roles around todoroki and tokoyami are good friends because in the survival training ova todoroki refers to him as such.

[justrambles]

Steve hates it when his parents fight.

It's been only a day since dad came back from his trip and they are already yelling at each other, mom accusing him of cheating on her while she was at home taking care of their child. They go on like this every time, while Steve just sits in the corner of his room waiting for the fight to stop.

But today Steve decides he's had enough. That's why he sneaks out of his room (it's not like they're gonna notice but,) and goes out into the woods. He's only been there a few times, but he's ten now and he thinks he can manage it.

That's how he ends up at Skull Rock, not Lover's Lake. It's not what he expected but Skull Rock is nice in it's own way, Steve guesses. He sits underneath the rock and listens to the sounds in the forest. He watches the ants crawl by, and it's somehow peaceful.

The peace is interrupted not long after.

"You're in my spot."

Steve snaps his head to find a boy with a nearly buzzed hair. He is shifting constantly, leaning from foot to foot, with an annoyed look on his face.

"This is not your spot, this is Skull Rock. It's everyone's spot," Steve counters.

"Wait, it's called Skull Rock? Huh, makes sense. It does look like a skull." The boy makes a pondering gesture, nodding to himself.

"If you don't even know the name of the place, how can it be your spot?"

This kid is unbelievable, Steve thinks, but the boy just grins and sits next to Steve.

"'You don't gotta have a name on it for it to be yours', that's what my old man said. Anyways, I'm only visiting here, so I haven't had a chance to learn the name yet. I'm Ed."

Steve tentatively views the hand reached out in front of him.

"Steve," he says with a handshake. "What do you mean you're only visiting? You're not from around?"

"Nope! I'm just staying with my uncle for a bit until my dad is out again."

"Out of where?"

"The big house of course, Stevie."

"I don't know what that means."

Ed's grin is wide again, and Steve is amused by how he is so full of expressions. Ed starts talking on about all the escapades he and his old man's been through (although they're mostly his dad's alone) and then moves onto some kind of fairytale with Mirkwood and Fangorn and all the other stuff Steve doesn't know about.

It's nice listening to him talk, and sometimes Ed asks for Steve's opinion and doesn't make fun of him when he can't come up with a smart response quickly enough. Steve likes talking to Ed, which is probably why he doesn't notice it's gotten dark.

It's late, and Steve's parents are gonna be so angry with him. He doesn't want to say goodbye to Ed, but the disappointed look on his mom scares him more. As if sensing Steve's thoughts, Ed looks around the forest too.

"It's getting late. My uncle's gonna be waiting for me. You ready to go home now, Stevie?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Mm-hm, except for one thing—," Ed looks a bit nervous, picking on his lips.

"What?"

"I don't know how to get there."

...Unbelievable. He's unbelievable.

"Well, how do you normally come here? Just go the opposite direction."

"Well, you see, I normally just wander through the forest until I reach here—or there, so there is no direction to go opposite. Didn't know I'd be staying late."

Hearing the last sentence, Steve does feel a bit bad because if Ed hadn't been talking to Steve, he might have gone home while the sun was still up. And he's new to the town, too, it must be more confusing.

"I can... take you there if you want?" Steve offers.

Ed beams at Steve's suggestion, nodding so wildly that Steve's worried he might get dizzy.

"Alright! Lead the way, big boy. To Forest Hills we go!"

Ed grabs Steve's hand, starts walking even though he's got no idea where he's going, and it makes Steve laugh. There's warmth blossoming in his chest and he holds on to that feeling throughout their walk out of the forest.

—

By the time Steve gets home (on a ride by Uncle Wayne 'cause that man was freaked out that a ten year old was roaming around on the streets in the night), it's really late and Steve's parents are very, very angry.

He's grounded for a month, and when he gets to Skull Rock after, he doesn't find Ed. But Ed did say that he was only staying in Hawkins for a bit, so Steve hopes that Ed's dad got out of that big house and he's with Ed now.

(He doesn't know that Al Munson was in serious trouble this time, unlikely to get out of prison for a long time.)

(He doesn't know that Ed Munson had to stay in the system until Wayne Munson could get full legal custody of the kid.)

(He doesn't know that the sullen new kid in the grade above him—who the teachers whisper about— is the boy he met once at Skull Rock, Eddie Munson.)

(He doesn't know that for a long while.)

[persephone11110]

organ player || bradley bradshaw

tw: abusive relationship, domestic violence, gaslighting, mentions of past child abuse, mentions of dead parents, self/victim blaming, alcoholism, cursing

summary: you wished you had the guts to get away from him, you wished he didn’t give you a reason to wear long sleeved sweaters in the middle of summer.

AN: haven’t done a bradley bradshaw fic in ages, I listened to suicide squad soundtrack and gangsta—kehlani came on.

—

THIS FIC MENTIONS PAST ABUSIVE CHILDHOOD,ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, AND ABUSIVE BRADLEY— SO PLEASE BE CAREFUL!!

—

He changed. Bradley Peter Bradshaw wasn’t the same man you met three years ago. He started off as the man who held the doors for you everywhere the of you two went, the man who made sure your were in the right headspace before sex. The man who came home after a long from being on base eager to see his girlfriend even while having bags under his eyes.

That wasn’t him anymore—day after day Bradley came home from work angrier and angrier. He spent his days in the dark garage drinking the night way, you remembered the first time you noticed a change in him. It been the anniversary of the Goose’s death, the day Bradley life fully changed, the day were little Bradley Bradshaw no longer had two parents.

You brushed it off telling yourself that he was in pain, grief is a slippery slope of neverending emotions.

You couldn’t fault him for his emotions being all haywire, you knew what it felt like to no longer have a dad . To walk across a stage without your dad in the audience cheering your name.

You knew better then to start argument with him, knowing how they would end— Bradley walking out of the room for a beer, you laying on the floor with a hand on your cheek.

You shouldv’e left him when Bradley control on his emotions were derailing constantly. You knew what would happen if you didn’t, you watched your own mother get beaten like a rag doll every day until you left for college. Your mom stayed until dad died, his liver could only go so long before it stopped working from all the alcohol.

Your dad knew how to sweet talk your mom into staying everytime she threatened to leave him.

“Think of our daughter Y/n , think of what’ll happen after she grows up without dad in her life”.

“I’ll change you know that, If it means keeping my wife and daughter under one roof”.

You didn’t mean to start an argument with him. You simply only asked him what he what side dishes he wanted added to the meal.

“Roo”, you called from your spot at the cabinets, rummaging around trying to piece together a decent meal for dinner.“Pick something to eat”.

“Whatever”, he grabbed two cold beer bottles from the fridge, brushing you off. That makes five.

“Do you have a preference?”. you sighed eyeing cans of corn and green beans. Like usual he would shrug his shoulders like he didn’t care, but like always— you always had a new bruise on your arm.

“Did you fucking listen to me, I just said I didn’t care Y/n”. Bradley grunted out, his grip on the beer bottle getting tighter. “I just got home from being gone for almost sixteen hours you think I give shit about whats for dinner?”.

“No need to get angry at me Bradley”, you crossed your arms,“I just wanted a definite answer before I waste food you don’t want”.

“Go figure Y/n”, he chucked the glass bottle into the trash can before walking away. “As if you weren’t sitting there demanding an answer from me Y/n— can you pretend to care about my wellbeing for once?”.

Turned back walking to the counter, you immediately tensed up waiting for his hand to ball into a fist.

Bradley shoves past you, grabbing his car keys.

You listened to the broncos engine roar, you didn’t think to run through the front door and stop him.

—

You sat across from Bradley deciding to break the silence with the good news you got from your mom. “I was thinking about flying to Houston to visit my mom grave for mother’s day, I’d—”.

“Are you fucking serious Y/n” Bradley slammed his fork onto the plate. his voice raised to louder octave you’ve been familiar with for the past couple of months. “You didn’t think to ask me if It was okay?”.

“Bradley”, you nibbled at your lower lips—you shouldve kept your mouth shut.

“Dont fucking Bradley me”, he slammed a fist onto the kitchen table making you flinch. “What about my mom grave Y/n?”. He took a gulp of his beer.

You were shaking your head,“I just thought since we always visit your mom grave every year, I thought maybe we could change it up this year and see my mom, Bradley I haven’t seen her since I buried two summers ago”.

“Yeah you thought Y/n, you never think about me”. His face flused with anger, “Did you suddenly forget my mom died from breast cancer almost twenty years ago?”. He tossed his plate towards the center of the table knocking down the glasses and breaking everything. “There a difference between our moms and you know it Y/n, Carole Bradshaw fought long and hard aganist cancer- while Ruby L/n allowed her husband to beat her senselessly every day till his death”.

He was right. There was no need to visit her anway— she’ll always be there waiting for you visit her.

You wiped at your nose, your eyes burned with tears as you tried to stop them from spilling down your face. “I’m really sorry Bradley”. you reached for his hand.

Bradley pushed himself out of the chair—stumbling almost as he walked towards you, gripping your shoulder tightly,“We both know your smarter than this Y/n, so figure out how to cancel the flights”.

You listened to the refrigerator door slam. His footsteps started to drown as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom you two shared together.

You picked the up the broken shards of glass.

You laid in bed watching his chest slowly go up and down. Your eyes blurry with tears, afraid if you moved your even a little you would wake him up.

You laid straight on your back staring at the ceiling wondering were the Bradley you once loved disappeared to. Wondering how you got here, your entire childhood you always promised yourself you never end up with man like your dad.

Like mother, like daughter.

[xobrattymoonxo]

A New Version of Daddy

TW: Non-con, psedo- incest, like one spank, forced impregnation, semi yandere, mentions of kiddnaping

Matsukawa x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n catches her step father doing something bad ;)

AN: Part of a collab for @hanmas sorry this is a gazzilion years late!! Also I made a discord server for my dark content!! I have an age robot in my server so feel free to joinif you are 18+ !!

Gen Taglist: Open!

Word count 1.2k

Third Person Pov

Her small chubby fingers wrapped around the balls as she moved quicker. Her heart was beating faster and faster. The sweat dripped down her face. She licked the corners of her mouth as she continued. Bent over for everyone to see exactly what she was up too under those bleachers. 

“Y/n are you done yet? I want to go home.” A girl whined from outside of the bleachers. 

“Yeah I was just grabbing the last ball. It rolled under the bleachers somehow.” 

Matsukawa watched the young girl walk closer as he felt his pants grow tight.

“Hey Dad! Where’s mom?” Y/n asked as she caught up to him. 

“Oh she couldn’t make it tonight boo, but you did great!” Matsukawa said to her. 

“Yeah cause being the ball girl is so hard Dad.” Y/n laughed.  

“You should really try out next summer, Y/n. I’m sure the coach would love to see your skills!” 

“I’m too busy with work and my summer semester, Yukie.” Y/n laughed. 

Yukie and Y/n were just finishing up a semester at Tokyo University. The two were now on summer break but Y/n chose to do more school. 

Matsukawa cleared his throat as he watched the two jump in the back seat of his car. He drove to drop Yukie off listening to the girls giggle and talk about the hot guys on their campus. Matsukawa couldn't help but to feel jealous of the boys y/n spoke about.

After Matsukawa dropped off Yukie, Y/n jumped in the front seat. Matsukawa adjusted himself, still hard as a rock. 

“Hey Dad?”

“What's up, boo?” 

“Do you think Mom cares anymore about us? She’s never around for anything. I get not showing up to see your kid be a ball girl, but I mean she didn’t even show up to my Dean’s list ceremony at school last week.” 

“She means well boo, I know she does.” He said using his signature nickname for y/n once again. 

“If you say so, Dad.” 

The two drove in silence for a bit till Y/n spoke up again.

“I can’t imagine you two are still in love after her always being off who knows where. Heck I can only imagine how many other men she's slept with in just the last 10 years.” 

“Excuse me?” Matsukawa asked with a hint of anger.  

“Think about how many business trips she's taken all these years. It's just common sense.”

The car pulled to a halt. 

“Get out and walk home.” Matsukawa spat. He wasn’t necessarily angry she had called out her mother like so, it was more of the disrespect to him that he was mad about. 

“No! Fuck that!” Y/n spat, crossing her arms.  

“Get the fuck OUT OF MY CAR!” He screamed in her face. 

“You’re not my real Dad. I don’t have to listen to you.” She mocked. 

“I’ve been the only Dad you’ve known since you were 14. Therefore you have to listen to me. I am your father.” 

“Gross. I am only getting out cause I want to.” She said as she slammed the door.  

Matsukawa thought back on his drive home how the fight was completely pointless. He wasn’t mad y/n’s mom wasn’t around, in fact he was much more interested in y/n. Ever since she went off to college something changed about her that he liked. Something about her breasts in all those low cut shirts and her ass in those booty shorts she always wore around the house. He felt himself getting hard once again. 

“Fuck” He siad to himself in the emty vehicle. 

He pulled up in front of their small home and exited his car. He rushed inside racing up to his bedroom. Forgetting to lock his bedroom door, he whipped off his pants and began to stroke his cock. 

Y/n was still walking home, when it started to rain out of nowhere. 

“Come on! You can’t give me one win today? This is so damn cliche.” She shouted at the sky. 

The rain poured buckets down on her as she trudged home. By the time she walked up to the door she was freezing and wet.  

Y/n threw off her shoes and dripped up the stairs to Matsukawa’s room. 

She slammed Matsukawa’s door open just as he let out a moan calling for y/n.  

“Umm…. It’s not what it looks like?” Matsukawa said, cock still in hand.  

“Well it looks like you were beating your meat to your step daughter.” Y/n replied sassily. 

“I mean… yes? But also no?” Matsukawa said, sounding unsure of himself.  

Y/n looked down at her wet clothes and back to Matsukawa’s cock. 

“Oh fuck this.” She said, about to leave the room. “I’m calling mom.” 

The last three words sparked something in Matsukawa. He couldn’t have her mother find out, not only would she think its creepy but she might call the cops on him and get a restraining order. He could not be without y/n.  

Matsukawa moved quickly on his feet and over to where the soaking wet Y/n was. He grabbed her by the hips and slammed her against the wall, taking the phone from her hand. He threw the phone across the room as he grabbed onto her neck. 

“You listen here you little bitch. I raised you as my own for years and I have put up with your disrespect. From this moment forward you will only refer to me as daddy.” 

Matsukawa ripped off her uniform shirt in one swift tug. He pulled down her shorts and panties, leaving her only in a bra. He let go of her neck as he unclasped her bra. 

“Please… I won’t tell mom.” Y/n said through tears. 

“Oh I know you won’t. Now get on the bed on all fours like a good little bitch.” He ordered. 

Y/n shook her head no. Matsukawa felt his anger build up even more. He grabbed her arm as he roughly tossed her at the bed. She just missed as she slipped and fell just ver the side of the bed. 

“This works too since you don’t want to listen.” 

He grabbed his belt from the nightstand and quickly wrapped it around both of her wrists. She whimpered out at the tightness. Now that he was resting against her, she could feel how big his cock really was. She felt him shuffle around, lining up the tip with her pussy. 

“Please Issei… It won’t fit.” She babbled out. 

She felt a heavy hand land hard down on her right ass cheek. 

“I told you it was Daddy from now on, you bitch.” 

She sniffled in response. He stood there, teasing her entrance listening to her whine out for a few minutes. Just when she began to calm her crying down, he slammed into her with his entire length. Y/n cried out,

“Ple-please no.” She begged. He began to move at a rough pace, taking almost his entire length out before slamming his massive cock back in. “Sto-stop.” 

“Tell me bitch, do your college boys fuck you this good? I know the answer is no.” Matsukawa felt himself getting close. “I’m gonna cum inside you and make you carry my child.” He whispered in her ear just before he came. Y/n felt her stomach swell up from dubious amount of cum inside of her. 

Matsukawa grabbed Y/n by the hips and tossed her up on the bed. He climbed up beside her sobbing figure and wrapped his arms around her. Her arms were still tied behind her back. 

“Just gonna stay like this for now…. at least till I am ready to put you in the basement.” 

“What…why?” She asked through tears.  

“Cause you are never leaving me. Your mom will never find you, you’ll never see your friends again, and I have the perfect plan to make sure that happens…. I can’t wait for little Issei jr.” He said right as he kissed Y/n on the lips. 

[the-s1lly-corner]

You points

I'd like to hear some of your general headcanons for itward! Any and all headcanons you can think of >:)

General Itward hcs!

I got too silly guys

This is gonna be long so buckleup

Side note, my silly little goofy baking marathon has begun, so requests are REALLY gonna slow down today and tomorrow and likely Tuesday as well

I current have multiple pies in the oven as we speak <\3 (note from the future i was typing for so long the first batch of pies finished and the second group just got put in)

My bodies gonna hate me for this but imma get paid (yaaaay!!!!)

Love to think that itward is self sufficient. He grows his own stuff and scavenges for any metal parts he needs what whatever (his ship, a project, ect)

As such he also builds and maintains his own stuff; the ship is the most obvious thing! But I like to think nearly everything in the ship itself was either made by him or found abandoned !

Its canon that he loves forks, both stated in the character sheet thing KMG posted as well as the copious amounts of forks decorating the main area of his ship! I mean he literally has a wall covered in forks! I can easily see him having even more forks stashed away somewhere

Torn between headcannoning him to just have them in a jumbled heap in a drawer somewhere... and headcannoning that he sorts them by size, material, color, and style... both seem so in character for him.. hmm..

I can say for certain that he has a box somewhere full of random stuff hes collected and it's not at all neat and organized. Rocks, gears, bolts, sticks, glass vials, jewels, and so on! The "oo pretty I think I'll keep this and use it for later (never uses it for later)" mindset! I like calling those lil trinket boxes "crow boxes"

"The one many children talk about", as said by the man himself. So fran and the twins arent the only ones who have interacted with him... dad of dozens of children

I was gonna go somewhere with that previous point but I genuinely forgot what I was gonna say

Has made stuffed animals and dolls at least once for all of his kids. And yes, that includes Clara and Mia, at least before they tried to kill him... reluctantly makes bunnies for kids who ask

Speaking of bunnies, since it's been proven that itward wasnt bluffing or lying about his fear of them (KMG made a post showing off a type of Kamala that basically makes you addicted to their candy, making you eat them til your guts explode) (which... is horrifying and makes me wonder, did itward see that happen to someone? Perhaps one of his kids? A friend? Or did he not and the concept just scares him so much?) It's a little funny that itward has a bunny plushie on his ship

Sad hc but I like to think it belonged to one of his past children and as much as hes afraid of it he doesnt have the heart to give it away

While we're on the topic of sad stuff, I dont think itward can shed tears. So in place of them, his bones start to rattle a little

While I also headcannon that his bones rattle when hes nervous or flustered, and perhaps on the rare occasion that hes angry, it does happen when hes sad enough

Okay no more sad, I like to think his hat steams when he gets real excited about something or embarrassed. The top of it just. Pops open and theres the steam billowing out

I dunno I think it suits him and his aesthetic...

Stole this idea from someone else but he can purr; it's mostly involuntary imo and if you listen close enough you can hear his bones vibrating and clacking against one another

His eyes glow in the dark! Not too bright, it's fairly dim, but it's enough for him to see around and for you to see where he is in a dark room!

Creaky bones. He is OLD! probably VERY OLD! So it would make sense his bones click and make noise thanks to the general age.. wear and tear you know? Especially prominent in his spine and ankles

Has a habit of clacking his teeth/jaw when speaking, as well as when hes just. Not doing anything

Prone to fiddling with his rings (!! Will get to that in a second!) As well as the accessories on his coat; and sometimes, even his hat!

Okay the rings! I like to hc that itward makes his own accessories too ! That includes the gems and chains on his coat (heck, hes probably made his own clothes!) And I like to hc that he sometimes wears rings !

Sometimes sells his stuff; more likely to sell shoes and clothing, as well as his machines and services! Sure he mostly lives off stuff hes found or grew, but theres some stuff that he cant just find or grow.. plus its generally a good idea to have some money somewhere

I'm pretty sure hes good friends with palontras and ziar (given him and palontras work together to help Fran and the painting of ziar in itwards ship) but I also like to think he is friends with the wizard and cogwind!

Mostly because I wish we got more stuff for both of them... also him and cogwind can bond over their interests!

Does not stay in one place for long, given that KMGs labels him as a wanderer, but assuming he keeps Fran around to raise her I think he anchors down to one place... well not ANCHOR but like, cutting down on traveling at least a bit, especially in the beginning so fran can fully come to terms with everything shes learned (the truth of her parents death, the grieving process, learning she may or may not be part of something larger if memory serves me right, it's been a while since I played the game, as well as being shot.. like yeah she was healed physically but like imagine how shes gonna feel when that fact she was shot mentally sinks in) ... cant have her bouncing between different realities and the spaces in between them constantly

Ponders

Listens to Antonios (giant old ant dude) old music, I think! Probably has a bunch of old vynlls laying around somewhere

Frequently has to clean his hands, especially his fingers since hes always working on SOMETHING, he doesnt wanna walk around with gunk in the grooves of his fingers. Very yucky very gross and very un-gentleman..ly...

I keep trying to wrap this post up but I keep remembering hcs/coming up with new ones

Anyways COMMITS to the bit when hes playing a game with Fran, or really any kid hes looking over. Tea party? Hes gonna bust out his very best manners. Yes he will wear a tiara if its offered to him. It will go over his hat, of course. Playing doctor? Oh he'll moan n cry about how sick hes feeling, please help him! Ect ect, things like that!

Sometimes makes shadow puppets and tells stories. Both in the form of little shadow theatres, but sometimes he will use his own hands and project the shadows onto the wall!

Very good at coming up with stories on the fly

Also very very good at comforting people, I think. Hes been around for a while and he just OOZES comfort

So if you have a nightmare or struggle with anxiety, itward wont let you just suffer and be scared, hes gonna do what suits you best to calm down; distractions, holding, taking, quiet, grounding, ect ect ect anything you need

[an-au-blog]

An AU where Luffy has a twin sister who was raised by Crocodile while he was raised by Dadan. (It's basically the parent trap) and he meets his twin sister when he gets to Alabasta is like cool and just takes her with him.

I'm gonna assume this is somewhat related to this post and just call Luffy's sister "Lucky" for convenience. This would be such an interesting interaction when Lucky and Luffy fiinally meet. It kind of reminds me of this crocodad au I'm absolutely in love with. (And maybe this post of mine ig)

In my head, they meet very briefly in Alabasta. They've heard about her from Vivi and she seemed to like Lucky but she also knew that Lucky was in the dark about what her dad was doing and couldn't be convinced that he was a bad guy unless she was it with her eyes. They meet for a little while when Luffy is fighting Crocodile, Lucky just stands there in horror watching her dad get pummeled. Croc tells her to run away multiple times and at first, she doesn't want to leave him but eventually, she's left with no choice. Vivi found her hiding somewhere and kind of reassured and calmed her down...

I think Luffy would be very accepting of Lucky as a sister, but Lucky would be a bit of a sheltered child and would be a bit angry with Luffy for throwing her dad in prison and forcing her to live without the only sense of security she had at that time. But then she feels a bit better after talking with Robin and sees things from her perspective as well. Luffy is sad that he finally has a younger (none of them have proof who's younger but Luffy insists he's older) sibling, and now she's mad at him for something he didn't know was even something to be mad about! I mean he broke Croc out of prison eventually, didn't he? Or at least that was his logic. After the talk with Robin, Lucky gives him a chance and they start bonding. They quickly became close and Lucky loved listening to all the adventures Luffy had gone through and got along with the crew very well. She was a bit more shy at first but opened up eventually. I can't get it out of my head that she'd be a very sheltered child with no concept of the outside world and a bit spoiled, yet with a strict parent... She'd probably be an extroverted introvert - very timid at first but extremely loud and comfortable with her friends.