#~ quizzical queries ~ (asks)

[silverymusings]

"What happened to your eye?" (Torin~)

@royaldeceit

He's ignoring her.

[im-pyramid-steve]

“Weirdness Town, Oregon? Uhh…yeah, I Live There” is my favorite show :D

you’re the best character in WTOUYILT without a doubt, though Jimbo Evergreen comes pretty close imo

Thank you for the kind words! Remember: Existence is a deception, the galaxy is a riddle, eat copper wires,

ta-taa!~

[is-the-sky-blue]

DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS (PT 1): GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU

Synopsis: When you have questions about physical intimacy Satoru and Suguru are quick to answer them.

Warnings: 18+, satosugu x fem!reader, lots of kissing, praise, teasing

>Part 1< Part 2 Part 3

The subject of physical intimacy never really felt like a taboo topic for you, especially when you were only discussing it with your two close friends and you were swimming in unanswered questions.

The very first time you brought it up was in elementary school when you watched Suguru's mother plant a peck onto his father's cheek. It was a strange sight for your young mind to comprehend as you sat on the floor squished between the two boys, backs leaning against the Geto family's pristine couch that your trio never really used, your fingers toying with tufts of the rug as Digimon played on the television.

"What was that?" you questioned with a tilt of you head, wide eyes parting as the scene dispersed, training your focus on the kid of the two lovers.

"A kiss?" he said confused, unsure on what your question was trying ask, "doesn't your mama do that for your papa too," he raised his brow, pudgy fingers plopping a gold fish cracker into his mouth as you shook your head.

"My mama only kisses my forehead," you tap the space above your brows, "I thought your mama and papa are only supposed to kiss you, not each other," and Suguru stares at you quizzically.

"My mama and papa kiss all the time though," he states before turning to Satoru, "do your parents kiss," he asks, waving his hands in front of the young Gojo's face to pry his blue eyes from the tv.

"What!" he exclaims, glaring at the boy on your other side, not catching the question Suguru threw at him before rudely interrupting his Digimon time.

"Do your mama and papa kiss?" you queried this time, watching as his eyebrows raised.

"Not in front of me but sometimes, yeah," he says, biting the head off a red sour path kid.

"Does that mean my mama and papa are kissing in secret," you wondered, the image of your non affectionate parents pressing kisses to each other's forehead out of view from your eyes seeming like a strange secret to keep from you, especially when they argue with each other in front of you all the time.

"Probably," Suguru nods and the three of you brush past it.

The second time you ask about kissing is in your first year of junior high, coddled in blankets as your head rested on Satoru's shoulder as he munched on the popcorn in a bowl he held in his lap, Suguru on his opposite side. The heater rumbled in the corner as snowflakes fell from the night sky. The three of you sat peacefully on the couch, finally transitioning to sitting on the plush cushions of Suguru's sofa as you watched a cheesy Christmas rom-com movie.

"Doesn't that feel funny," you pipe up, watching as the main characters fell into each other's embrace, lips slipping against one another, and you finally realized why this sappy holiday movie was rated PG-13, as between their pressed lips you could see peeks of their tongue pushing into each other's mouths, holding their bodies close to one another as the camera panned around, showing different views of their searing and long awaited kiss that their impalpable chemistry yearned for.

"Funny?" Suguru mumbles, "why would it feel funny."

"They are putting their tongues in each other's mouth," you state bluntly, watching as their lips part as they pant only for the romantic music to persist as they leaned in once more, "wouldn't that feel... slimy?"

"Maybe," Satoru chimes, highly uninterested in the film you insisted on watching in the name of festivity, claiming it had to be good after seeing so many trailers and teasers for the film, "they are swapping spit"

 "It sounds gross when you say it that way," Suguru gagged, the scene in front of him now making him cringe.

"But it's the truth," Satoru huffs loading his mouth with butter covered kernels as you nodded your head.

"Then why do they do it if it feels weird," you furrow your brows.

"It must feel nice or something," Satoru concludes as though it was obvious, "love interests always talk about how their heart skips a beat whenever kissing is mentioned, but I feel like they might just be sick."

"It's supposed to be romantic," Suguru scrunched his nose and you had to admit the borderline make out scene on the television did seem pretty loving.

"Is feeling funny romantic," you question, confused.

"Well they say that you feel butterflies in your stomach when you like someone," the dark haired boy states, recalling the cliche line that seemed to satisfy your curiosities.

But that was until Satoru asked, "You wanna try it."

HUH!!!!

To say you were shocked would be an understatement with the way you physically flinched at the question. Try it, try kissing, kissing who, kissing them? You could feel yourself grow slightly warmer but as Suguru merely shrugged with a simple "sure," that appeared nonchalant but the blush on his face betrayed him, your mind caught up with your body which you found was already nodding.

Kissing, you were going to kiss them, your first kiss would be with one of them, but with who? It appeared the two boys also had the same internal monologue as Satoru hummed with furrowed brows, "should we just play rock paper scissors," he questioned, "and whoever is holding the same sign kiss first." Your first kiss would be decided by a game of rock paper scissors... you had to admit that this was pretty on brand for your trio.

Soon enough all three of your fists were shaking as the murmured, "rock paper scissors," was said until three sets of scissors appeared on each of your fingers, "again?" Satoru asked but you merely shook your head with a coy little grin.

"The fates have already spoken," you teased, "we all have to kiss."

"How?" Satoru mumbled watching as suddenly the gears began to turn in Suguru's head as his foot reached out to grab the coffee table and pulled it closer to the couch.

"Sit," he merely commanded, eyes on you as he gestured towards the structure and you quickly oblige, finding yourself eager to be apart of his newly formed plan as you peeled yourself from the bundle of blankets, shivering slightly at the feeling of the cool material seeping into the pant legs of your fuzzy pajamas, staring at the two boys who now sat in front of you.

"What now," you ask, staring at Suguru as he merely shook his head.

"I'm not really sure," he grinned bashfully, "but if we all lean it should work." 

"What a plan," Satoru scoffed, earning a light punch to the shoulder.

"What else should we do," Suguru retorted, "if we share each others first kiss then there is less stress," the dark haired boy grumbled, "it's hard to decide who I would want to kiss first," it was said quietly, barely above a whisper but you caught it, a gentle smile crossing your lips as you pressed a hand to his knee.

"We can just try," you mused, "it's just the three of us anyways, no ones gonna tell." 

"Guess so," Satoru huffed "am I supposed to count down or somethi-" but he cut himself off, watching the way you began to lean forward and quickly he followed suit.

It was strange to say the least, two pairs of lips on your own as the three of you kissed, a little triangle of mouths. Your eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the feeling, slightly scared what you'd see if you opened them. The kiss was short, quick, and kind of weird but the warming of your cheeks explained how oddly nice it felt as you pulled away.

You felt suddenly breathless as you pulled your hands into fists, staring wide eyed at the bright blushing boys in front of you.

You had just kissed them.

You had given your first kiss to Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

You might be the only person to say that, say your first kiss was given to not only one person but two. The strange pride you felt in your chest was oddly satisfying.

"What now," Satoru was the first to break the silence and you couldn't keep yourself from staring at his lips as he spoke, mesmerized.

"You two kiss first," you mumble out, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him and you could feel the anticipation in your gut grow as they stared at each other with flushed faces.

"Us two," Suguru murmured, entranced by his friend's eyes before turning to you, "why?"

"I want to watch," you admit shamelessly, adjusting your position as you sat comfortably on the table, enjoying the sight of the two boys on the couch who grew warm at your confident words, but the way Suguru slid his hand to cup Satoru's cheeks had you growing warm.

His finger brushed over his pink skin, holding his head in both his hands, keeping him still as they stared at each other intently and you could see Satoru's adam's apple bob ever so slightly as Suguru took the initiative, head moving closer before their lips melded, and your eyes refused to blink, scared to miss a single second as you watched your best friends kiss each other gently.

It lasted a couple seconds and you drank up every second, their lips didn't move like in the film, tongues didn't dance and part of you wanted to speak up about it, mention how they were doing it incorrectly, but you couldn't, it didn't feel right to comment as you watched the way their chest heaved as they panted into each other's mouth as they pulled away.

Instead you merely queried, "did it feel good," and Suguru turned his hooded eyes to you, hand carefully making it's way to your face and you found anticipation begin to grow.

"Why don't you see for yourself."

Quickly you fell into him, eyes shutting as you let him kiss you and you could feel yourself understanding why they couldn't bring themselves to press their tongues inside like the actors had done in the movie, the rush of adrenaline and pure excitement his lips elicited had you clenching your fists as you leaned against him, you felt like a ball of nerves, scared to mess up but the small area where the two of you connected slowly began to soothe you.

God was your face hot.

You pulled away breathless, closed eyes opening to Suguru's smug smile as he tossed your question back at you, "did it feel good," and you felt a strange warmth in your belly as your post-kissed lips pursed.

"mhm," was all you could hum, tongue suddenly feeling numb in your mouth, you don't think you were going to kiss like the movie tonight but that didn't elicit any kind of disappointment, not when Satoru perked in his spot.

"My turn," was all he said before he began to lean in, hands tracing the spots where Suguru once placed his warm palms, his long fingers extending further that his counterpart as his somehow cold hands held you, pretty pink lips finding their way to yours as he quickly captured you.

For some reason you believed that kissing would always feel the same, sure there were different types of kisses but you thought that kissing Suguru would feel the same as kissing Satoru but quickly you were proven wrong, even if it was through a little closed mouth connection.

Suguru was light, lips pressing yours tenderly and with this all consuming warmth as his hot palms held your head lightly, holding you close whereas Satoru was a little bit rougher, lips pressing hard into yours as though he was trying to devour you, his slightly cold palms cupping your face gently but firmly as he pulled you into him.

They were each other's antithesis and yet despite their contrasting polarities you were undoubtedly attracted to both, finding yourself melting into both kisses with earnest as you found yourself just as breathless as Satoru pulled away, his fingers pinching the fat of your cheek one last time before letting them fall to his sides.

You felt like you were on a whole other plane of existence as your lungs tried to find air, your eyes finding pretty little grins that made you splay one on your own kiss fried lips.

Over the years the three of you had shared many secrets, from Satoru confessing to the two of you that it was indeed him that had broken the principal's window with a baseball, to Suguru confiding that he had practically run away from a girl who tried to give him a love letter.

Now the three of you had shared yet another secret, but this one was far from the rest, settling in it's own little category, hiding from prying eyes, it's content much more intimate than the others.

A dirty little secret had begun to fester and the three of you nurtured it with care.

The moment had marked the very first point in time in which you grew much more intimate.

Farewells were no longer only paired with hugs but kisses to the cheek or forehead as well. Cuddles on the couch oftentimes included a kiss to the lips. Innocent touches began to grow much more common as the three of you found yourself locked in Suguru's room, lips touching lips in the space, as unlike your home, in the Geto household the open door policy was not in effect.

So behind closed doors the three of you stole not only each other's first kiss, but your second, third, fourth, and many more after that.

It was in your second year of junior high when your kisses were born from less desire and more fun, a general domestic love beginning to blossom and snickers parted past your lips.

"Orange!"

"Strawberry."

They threw out their guesses, licking off the gloss coating their mouths. "Strawberry," you nod and Suguru pumped his fists as Satoru slumped.

"How is that strawberry," he fumed, leaning in for yet another taste of your chapstick covered lips only to grumble in annoyance, "Suguru what kind of lip glosses are you buying," he huffs, "they don't even taste right," and Suguru shrugged his shoulders, indulging in your taste once again before sighing.

"First of all these are chapsticks," the boy corrected, "second of all don't blame me because your tastebuds are all messed up." 

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

Currently they were in a battle to see who could guess the most flavours correct after Suguru had given you a multi pack of chapsticks at the store his uncle ran, getting them for free after stocking a couple shelves, determined to place them in your care after an offhand comment you made about your lips being dry.

"Did you taste the flavours before giving them to her like some weirdo pervert," Satoru accused as you wiped off the previous flavour, secretly spreading a different balm over your lips, "are you into licking chapsticks and then giving them to girls!"

"You were there when she opened the package."

"You could've resealed it."

"Stop being a sore loser," Suguru complained before training his attention on you, watching as you laugh in jest, clearly enjoying their banter before stealing your focus, your eyes instinctively falling closed as he cupped your face, thumb trailing over the apple of your cheek as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, your shoulders decompressing as you eagerly melted into him before he was rudely pulled off.

"Stop hogging her, you are going to lick off the taste," Satoru is quick to state before leaning in, capturing your lips before you could even open your eyes again. You can hear a thwack as Suguru smacks the boys back, the jolt lightly jostling your own head.

"I'm not licking off anything," he grumbles, rolling his eyes as the snowy haired boy finally reeled himself away, or rather you pushed him off, hand coming up to his mouth to keep him from going in again as you laughed, trying to catch your stolen breath as Satoru licked his lips.

"You have your guesses," you muse at the two boys, their heads nodding before you count down.

"Vanilla!"

"Vanilla."

You have to bite your lips to keep a giggle at bay, the way they look at each other is filled with so much irritation.

"You stole my answer!" Satoru claims with an accusatory finger.

"Why would I steal your answer if you've been wrong for the past five rounds!" and before you let their bickering continue, you cut them off.

"Well regardless you both are wrong," you confess, openly snickering at their widened eyes before reaching behind you to grab the container, flashing the label.

"Snowstorm..." Suguru trails off.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME," Satoru exclaims, brows shooting to his forehead before he's on you, tackling you onto Suguru's mattress, cupping the back of your head to make sure you don't hit the sheets too hard before he's sitting on your torso, staring down at you. "What the hell does a snowstorm taste like," he scrunches his face, faux anger directed towards you as though you were the one to manufacture the labels.

"Vanilla apparently," you laugh, his fingers merely gripping your shoulders tighter before kissing you once more, mumbling, 'snowstorm my ass,' as he tastes it again, or rather you again.

Until then the dirty little secret the three of you shared wasn't all that dirty, you merely pressed closed mouth kisses to each other's lips, tiny little pecks at best onto your faces in the confines of a bedroom, hands never trailing below the shoulders, never taking the time to explore the intricacies of each others bodies, tongues never taking the time to explore each other's mouths.

Well that was until the holidays rolled around once more, the three of your perched on Suguru's couch as junior high third years, the very same movie playing on the screen.

"Do you still think it feels funny," Satoru chimes smugly, elbowing your side as he sits in the middles, squished between you and Suguru much like a couple years prior as he held the bowl of popcorn in his hands.

"I dunno," you murmur, the scene that sparked the question that day playing on the television as the actor's slipped inside each other's mouths.

"What do you mean you don't know," he huffs, leaning his head on your shoulder as you focus on the screen.

"Well we only really give each other, pecks..." you try, "while they are french kissing," the terms felt quite foreign on your tongue, the only reason they were added to your dictionary because of a youtube video you watched. You weren't signed into your account so the generic algorithm, yet to be fed with your likes presented an array of miscellaneous content, one of which titled 'How to French Kiss' that caught your attention quickly, and despite your brain telling you it was stupid and weird thing to watch you still clicked on it, watching mesmerized as two people went through different types of kisses, ranging from the chaste kisses you were familiar with to ones full of tongue that you had only witnessed in films.

"Isn't french kissing the one where they kiss each other's cheeks," Satoru furrows his brows.

"That is French," Suguru notes, "but a french kiss is like the one they're doing," he gestures to the movie.

"It's the one where they shove their tongues in their mouths," you add and Satoru cringed much like how he did last year when you stated the same words and he sighs before collecting himself.

"You wanna try," and you could feel a strange sense of deja vu as the events began to play out once more. Suguru's foot grabbed the table and you found your seat, as instead of playing rock paper scissors this time you urged the two boy's to kiss first and they quickly obliged your request, never ones to ever really deny you. 

"You sure you don't wanna all touch tongues first," Satoru hums, teasingly eying you as Suguru carefully grasped his face, listening to your laugh before lips splayed onto his.

You stared intently as the scene unfolded similarly to years prior, and the longer you watched the more you realized that this was far too similar to years prior. Their tongues not dancing and instead of biting back your words you blurt them out, "you are supposed to use your tongue," you state and you can hear Suguru hum as he pulls away.

"I was getting there," he grumbles, eying your captivated figure before an all too smug smirk graced his lips that soon captured Satoru once more. You were glued to the scene, a muffled gasp playing into your ears as Suguru finally parted their sealed lips, mouths moving in tandem as between their newly angled heads, pretty peeks of pink tongues were spotted. You watched as though they were a film, two teenage boys holding each other tightly, Suguru's hands cupping Satoru's face gingerly while he threaded his fingers through dark locks, their faces illuminated by the tv screen behind you, painting reddened cheeks with a frosty blue glow as they moved their eager mouths.

They were an oil painting, a beauty that you felt unworthy to bare witness to as they displayed themselves to you, vulnerable and full of desire as they slid against one another, hands beginning to wander as Suguru slid from Satoru's warmed cheeks to his shoulders before planting on his hips, the hands threaded in his hair yanking and you licked your watering mouth, their eyes closed in bliss as hums of contentment rang through your ears, audio of the movie that once played ignored as the only music you wanted to listen to was them, the only art you wanted to consume was them.

It was delicate in the way the two finally pulled away, kiss bitten lips finally experiencing what it was to kiss, what it was to love, to pour yourself into a single part of yourself, to share that love with a partner despite the labels placed on one another being friends, they experienced a yearning for more and that yearning included you.

"Does it feel nice," you muse, the nostalgic words bringing Suguru's love drunk hooded eyes towards you, hair that was once neatly tied in a pretty black bun falling in rivulets as they framed his face.

"Do you run on a script or something," the boy mused, glittering at the familiar words as he reached for you.

"Just following tradition," you hum, "after all isn't that a large part of the holidays," you smile as he begins to lean closer.

"I don't really like traditions," he sighs, "but if those traditions include you two, I'll follow them until the day I die," and he shifted closer before murmuring, "why don't you see for yourself," to appease you and just like that he was on you, leaving you no time to laugh at the sappy words as he pressed himself into you, and finally you began to understand why he placed a chaste kiss to Satoru first.

The nerves that jumbled beneath your skin at the thought of participating in a tongue driven dance melted as he consumed you, the familiar feeling of his lips that you've felt against yours for hours at a time gracing your mouth, nothing different, nothing new, your fear of the unknown now deceased as he gave you a comfort of the known, warm lips against yours as his warm hands pressed against your cheeks before he pulled away, letting you take in a breath of air before he stole it once more.

He grasped you in his spell once more, enchanting you to his whims as he angled his head in a way you've never felt before, his lips hitting yours as he urged you to open your mouth alongside him, gently guiding you in a waltz as you finally felt his warm tongue enter your mouth, the foreign intrusion not unwelcome as he helped, his roaming hands finding purchase on your hips with one on the back of your scalp, pushing you into him as you fisted the fabric of his shirt, scared to explore as you went dizzy as he drank you in, guiding you so gently as you kissed, lips glued as he moved you in sync.

It was heated, with a fuzzy feeling lighting up your brain as you focused on him and only him, his two hands that were on you, drinking in their warmth until that warmth multiplied to four and you immediately recognize his touch, his slightly colder hands running along the length of your waist, lithe fingers squeezing as they scaled every curve. You were being devoured, nibbled upon by gentle lips and groping touches as they both set off on an adventure, wandering around on the island of your body and you let them.

You couldn't help but whine when you felt the warm kiss break off, cold air rushing into your screaming lungs that you couldn't care less about, you wanted him, needed him but before you could even make an attempt for his pretty lips he sang those oh so familiar words, "did it feel good," and just like last time your fumbling mouth couldn't run, words stolen by him as you merely hummed.

"mhm," airy and light as you stared at him with desire, feeling your beating heart thrum in your ears as you felt the hands that traversed your waist pull you towards him, grabbing your attention with his beautiful blue eyes, pink lips awaiting your arrival as he grinned.

"My turn pretty," he didn't ask but rather commanded, and you couldn't give yourself time to dwell on the pet name that spilled from his lips, the name that didn't refer to you as pretty but the embodiment of the word itself, your warmed cheeks the only evidence of his effect as he pulled for you and you shut your eyes to wait, only to hear a soft, "Tilt your head Toru," and as you peeked them open you could see Suguru's large fingers guiding Satoru's mouth to yours, angling his face to the side and you could feel yourself burning, lips parting and then you could feel Satoru on you, lips finding purchase on your own and you reached for his face, hands cupping Suguru's who merely interlaced your fingertips upon Satoru's cheek.

Satoru was, much like with all the sweets he ate, eager, tongue delving into your mouth. He was Suguru's opposite in all forms as his sloppy, unpracticed lips took whatever you had to offer. It was a clash of teeth and tongue and while it was messy and far from the tender guiding kiss Suguru offered it still made your mind blast off fireworks.

He didn't guide you but dominated you much to your compliance as your melting lips put up no protest. His hands travelled high up your torso, barely brushing against the side of your boob before travelling back down, elated fingers brushing and squeezing as he kissed you, finally and truly kissed you.

The two of you separated against your own will but to your lungs relief, as your heaving chest gulped down air as soon as your connected mouth parted, but despite your detachment a single clear tether held your two mouths together,  the thin bridge connecting you two slowly dissolved the further your head shifted away.

Suguru could feel himself gulp, the lewd saliva strand that stood between his two friend's mouths doing things to his body he couldn't quite understand, the very image something he wanted to burn into his memory, a picture he wanted to frame and as he watched the two of you pant he couldn't help the tug on his chest that filled him with lust.

He watched as your form straightened, bleary eyes blinking as you stared at Satoru, cloudy vision trained on his lips and as you opened your mouth to speak he expected to hear your sultry voice spill a praise that'd make his heart skip a beat, but he was quick to put that thought to rest.

"S-Satoru are you..." you pause, catching your breath, "eating sour gummies," you question, eyes wide with shock as Satoru flinched at your words.

"W- Wha, huh, N-No!" he stumbles, taken aback.

"You are," you gasp, "you totally are!" and you are pouncing forward, trying to pat around the couch to find where he hid the package as Suguru quickly removed the popcorn bowl from the vicinity, placing it on a side table as you and Satoru begin to wrestle, the white haired boy trying to fight you off as you peel away the blankets.

"Get off me you psycho!" he exclaims, "I don't have anything."

"Then why do you taste like blue raspberry!" you yell.

Soon enough your dirty little secret grew a little bit more filthier as instead of quick little kisses the three of you entered in contact that would be considered make outs. Bodies tightly wound as hands wandered from waists, to hips, to light brushes against chests and sliding over an occasional ass. Lips were more fervent in their approach with erotic sounds to match the pace as little whines and gasps graced the room.

Kisses were often given in more risky places eliciting slight protests as you hid between tall abandoned shelves in the library, pinned between bodies and books as they'd shush you. Kisses placed in the Gojo estates bathroom as you did your best to stay quiet as to not alert the wandering workers as they cleaned the manor. 

Your kisses never escalated into anything more but the two boys always seemed to scratch the irritating itch at the back of your brain that blossomed every so often, the itch they clambered over to soothe. The kisses you shared were always heated, lasting for nearly hours as the time between each session was lingering near months as times like this came few and far between. Despite the fact that something like this should've signaled something more in your trio, should've alluded to the three of you taking the next step in your relationship, you all stayed at the title of friends, or best friends, if that made it any better.

You were just a couple of pals who made out once and a while and went out together all the time, some would say you were dating but the thought never really crossed your mind, mainly because you didn't dare think about it. Especially since the kisses you shared weren't given on the regular, even quick pecks hidden from the public's eyes, it was because these were your dirty little secrets.

[stxrrkissed]

── ۶ৎ MISSING ANNIVERSARY .ᐟ

꣑ꦌ jack harlow x fem!wife!reader ৴ LENGTH 809

DESCRIPTION jack misses an anniversary and you’re upset.

CONTENT angst ꣑ fluff.

THOUGHTS this is a repost from my jack harlow blog, this was my first ever fic for him.

𝒾. mlist 𝒾𝒾. previous fic 𝒾𝒾𝒾. prompts 𝒾𝓋. taglist

WHEN JACK COMES HOME, you’re sitting on the couch strolling through your Instagram not even throwing a glance his way. He walks in and smiles when he sees you. “Hey babe, it was a good day at the studio, got a lot done but I missed you though.” He says with a huge smile on his face as he walks up to you, leaning in to kiss your lips but you move your head slightly so that his lips meets your cheek. 

“What was that?” He questions but you just ignore him and keep scrolling through your phone. You are pissed and you have every right to be, today is your wedding anniversary and you thought to make it special by cooking his favorite food and setting up his favorite lingerie that he could take off of you later but he forgot.

You try giving him the benefit of the doubt like maybe his phone stopped working but he texted you earlier asking you to send a picture of the cologne he regularly uses.

You know he would be busy with his album, and you’re fine with that, you support him every step of the way but you never expected him to forget an important day like this, you treasure this day so much, the day you married your high school sweetheart so him forgetting makes you feel hurt, you’d have been happy if he just sent a text, it’s the thought that count.

“So you not going to tell me why you’re acting weird?” Jack queries, getting quite annoyed at being ignored especially when he came home early to be with you since he missed you throughout the day, you’re the only thing on his mind when he is at the studio so for you to be acting this way towards him is crazy.

You simply roll your eyes, getting up from your spot and walk right past him, bumping his shoulder as you made your way to the dining table and pick up the plates of food that were now cold, and made your way to the kitchen to wrap them with saran wrap. 

Jack wonders what he could’ve done to make you this mad at him but he comes up empty. What he did know is he wasn’t going to let you go to bed angry. “Babe, please tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” he spoke softly as he walks into the kitchen, watching you put the food in the fridge.

You ignore him again and were about to make your way to the bedroom but Jack immediately got in front of you, stopping you from taking another step. “Nuh-uh, you know we don’t do silent treatment and going to sleep angry at each other,” he says as he looks down at you. 

“Jackman move out of my way,” you spit out as you starting to get annoyed with him being in your presence, not wanting to look into his eyes knowing if you do, you would give in like you always did. Jack is surprised by the use of his first name since you always called him ‘babe’ or ‘baby’. “Not until you tell me what's going on.” 

“Do you know what today is? Why don’t you check the date!” You yell as you step back, putting some distance between you and him. You watch him pull out his phone with a quizzical look on his face and when he sees the date, you turn your back towards him not wanting to make eye contact since you might start crying at any moment.

“Baby… I’m so sorry, I thought it was tomorrow, I swear I have everything planned,” you stay silent and he comes closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him and that’s all it took for the tears to roll down your cheeks and he starts rocking you back and forth.

“You know I love you right?” He says soothingly as he starts tracing shapes on your stomach, you nod your head silently and lean more into his touch. “I promise you, I thought the 25th was tomorrow and had everything ready for us to celebrate,” 

“It wouldn’t hurt you to start checking your calendar on your phone,” your response makes him chuckle. “Yes, I’ll be more up to date from now on, can we start over our anniversary for tomorrow, trust me you going to love what I have planned.” 

You turn around in his arms and look into his blue eyes. “Yes we can, I’m sorry I was mean to you,” he shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, I deserved it, I love you,” he rubs your arm a bit. “I love you too, babe,” he connects his lips with yours, holding you close to him not letting you go, come tomorrow he will make it all up to you.

thank you for reading! © stxrrkissed 2025. all rights reserved — do not claim, copy, re-post or translate.

[introverted-imagineer]

The Innocent and Guilty Parties

Warnings: Classist themes and language. This chapter jumps between 3rd person and 1st person. Each section has a name above it to help guide who each bit focuses on.

Hello, fellow Imagineers! Please forgive the long wait. I have been battling writer's block. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I have tried and failed to start and write this chapter (so frustrating!) But I truly hope you, fellow readers, enjoy this chapter.

Please support me here and enjoy! http://buymeacoffee.com/the_introverted_imagineer The Introverted Imagineer

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Y/N

‘Why did he just walk away like that?’ Twyla asked innocently. 

She sat in the small wooden tub, her knees under her chin as she hugged her legs tightly to her front, resting her chin on her kneecaps. My body froze, my fingers stiffly nestled in her thick locks as the soap bubbled against her tiny scalp. Why did he walk away? A question I’d like to know the answer to myself. 

‘Well, sweetheart it’s been a long time…I suppose he was just very shocked, you were just a baby when he left and now you’re a beautiful young girl…’

She simply nodded, but her rigid posture relayed the truth, that her queries and worries were still very much at the forefront of her mind. My fingers slightly released from their rigorous mortis like state, allowing me to massage them through her curly locks, a feature I had almost forgotten that resembled Harald’s so closely. 

‘He thinks I’m a thief’ she whispered, whether she intended for me to hear her or not, I couldn’t stop my instincts from diving into protection mode. 

‘Well he doesn’t know you.’ I fiercely responded, the resentment in my voice not mistaken, even by a seven year old. I tentatively reached for the small bowl, scooping water from the tub, rinsing the long curls that reached halfway down her back. ‘I mean to say darling, you’re not a thief, and what transpired this afternoon…’ my voice trailed, my thoughts racing. She wrapped her arms around her legs tighter, almost trying to cocoon into herself, bracing herself for whatever consequence was to come. 

‘Sweetheart…why did you not feel you could go ask your tutor for some spare materials? Why did you just take them?’ I remembered my own mother, how she would always meet troubling topics with an open mind, an open ended question, no matter how much she probably wanted to clip me around the ear. 

She didn’t move from her self made cocoon, only shifting her head so that her cheek rested on her knees, gazing at me side on. Her words clearly rested on the edge of her tongue, but her willingness to share was evident. I reached for the cloth, returning to scrubbing her back as a way to make it seem my concentration was elsewhere. 

‘Because…they don’t like people like us’ she reluctantly uttered. 

‘People like us?’ I responded quizzically. 

Truth was, there was no need for her to explain. A childhood full of slander, stereotyping, and misunderstanding meant I knew all to well what her words meant, and the weight they carried. 

‘He said I’m the Emperor’s bastard…and he accused me of taking things that I didn’t take.’ 

It was almost primal. My urge to attack, to scream, to shout. The wickedness of it all unbearably believable, to think that someone could be so sinister to anyone, let alone a child. My own childhood was plagued with such burdensome thoughts. So carefully I had tried to shape a life for Twyla that wouldn’t be anything similar to my own, a life where there was no space for such thoughts. Yet here she sat, in her most vulnerable state, my heart bleeding with guilt and worry. 

‘Everyone at the palace is the same…even him’ she said, sighing deeply. ‘Him?’ I asked curiously. 

‘My father.’ She sighed. 

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Y/N 

What was usually the sounds of birds calling and insects chirping was replaced by the sound of thumping in the distance. I opened my eyes, gently brushing Twylas curls from my face as she rested in total uninterrupted slumber. The thump followed a continuous beat, the rhythm thumping from afar. 

I quietly rose from the bed, eyes adjusting to the gentle sunlight as I moved the cloth from the window. Each morning, the small settlement was usually busy with farmers milking their cattle, children distributing hay to the livestock with pitchforks that were too big and heavy for them. The sound of crunching as people harvested crops for their market sales. Instead, it was barren. In the distance, I could see familiar figures walking down the hill towards the city, following the sound of the drumming beat in curiosity. It was only when the distant sound of cheering emitted that the reality truly hit. 

The Emperor’s army had returned in full. 

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Twyla

The day before had been exhausting. The overwhelming adrenaline that had transpired from the events of the day before, the trepidation of being faced with her father; someone she always thought deep down she might recognise if their paths ever crossed. The reality that she would no longer be welcome at the palace…although in that moment she wasn’t so sure that was a bad thing. 

The little girl felt heavy, slumber-some at the thought of having to face the day, a new day which didn’t include the long walk to the palace, the droning on of her tutor, or her post lesson debriefs at the tree with her best friend. 

She wearily reached into the bucket of water in the corner of the hut, wiping away the dry tears that had formed crusty cluster on her skin. 

The sky was already shining, contrasting to the normal black sky she greeted most mornings. The hut, usually filled by her mother making her breakfast, was instead stark silent. She opened the door of their small home, startled by the absence of her mother or any of her neighbours. Retreating inside she dressed herself, lacing up a pair of boots that were slightly too small for her growing feet. Her other shoes long lost amongst the gardens of the palace, likely already thrown into a fire somewhere. 

Daring to venture out she stood in the doorframe unsure whether to retreat back inside or explore the vast emptiness. What if they had taken everyone away? What if the settlement had been ransacked while she were asleep? What if they had taken her mother away? Her thoughts racing with questions, anxiety bubbling in her stomach at the thought of her mother being questioned and crucified by her behaviour the day before. 

She took a deep breath, poking her head out, assessing her surroundings determining the safety. Whatever had caused the silence, she was determined to find out why. 

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Y/N

As I edged closer to the city centre, the noise was overwhelming. What had started as a solemn solo journey, I was now swept up in a sea of people constantly pushing one another as more people joined the crowd, all joining the expedition to the central chaos. Women held bouquets of flowers, men held long wreaths that they shook above them in celebration. Children ran around clapping their hands as they weaved through the crowd of people. 

The drumming became louder, the sound of clanging symbols now complementing the rhythmic beat. People stood on the roofs of buildings, people hanging out almost every window of their homes as they cheered and sung praises below. I weaved through the crowd, placing myself at the edge of the stone wall, looking below. A sea of red paraded through the streets, each one equipped with shields and weapons as they waved at the adoring crowd. Flowers rained down as people threw petals and stems at the soldiers, yelling admirations and blessings, some even crying joyfully. The sea of red seemed to endlessly flow through the streets, people following their path right towards the palace walls. 

As I made my way closer to the palace, the sea of red was a stark contrast to the small party of gold that led the parade. So perfectly, the army lined themselves in rows that stretched all the way down and around the path. The crowd watched from above, packed shoulder to shoulder as everyone cast their eyes towards the front of the palace. A long black canopy adorned the front of the palace walls, blocking the view from the crowd above. 

As the drumming stopped, the rhythmic clanging from the symbols subsided, the chatter and cheering from the crowd turned to quiet. Many members of the crowd were unsettled, their eyes desperately searching amongst the crowd of warriors, looking for lost family members and loved ones. Their attention disturbed as two men made their way forward, standing on the small podium facing the mystery canopy. 

Their presence was met with cheers from the crowd below, banging their weapons on their shields, clapping. As the pair peeled their helmets from their heads, I could feel my blood turn cold. His hair, even from such a great distance, those thick brown curls, the bits of yellow naturally bleached by the sun. Exactly like Twylas. Silently grateful for the crowd from above, I hadn’t noticed my weight leaning against others at the mere shock of his grandeur presence. 

From under the canopy, a bejewelling gold figure emerged from underneath. It was only when the priest had finished his speech was the silence broken by an even more chilling voice.

‘Today we welcome back our beloved army, and celebrate their overwhelming victory in Sicily.’ 

Another voice I hadn't heard in seven years. Another voice that reminded me that the last seven years, everything I’d worked for, the home we’d built for ourselves, the friends we’d made, all of it could be ripped away from under us by the click of the Emperor’s fingers. 

The crowd cheers, relishing in all his glory. His every word, his every movement, the crowd couldn’t get enough of his splendour. The excitement amongst the crowd was electric, intensifying as the Emperor invited another presence that terrified me even more. 

Her new name, the Empress Zoe. 

It was in this moment. Looking at the endless sea that was the Emperor’s army, the way the Empress, Emperor and Harald commanded the audience, did I truly realise the fragility of our situation. The last seven years was only but a passing dream. Reality had returned, and it had returned in full. 

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Twyla

Twyla walks cautiously through the streets. The sound of cheering emits from the centre of the city, the calls sporadic and inconsistent. It seemed like a deserted wasteland, clothing left to dance in the breeze, every door and window shut, which were usually open in such heat. She had even seen a couple of rats running freely on the cobblestones. 

Her tireless venture was eventually interrupted by the smell of smoke. Instead of following the cheers that had come from the city, she followed the wafting of burnt embers that encapsulated her senses. It wasn’t a smell of wood, or food, or even animal excrement, all smells she was used to at home. 

She trailed around, poking her head around the corner of one of the buildings, finding the source of the fire itself. The house stood at the end of a desolate lane, a small courtyard with an array of shrubs and overgrown gardens. Clearly a place that lacked any attention for some time. At the edge of the courtyard, a short stone retaining wall stood enclosing the property. It was along the wall she saw a small collection of scrolls and papers, inscribed with words and drawings she couldn’t make out from her distance. 

She tentatively ducked, slowly following the edge of the property. The edge of the retaining wall backed onto a small cliff, but this didn’t seem to deflect her new-found bravery to find out what was written on all the discarded pages. She climbed atop of the small retaining wall, crawling along the top that was just thick enough to maintain her balance and weight. She cautiously looked around, there was no noise, no presence, only a burning fire and a bunch of parchment. She reached down, sitting herself on the wall, and unravelled the wonders of her new-found treasure. 

Upon the parchment, sketches of plants and flowers, along with descriptions of healing properties. Another parchment showed drawings of the night sky, little scribbles and notes she couldn’t quite make out. As she kept unravelling, she didn’t notice the new presence that had entered the courtyard. 

‘Found what you’re looking for?’ The man sarcastically noted, causing the young girl to jolt, dropping the parchment she was holding. Frozen, she stared at the man as he held an armful of leather bound scrolls above the fire. She didn’t know what was more terrifying. Him, or his willingness to burn what seemed to be a library full of information and knowledge. 

‘Bring those to me’ he commanded, dumping the parchment on the ground, taking the metal rod and poking the small fire. Twyla remained still, casting her eyes down at the cliffs edge, debating if it would be a worthy escape. But the man interrupted again. ‘Don’t be foolish, just bring me some of those papers by your feet’ he said, not even looking up at her, clearly more concerned with his task at hand. 

She carefully placed her feet on the ground beneath her, watching the mans every movements as she collected bits of paper. He looked up at her, his eyes a natural squint, his hair untamed, his skin a deep brown that indicated he had spent too much time in the sun. She slowly approached, standing opposite him, the fire a barrier between them that made the young girl feel a little safer. 

‘Why are you burning all this?’ She asked, her arms full of parchment. 

He looked down, his lips pursing, slightly hunched, clearly uncomfortable by her sudden inquisitiveness. He glanced at her, his attention intensifying on her as he took in all her features. 

‘Where are your parents?’ He asked, countering her question with another. Little did Lief know, it wouldn’t be enough to deter her. Little did Twyla know, Lief Erikson already knew all too well who the her parents were. 

‘Answer my question first’ she responded more confidently. Lief couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, the similarities to y/n evident. He watched the young girl, wondering how similar she might be to his own niece or nephew. 

‘I’m burning these because the information they possess are not helpful for anyone’ he said solemnly, his attention turning back quickly to the fire. 

‘Why is that their fault?’ Twyla asked, tilting her head to one side. 

‘Whose fault?’ Lief asked unenthusiastically. 

‘Well…all this information? Just because you don’t think it’s helpful for you doesn’t mean it’s not helpful for anyone else?’ Again, her attention unwavering, making Lief feel all the more uncomfortable. He didn’t want to have to tell a child about the horrors of Syracuse or the guilt that he carried since. 

‘It’s just not something anyone should have’ his voice carrying a tone of impatience as he said it. The young girl let out a sigh, raising one of her eyebrows, a feature that undeniably matched that of Harald. It always bothered him when Harald did that, but he couldn’t find himself getting the same feeling from the young curious girl. 

‘You disagree?’ Lief asked, placing the metal rod to the side, crossing his arms. The young girl was clearly tense, her head lowered slightly as her eyes flickered between Lief and the fire. ‘Go on’ he said, forcing his voice to be more cheerful. 

‘Well…I think that there are things here that could be used to better the world…and maybe there are things here that can be shared’ her words trailed off as she busied herself with the scrolls in her arms, reaching for one in particular. Her new found confidence was striking to Lief, as the previously timid girl walked around the fire pit, her arms outstretched as she offered Lief a piece of parchment. He tentatively took the page, unravelling it’s contents. On the page, a series of drawings and words about plants and flowers. 

His throat hitched. The memory of Miriam, how she carried such plants on her person to manage pain and aches. It was only the sight of Twyla in front of him that brought him back from his internal darkness. He sighed, unsure of how to balance the moral queries of the little girls questions and what happened in Syracuse. 

‘Maybe I can take some? My mother and I could maybe use some of this to help people? Better than burning it?’ She said, opening scrolls and assessing the contents. Lief couldn’t help but feel enamoured by the young girls curiosity, and her proficient wisdom. He couldn’t help but admire the young girl, and the job her mother had done in raising her. He hoped his own sister had done the same for the child she bore. 

Lief smiled to himself. ‘You have a look, and show me what you want to take, I can’t promise I’ll let you keep everything, but if you think these writings will make the world a better place then I’ll let you take it.’ The young girl couldn’t help but jump up in excitement, and Lief happily watched as she took to her task, unravelling all the parchment within reach.  

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Harald

The palace, that had stood solemnly and lonely for the past seven years, now possessed a resurgence of life. A grand feast covered the tables in the main hall, there was chatter, and laughter, almost causing a headache for the Empress. The Emperor strode around his grand hall, the familiarity giving him a sense of peace. His castle the same as when he left, but with his newfound successes, it felt all the more glorious. 

The Empress watched from afar, watching as Harald politely shook hands and engaged in conversation with admirers, accepting congratulations on his new title Spatharkandidatos. She watched as Harald glanced over at his friends, trying to politely dismiss the strangers who were desperate to talk to him. The Empress slowly made her way towards the group, anticipating her moment with Harald without drawing the suspicions of her husband. 

As Harald finally approached the group, the Emperor approached also. ‘Harald!’ He cheered, his smile wide, his teeth gleaming as Harald directed his attentions to him, bowing dutifully. As the Empress was about to speak, the Emperor interrupted again. 

‘Harald Sigurdsson, I’m disappointed to not see your wife or daughter here celebrating with us’ he said, wrapping his arm possessively around the Empresses waist. The discomforting look did not escape their friends, however the Emperor was none the wiser. 

‘After seven years away, it’s overwhelming for us all I suppose’ Harald offered as diplomatically as he could. The truth was Harald was speaking more for himself than of y/n and Twyla. The parade, the honouring of his new title, his return to Constantinople had been all a blur since he came face to face with his daughter the night before. Like the walking dead, his consciousness was punctured and subdued by the fear in his daughters eyes when he had faced her. Harald had gone to bed that night, replaying the scene over and over. How he had yelled, how he had scared her, but how he sensed that the life he had tried to set up for her had not acclimated at all. The prospect that his daughter had succumbed to a life of thievery and pickpocketing to survive. The way her clothes were ripped, the mess of items that fell from her bag. Harald was disappointed, but no more than himself; how he had simply walked away, failing to acknowledge his wife nor daughter after seven years of absence. 

His guilt was matched, however, by anger. How y/n had never responded to any of his letters, how nobody seemed to know anything of his wife or daughter when messengers travelled between Constantinople and wherever the war had taken them. In his mind, y/n had robbed him of what little he could have. Seven years of wonder, of broken hope when messengers informed him they had no news of his family, that his wife refused to take any letter or message from him. The torture of the unknown was more menacing than any opponent on the battlefield. 

‘I sent the invitation personally’ the Empress remarked, placing her hand on her husband’s which still rested on her waist. Harald’s face dropped, his eyes seeming sullen all of a sudden. ‘The child had stopped attending her lessons…I wonder if she is unwell?’ The Empress continued. But the Emperor interrupted once again, sensing the confusion and concern that was rattling inside his noble warrior. ‘My dear, this is not the time to discuss such personal matters’ he whispered, his tone condescending. 

‘Emperor’ a voice called, drawing his attentions to another part of the room. He placed a gentle pat on his wife’s lower back as he walked away.  

‘Do you still wish to return to Norway to be King?’ The Empress asked. 

‘My desires have never wavered. It is my destiny’ Harald responded, his unwavering doubt clearly a disappointment to the Empress. 

‘Destinies can change’ she remarked confidently. 

Harald was not naive. It was very clear, even after seven years apart, the Empresses admiration for him had not faltered. Harald knew that her feelings was more a cause of danger for him rather than the Empress herself. But even with a wife, Harald could feel his insides quiver. There was no doubt, the Empress was beautiful, generous…possessive, but Harald needed to get closer to her. She clearly knew something about his child, and he was desperate for information. 

His sense of danger heightened as a group of palace guards approached him in the middle of the celebrations, leading him to the underground of the palace, away from the safety of anyone else. 

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Y/N

‘Y/n’ Mathilda’s voice softly called as I sat in the garden, ripping weeds from the crops, aimlessly throwing them over the small wooden fence. Anger. All I felt was anger. How proudly he stood, basking in the glory of an empire that wasn’t his. How the Emperor and Empress decorated him with titles. 

‘Harald is back’ she said, letting herself in through the small garden fence, picking up the destruction that I had clearly made by ripping away at the garden. 

‘I know. I saw him’ I stated coldly. 

‘You weren’t at the celebration?’ She said, more as a question rather than a statement. I couldn’t help but scoff at the ridiculousness of it. ‘How was I supposed to know that I had been called to see the great Harald Sigurdsson? He certainly didn’t say anything yesterday’ I sarcastically and aggressively stated. 

‘You saw him yesterday?’ She quizzed, lowering herself down to the ground next to me. ‘He called Twyla a thief, and then walked off when we finally came face to face. SHIT!’ I exclaimed, holding the stems of an onion plant that clearly wasn’t ready to be pulled. ‘Seven years, you’d think he might have at least said hello or asked how we were, not fucking walk off’ I yelled, startling the livestock as they ran further away from the fence near the house. ‘You know, from what those viking scum took from us all those years ago, the events we endured, how our lives have been affected, why is it that people like that seem to get every fucking thing they want!’ 

I could barely catch my breath before Mathilda made another remark. 

‘Are you jealous y/n?’ She asked quietly. 

It was then that my arm seemed to involuntarily thrust, my arm giving a sharp whip as the premature onions went flying into the paddock. 

‘I’M NOT JEALOUS, THE WORLD JUST TIME AND TIME PROVES OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO BE FUCKING CRUEL AND COMICALLY UNFAIR’. It was only when my shouting finished did I realise that a sheep had jumped the paddock, and my cheeks were wet with tears. 

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Harald

‘Forgive the intrigue, but no one can know where this place is’ the Emperor noted, standing cynically at the end of the hall. Harald, startled, remained quiet as he waited for whatever move the Emperor was about to make. 

The Empress stepped into view, making Harald’s insides quiver. 

‘Can I trust you Harald Sigurdsson?’ The Emperor asked. 

His question struck two emotions within Harald. Disbelief and fear. Disbelief that after seven years of loyal service, that the Emperor would question his loyalties. Fear, as to the uncertainty of the Empresses presence. 

‘I believe I have earned that trust’ he responded. The Emperor smiled, turning around as he walked further into the private chamber. 

‘Then enter the Emperor’s vault’ he announced cheerfully. 

The room was filled with gold, silver, and jewels. It was unlike anything Harald had seen. In that moment, he was finally distracted from any thought of his daughter or y/n. His attention wavering even further when the Emperor announced it was for Harald to take, and not simply admire. 

But the diverted attention only lasted momentarily. Even faced with all the treasures he could ever dream of, he still wanted information on his greatest treasures of all. 

‘What of my daughter…and wife?’ Harald asked. The Emperor smiled. ‘I admire your devotion to family’ he said, strolling casually towards another door. ‘For this, I shall leave you to deliberate with my wife’ he said, exiting the chamber mysteriously. 

The Empress watched him eagerly, teasingly strutting closer and closer to his large frame. But Harald was determined to keep his composure. Eyes were always everywhere.

‘I tried to give your letters to your wife personally’ she said. ‘I even tried to give them to your daughter to take home, but they never seemed to make it home’. Harald’s hands tensed, clamping his fingers into a fist. 

‘You said she has stopped attending her lessons?’ He asked. 

‘Harald, I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but your daughter has been accused of stealing prized jewels from the palace.’ Harald couldn’t help but be confused by her statement. ‘What kind of prized jewels?’ He asked curiously. ‘Some relics that clearly have been taken from the church, her tutor managed to retrieve from her belongings, but there are more missing items that the clergy have noticed.’ Her faced offered a comforting softness as she looked at Harald, lifting her hand and brushing her hand against his cheek. ‘I’m sorry, this is not news I wanted to share’ she whispered softly. Defeated by the news, she trailed her hand down his arms, placing something solid in his hand. 

‘But you don’t have to choose, you can have everything’ she said, gesturing to the items in the room, before taking her leave, leaving Harald Sigurdsson vulnerable and confused. 

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Harald

’This is what you fought for. Everywhere we went these were your rewards’ Harald exclaimed, baffled by the sight of Lief burning all the knowledge that he had procured over the last seven years. But Lief was determined, he had already been diverted by the young girl earlier that day, he simply wanted to finish what he started. 

‘I intended to use the knowledge to make the world better. I have used it to make it worse’ Lief coldly responded. 

Lief, what happened in Syracuse was not your fault’ Harald said, so matter of factly in a way that had always irritated Lief. But as he looked at Harald, his stern face softened to one of compassion, he couldn’t help but speak. 

‘She’s a lot like you…the expression similar’ Lief said, waving the scroll in his hand. ‘Expect, she’s a lot wiser than you or I in many ways’ he said, facing his back to Harald as he retrieved more materials to burn. 

‘Who?’ Harald asked curiously. 

‘Twyla’ Lief responded, deciding not to look at Harald, incase his words hit deeper than intended. 

‘You met her? You talked to her?’ Harald asked, pacing closer to Lief, his face one of disbelief. Lief simply nodded casually, fuelling Harald more. 

‘She was here? What did she say? What is she like?’ Harald asked, his strong hand grasping onto Lief’s wrist as he went to throw another scroll in the fire. Begrudgingly, Lief dropped the scroll, walking over to the retaining wall, taking a seat as he looked at the dumbfounded Harald Sigurdsson. 

‘She is stubborn, but wise and curious, especially for someone so young. She is kind, but not in a manner that is overbearing. She is cautious, but bold. She is certainly her mothers daughter.’ He said, realising that his last sentence might not be a comforting factor to his friend. 

‘Did she ask about me at all?’ Harald asked, his vulnerability surprising Lief. 

‘Not specifically’ Lief responded. ‘I asked her where she learnt to read, she said she used to go to classes her father had organised for her before he left for the war’ he noted nonchalantly. Harald raised his hand, covering his mouth in frustration as he scratched at his chin. ‘The Empress told me she’s been stealing from the palace’ Harald responded, his face back to that sternness that was so common to him. 

Lief laughed, angering Harald. 

‘What?’ Harald demanded. 

‘Harald, you and I come from very different worlds. I have known thief's, and pickpockets, and liars. Your daughter is not one of them’ Lief said, so matter of factly.  

‘Well Elena said…’ Harald begun, only to be interrupted by Lief. 

‘Elena is dead, she is now the Empress Zoe. Elena was your friend, but the Empress is not’ he sternly told Harald, reaching for more scrolls and waltzing back over to the fire. 

‘Well explain to me why she has been accused of thievery, has stopped attending her lessons, and my daughter nor her mother ever responded to any of my letters? The Empress seems to be the only person willing to tell me what's been going on, so explain to me how I cannot consider her a friend if she’s the only one telling me anything of use’ Harald impatiently remarked, using his fingers to count off each fact. 

‘Maybe you should ask y/n yourself’ Lief remarked, causing his friend to stomp off angrily with a final remark. 

‘My wife has refused contact with me in seven years, why would she start now!’

Little did either of them know, the young girl sat hidden, her back pressed against the wall, having heard everything between Lief Eriksson and Harald Sigurdsson.

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Y/N

‘YOU LIAR’ Twyla’s voice screamed, causing me to jump. 

‘What are you talking about sweetheart?’ I asked, dropping the large wooden spoon in the pot. ‘And what are all those scrolls?’ I asked, rising from the small stool, giving her my full attention. 

‘I HEARD HIM, I HEARD HIM TALK ABOUT THE LETTERS!’ She yelled, stomping her foot on the ground. 

‘WHO AND WHAT LETTERS?’ I yelled back, my eyes closed, my hands involuntarily twitching. 

‘MY FATHER! He says he sent letters!’ She exclaimed, my dumbfound expression not deterring her. 

‘You spoke to him?’ I asked, squatting to match her height as I reached out, trying to comfort her distresses. But she took a step back, determined to keep composure. 

‘No, he told the man, his friend…Leaf’ she said heatedly. 

‘Lief?’ I asked. 

‘He told Lief you didn’t respond to his letters’ she expressed defeatedly. ‘Maybe he wouldn’t believe I was a thief if he knew a little about me, but you didn’t reply to his letters.’ She dropped the scrolls, her mouth turned downward. 

I cautiously shuffled closer, placing my hands gently on her now-crossed arms. 

‘Twyla, I never received any letters.’ 

[fishfooddude]

I'll Raise You One Better

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader

Part of the Double Trouble universe, it was a brainworm that didn't stop diggin'

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Part 1

“Yeah, my sister sucks sometimes.” Sierra frowned as Richie paced Carmy’s living room. She looked over to see a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, “You really thought Sierra would cheat on me with you?” Carmy managed to ask without laughing too much. Richie’s arms flew up in the air, “Cousin- I’ve been beating myself up for fuckin’ days about this! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Sierra had a fuckin’ twin?!” he grunted in a mix of annoyance and anger. He felt like a fool. Since he’d staged at Ever, he felt like he’d found his place in the culinary space. All of that could have been thrown away if he’d actually had sex with Sierra at that party. Carmy would’ve finally cut him off, Natalie would have followed suit due to family ties, and he’d lose his job, his friends, and everything else he’d worked for.

“Richie? Sit down, okay- you’re gonna worry yourself into having a fucking aneurysm.” Sierra sternly cooed as she guided the man to sit on the couch. Carmy leaned back in his chair, absolutely loving this; Sierra rolled her eyes before shooting him a dirty look. “Do you want me to beat her up?” Sierra offered as she sat down next to him. Richie flinched and shifted further away from her. “I just feel like shit Sierra. I thought she was you. I thought I fucked Carmy’s girl- what the fuck does that say about me? I’m a fuckin’ loser scumbag. I fucked my cousin’s fuckin’ girl.” 

Sierra frowned. “I can deal with this if you want, Richie,” she offered, hoping to appease some of the man’s guilt. Richie shook his head. “I just—I don’t know.” He was defeated. A silence fell over the room. Sierra looked at Carmy to see a quizzical look on his face; he had an idea, and she felt like it would be bad. 

“She fucked with you- you fuck with her,” Carmy suggested breaking the silence. Richie looked at him, “What do you mean?” he queried, raising an eyebrow in Carmy’s direction.

~

Sierra invited you out for dinner only to stand you up. You ended up ordering dinner to go and then went outside to wait. As you scrolled through your phone, you heard someone call out, ‘Sierra?’ You looked up and felt like a deer in the headlights—it was none other than Richie. 

“Thought you were workin’ tonight.” Richie laughed as he walked up to you. You shrugged, still playing into the idea of being Sierra, “Nah, I got a coworker to cover for me.” you bluffed. “Surprised you’re not hangin’ out with Carmy. We closed early- he said somethin’ ‘bout havin’ plans with you.” Richie said as he shoved his hands in his ill-fitting track pants pockets. You glanced toward his crotch and could swear you saw the outline of his cock; even soft, it was impressive. The thought of it filling you up again made your core quiver in anticipation. “Nah- I wanted some alone time, ya know…” you played off quickly, looking back up in his stormy blue eyes. “I told Carmy about what happened at Marcus’s party…. I didn’t think you two were that kind of couple.” Richie sneered, hoping you didn’t see through his own bluff. 

You shrugged in response. You tried not to think about your sister’s sex life, but now you were a little curious: what were Sierra and Carmy doing behind closed doors? Growing up, Sierra told you everything and the idea of her being some kinky sex freak would be an interesting lure reveal. “Things were gettin’ dry, ya know? Turns out Carmy’s into some… interesting stuff.” you subtly flirted back at him. Richie chuckled before quickly swiping his tongue over his top lip, “You know my place is just up the street. Wanna have some fun before the big night?” he asked as he stepped closer to you. 

“Big night?” you wonder, fidgeting with your phone case as you blankly stare at Richie. A wicked smile spread across Richie’s face, “Didn’t he tell you ‘bout it? He said he did… wanted to watch you get fucked… by a real man.”

You felt your breath hitch at Richie’s words. What the fuck did you get yourself wrapped up in? Richie sensed your hesitation and moved his hands on your hips and slowly pulled you toward him, “You scared princess? What happened to my good girl? Carmy said-”

You cut Richie off, “I’mnotSierraIdon’twannadothis!” 

Richie chuckled and shuffled his hands from your hips to your lower back, dangerously close to the top of your ass. “I know you’re not Sierra, Y/N. Why did you let me think you were?” 

“Uh- I uh- I never um said-” you mumbled softly as you looked away from him, “You let me believe it. You let me believe I fucked my best friend’s girlfriend. You know he’s gonna propose to Sierra, right? You let me think that I ruined the one thing that makes Carmy happy.” Richie hissed.

You swallowed, “I-I-I-” 

“I-I-I,” Richie taunted, “What! What you tryin’ to fuckin’ apologize for being a fuckin’ bitch? You’re just such some dumb little slut, aren’t you? Get off on fuckin’ up people’s lives? Makin’ think the worst of themselves?” he laughed letting his hands fall. “Fuck you, Y/N. You’re nothin’ but a fuckin’ whore.”

Part 3

[ichorai]

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

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

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

words ; 14.4k

themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, suggestive, 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, roman’s implied demisexuality, kendall is Losing it this chappie, fucked up family dynamics, imaginary dead cats & real dead sisters <3

a/n ; tumblr is being a bitch and not letting me turn off beta editor so :) what was originally going to be one massive chapter of s3 is now going to be broken down in shorter pieces!

series masterlist. main masterlist.

“Logan Roy was personally and fully aware of the crimes committed aboard Brightstar Cruises,” said the news reporter. “Kendall Roy says his father paid millions of dollars to hide and cover up criminal activity at the cruise line.”

You shut the tablet off, pinching the space between your brows as you drew out a deep exhale. 

“This is fucking insane,” Roman muttered under his breath as he scrolled through Twitter, under his brother’s trending hashtag. “He’s gone off the rocks.”

Leaning forward, you asked the twins, “You guys don’t think he’s telling the truth, right?”

Rome shot you a quizzical glance. “Kendall doesn’t know how to tell the truth. It’s against his biological nature.” After a moment, he let out a high-pitched, “But…”

“What?” asked Shiv.

“I may not be team Kenny here, but, uh… Dad isn’t exactly unsqueezable right now,” he said. His eyes met yours. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m wondering if Kendall just fucked us over. Again. I mean, obviously I didn’t want him to be the scapegoat for cruises but this is—this is just something else entirely.” Then you nudged Shiv. “What about you?”

The woman screwed her lips into a purse. “I’m thinking we just need to back Dad right now. But… what am I actually thinking?” She lowered her voice to a whisper you could only barely hear. “I’m thinking, ‘Is he toast?’”

Her brows pulled together, wondering if she should’ve divulged that information to either of you. 

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat. “I think there might be a chance that he could be burnt.”

The three of you stood in silence. Roman closed the stupid bird app before he could see another edit of his brother to a Lana Del Rey song, and slid his phone into his pocket. 

It was then that Hugo and Gerri strode up, expressions grim. A Kendall-shaped bomb was dropped on them, and they were all scrambling to get things together whilst Logan stared angrily out of a window.

“Hi. Listen, I’m drowning in calls,” said Hugo. “I just want to deny, you know, any kind of speculation. So, uh, I’m just checking—we’re all good if I say, for a starter, that he never hurt anyone and he never touched anyone personally?”

Roman scowled, as if it was a ludicrous question to even take into consideration, and Gerri answered on everybody’s behalf. “You can reassure on that, Hugo.”

A second later, Logan’s voice rang out from across the room. “Did you know?” he asked. “Connor? Roman? Shiv? Did you know?”

Apprehensive, the siblings crept closer to their father, who still had his back turned to them. You crossed your arms and listened on from behind Roman.

“Did you know he was going to do that?” he queried once they were all close by. “I was wondering.”

“Obviously not, dad,” Rome said.

A muscle in Logan’s jaw twitched. “Uh-huh.”

Roman scratched at the back of his head. “Kendall’s mentally ill. He’s insane.” He needs help, he wanted to say, but wisely bit down on his tongue before it could slip.

There was a long moment of silence. Shiv eyes darted from her father to her husband. 

Finally, Logan turned to face his children. “Everyone. Gather up! Battle stations—let’s go.”

The small group rounded around a table with Logan at the very head. It was Gerri who started with a proposal, all heads turned to listen to her.

“I suggest I call the DOJ, and we right away let them know how horrified we were to learn of these allegations. We can tell them we intend to form a special committee and we can inform them which white shoe law firms we are considering to thoroughly investigate and promptly report back their findings,” said the woman.

Shiv watched her godmother with mild unease. She was a woman to look up to, she was competition, she was better than anyone else here, and she was an accomplice. Then, her eyes darted to you, your fingers silently drumming along the table’s surface. There was no doubt Logan would be forced to announce his successor soon. Would you be competition for the throne, as well? You’d certainly make for a formidable CEO.

“Do we cooperate?” asked Logan.

There was a brief moment of puzzled silence.

Gerri’s brows furrowed as she replied, “With the government? Uh, yeah. I think we’re gonna have to cooperate. I mean, we were under pressure already—”

“Unless we don’t,” Roman cut in.

“That’s ridiculous. Not cooperating would be like shining the fucking spotlight right onto us. This is a public company—we tanked privatization in Turkey,” you vehemently protested.

To that, Gerri agreed. “We don’t know what they have or what they might get. There’s only one real play here.”

“What if I don’t want to pull down my panties so fast?” grumbled Logan.

“Then we pull up the draw-bridge. The story would be that he’s exploiting these poor women—and that’s very sad. Twitter would tear him apart. You were grooming him for the top and, wow, would you look at that? He relapsed, and he blew it,” Roman said. Both you and Shiv exchanged worried, distasteful glances. “He’s a bitter fuck-up that needs to be psychiatrically evaluated. Of course, you’re the big baddie, so everybody jumped on board.”

Brows cinching, Shiv asked, “What about these papers he says he has?”

“Uh… fake. Or stolen, if they even exist. Are we even worried about these papers? We’ll go after him for corporate theft, then,” he spouted off. “This is—you know—not a nice thing to say about your son, but maybe chop him up into a million pieces and throw him into the Hudson? 

You destroy Kendall, it falls apart.”

It was strange to think, just twenty-four hours ago, the two brothers were quite amicable with each other. As brotherly as people like them could be, at least. Now they were on opposite sides of the chessboard, waiting for the play.

Frank and Karl started listing off a couple stats, and Shiv sat forward in her seat.

“Kendall’s changed the game,” she said. “Noncooperation now, it wouldn’t—it’s just too hot out there. I think it’s very high risk.”

“Everything’s high risk if you’re a pussy,” Roman said, picking at his nails.

You frowned. “If we don’t cooperate, it’ll just make us look all the more guilty.”

And what if we are? The brief thought crossed your mind. What if everything Kendall said was true?

“If I stop picking at scabs and saying sorry, who knows where we’ll end up. Admissions of wrongdoing—that’s billions out the door,” Logan said. 

His words made your expression falter just a little bit. 

“Get the raisin,” your godfather told Hugo, referring to the American president. “Let’s go to the top.”

The planes heading back to New York were readied soon after. Just as you stepped out of the car that took you to the tarmac, your phone began to buzz in your pocket. To your relief, Roman was busy chattering to Gerri, and you were able to step away from the group to pull your phone out.

Kendall’s contact name stared right back up at you. You sucked at your teeth in thought, before swiftly answering.

“Hello?”

He sang your name then, in a pitch too high for his caliber. 

“What do you want?”

“What do I want?” he parroted. “I want you in, Y/N. You’ve got a premium spot right by my side, in the new company I’m going to build. You’re the glue, dude. You are.”

A shifty glance back at Roman and Shiv, Logan and Gerri. You took a few steps closer to the plane. 

“Is it true?”

“What?”

“What you said on TV. That Logan knew about cruises and paid it off.”

A brief pause.

“Obviously,” he said. “Obviously it’s true. I’d never lie to you, Y/N. You’re like—you’re like a sister to me, you know?”

“Have you called Shiv? Offered her a place, too? Roman?”

A longer silence. 

“No,” he finally said.

It was a lie, you knew it clear as day. But you didn’t know exactly which part of it was a lie.

“I can’t trust you,” you murmured into the phone, shifting the device in your palms. Roman’s eyes were now on you. He waved, and you waved back, shooting him a thumbs up when he gestured to the plane. “You understand that, right? I can’t trust you, as much as I want to.”

Before he could respond, you abruptly hung up, and quickly shoved your phone back into your pocket to jog to the rest of the group.

“Who were you talking to?” Roman asked once you caught up with him, mildly suspicious.

“Karolina,” you quickly lied. “She wanted to know what the play was.”

“Mmh. Right.” He nudged his shoulder into yours. “We’ll be okay.”

“I’m not so sure.”

Roman’s eyes searched yours, but you averted them when his dad approached the group. His sunglasses were perched high on the bridge of his nose—you could see your worried reflection in them. He asked for a lawyer: a good one, preferably a woman.

Lisa came to mind, one of the most reputable lawyers in the country, conveniently a friend of Shiv’s. 

“Shiv, Roman, Gerri, Y/N—you’ll all go back to manage New York,” said your godfather. “No need for me to go running back like a slapped girl. Looks weak.”

Pursing your lips, you offered him a nod. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Good,” he said, patting your cheek affectionately. Once, then twice, then his hand fell back down to his side. He used to do that when you were a young child, sporting pigtails and scraped knees. “Good.”

Then, he ruffled Roman’s hair. “Fuck off down there, Tumbledown Dick.”

And with that, the two of you, along with Shiv and Gerri, boarded the plane.

“As I step back temporarily…” began Logan, surveying Karl, Frank, Hugo, and Tom in front of him, “who do we like as CEO?”

They stared at him blankly. 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Logan huffed in exasperation. “It’s name plates. Come on! Brain dump. Speak, and let a hundred flowers bloom.”

Unsurprisingly, Frank and Karl didn’t hesitate to offer themselves up first. Tom watched the older men apprehensively. The two were quick to be pushed to the side, and Logan snapped his fingers.

“Who else?”

“I mean, I imagine you’re looking at a kid. Or Gerri,” said Frank. 

“Yeah. Yes. I’d like a kid, obviously. So—Shiv or Roman. But we’d love a woman. So, Shiv or Gerri. But I’d like experience. Which would be Roman or Gerri.”

Leaning forward in his seat, Hugo cleared his throat. “Well, there’s one obvious person who’s got all three of those. Y/N, she’s young, she’s a woman, and she’s experienced. A perfect candidate.”

Silence stretched thin between the men. Logan tilted his head in thought. Tom quietly excused himself to run to the bathroom.

On the plane heading to New York, Shiv’s phone began to ring, and she excused herself to the back where neither you, Roman, or Gerri could hear her. Gerri pushed her glasses further up her nose as she studied a text message on her phone. Silent, she gestured to the two of you to take a look. 

A message from Frank. They were picking a new CEO, right then and there.

When Shiv came back quiet as a mouse, Roman started up a bitchy catfight with his sister for not sharing with the group.

“How come Frank called you and how come you told them?” Shiv asked her godmother. 

Gerri shrugged. “I’m just a very straightforward person, Shiv.”

“What’d you hear?”

She glanced at her phone once more. “Just that there’s a number of names in contention.”

“All of us, probably,” you said with a mild grimace.

Roman slung his arm over your shoulders, jostling you ever so slightly. “Care to make it interesting? Throw a bit of money on the table?”

“I’m already pretty fuckin’ interested,” Shiv replied, nose wrinkling. “I think I’m good.” With that, she turned to her side to look out the window.

Drawing in a shallow breath, you loosely intertwined your hand with Roman’s. “You think you’d be ready to take on the mantle if you got the job?” you quietly asked him.

“Fuck, yeah. It should be me, right? I’m the most logical option.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering how much of what he’d just said was utter bullshit. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

Roman tapped your nose twice and you fixed him with an exasperated look. “Like you don’t agree with me. But you do, right?”

“I don’t know, Ro. I don’t think what Kendall pulled means you should suddenly be crowned king,” you muttered. “I don’t think any of us should.”

When you eventually passed out beside Roman, your legs thrown over his, he waved a hand in front of your face, just making sure you were actually asleep. As gently as he could, Roman slid away from your legs to get up and set them back down on his seat. He bent at the waist to kiss your forehead and you murmured something in your sleep, but thankfully didn’t stir anymore than that.

He made a bee-line for the plane’s bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Then, he called his father.

“Oh, Romulus,” Logan’s voice buzzed through once he answered after the second ring.

“Hiya, Dad. Can I just—can I speak to you for a moment? You free?”

“Sure.”

Roman leaned his weight against the sink. “Well, um, it’s already getting out what you’re thinking about so… I just wanted to throw a couple things in the ol’ lobster pot.” 

“Mhm.”

Squinting at his warped reflection, Roman said, “I think it should be me. It’s my time. I can do it, I want it, and I think I can pull it off.”

A long silence. 

Roman scratched at the back of his head, a bout of nerves suddenly scratching within his chest. “Uhm, yeah, I think it should be me. But… if you don’t think I’m ready, which, uh, totally valid, I would completely understand, and I’m not saying I’d agree with that, but, you know—maybe it could be Y/N. She’s… she’s a good, fresh face for the company. She’s good at this shit. All the corporate managing shit. And if—if she doesn’t work, Gerri is a prime contender, too. A couple years under her, then maybe… maybe it could be me.” He cleared his throat and drummed his fingers along the faucet. “And, listen, I know you’ve been sweet on Shiv. I love her like a brother, seriously, but I just don’t think that it’s time for her, you know? For whatever reason it ain’t Romey time, then, uh… maybe it’s crony time.” 

He winced. 

“Mmhm,” was all Logan said.

“I hope I haven’t, uh, overstepped here.”

On the other end of the line, Logan smiled. “Nope. Thank you, son.”

“Okay. Alright. I’d love it, but, uh, you know, I’d understand if—I do want it, though. No hard feelings if, uh…” He was rambling. Logan never liked it when he did that. One time when he was thirteen, Logan gripped his cheeks so tightly that it ached and snarled out a warning that if he heard another uhm come out of him, he’d toss him to the fucking wolves. Good times. “Yeah. Love you, Dad. Bye.”

“Uh-uh,” Logan said, and hung up first. He locked eyes with Frank. “Roman’s out.”

When the plane landed, Shiv got a call from Logan.

“What?” asked Roman. “What’d he say?”

“He wants me to go get Lisa to be his lawyer,” she said. “He told me to tell you guys to wait airport adjacent, though. He might need someone to fly to Boston for investors.”

You frowned. “Fuck. I thought I’d be able to go home for a bit.”

Shiv arched a brow. “You’re more than welcome to. But, you know, Dad wouldn’t like that very much.”

That kept the rest of your complaints quiet.

Once the four of you disembarked the plane, Shiv took a car to head after Lisa, and the three of you were taken to a fancy hotel nearby. 

Gerri got her own room right beside yours, and she told you to shoot her a message if anything of importance came up. You gave her a half-hearted smile and a nod. You were rooting for her, really.

Roman took a step in the direction of your room despite having his own across the hall, shooting Gerri a smirk and a salute before she could make her way in. “If you hear the bed rocking through the walls, that’s us having wild, passionate sex. Feel free to drop in if you want.”

Rolling her eyes, Gerri shut the door in Roman’s face.

The hotel was large and spacious, and you were quick to shed your outer layers, sinking onto the bed with a groan. 

“I miss home,” you said when Roman kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie. “I’ve been held hostage in a different country and then stuck on a fucking yacht with the most dysfunctional family for way too long. I wanna go home.”

He laid down beside you. He couldn’t really understand how you were feeling. His house was mostly empty and lacked any true life. It didn’t actually feel like his home.

“Yeah, I’m fucking exhausted.” he said nonetheless. Then he tugged you closer and pressed his nose against the side of your head. “But I’m not too tired, if you catch my drift.”

“I’m not having sex with you in a random hotel with Gerri next door,” you deadpanned, though there was a slight laugh to your voice.

Roman snapped his fingers. “Would you prefer to have her here, watching? You little sicko.”

Finally, you laughed, and shoved him away. “I’m tired, Ro. I’m gonna go take a shower and knock out.”

“Hm. Can I join?”

“You tell me,” you said, knowing that Roman wasn’t ready for that just yet.

The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds. Roman shrugged. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

You kissed his cheek quickly, before pushing off of the bed. 

A steamy shower later, you stepped out of the bathroom in the comfier clothes you made sure to pack. Roman sidled past you to wash himself up next, but not without pinching your side on the way. He shut the door and locked it before you could retaliate.

You waited until you heard the spray of the shower start up. 

Only then did you grab your phone, dialing Logan’s number. You hoped he was still awake. 

To your relief, he picked up after the third ring.

“Hi, Uncle Logan.”

“Hello, dear. You and Romulus are doing well in the hotel, I hope?”

You sat down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah! Yes, he’s just in the shower right now. So, I just wanted to clarify some things.”

“Go on.”

It felt as if there was a heavy weight on your chest. “I just… I know that you’re in the middle of picking a new CEO, and I know I probably look like a pretty good option to get the company out of hot water right now. But…” You exhaled softly. “I love you, Uncle Logan, but I don’t love this company. And I—I just don’t want to be the face of it.”

You drew your knees up to your abdomen and wrapped an arm around them. 

“Mhm,” Logan said.

“I hope that doesn’t, uh, hinder your perception of me in any way, but… yeah. I don’t want it. I’m perfectly happy with the job I have now. And—if you ask me, I think Gerri is the best person for this role.”

“Hm. Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate your honesty.”

Well… that was certainly a better response than you anticipated. You half-expected him to get angry and cuss you out.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. Did you do the right thing?

“Bye, Uncle Logan.”

“Sleep well.”

With that, the call ended. 

Five minutes later, you got a text message from Gerri. Two words, and that was it.

It’s me, it said.

Another one pinged through a minute later. 

Shiv blew it with Lisa.

Your brows raised. Roman was certainly going to have a field day once you told him.

You shot her a reply. 

Congrats, Gerri. I’m glad it’s you.

The next day, Shiv was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t answering her phone, and she’d turned off her location. Logan was beyond furious, yelling through the phone at both you and Roman to keep a watchful eye on Gerri and to try and find Shiv. Once the call ended, the two of you gave each other meaningful glances. There was only one place Shiv would go after she felt slighted. 

She’d gone to confront Kendall. Maybe to scope out what he was doing for Logan. Or maybe just for herself. You didn’t quite know her motif just yet.

“So… we’re going to Kendall?” Roman asked you.

“That’s where she’d be,” you replied. “But let’s not… tell your dad yet.”

“Sounds good with me,” he snorted. “He’d have a fucking heart attack.”

Before the two of you got into the car, Roman mumbled something about not wanting to turn up empty-handed, and bought a box of a dozen fresh cinnamon rolls from the airport. 

The drive there was quiet and tense. Roman began anxiously drumming his fingers on the car seat, then moved to doing it on your thigh and you didn’t bother stopping him. You pulled out your phone and shot Shiv a text, though you were nearly certain she wasn’t going to answer.

Everyone’s looking for you. I hope you know what you’re doing.

Once you got to Kendall’s base—which was just his ex-wife Rava’s house, because he had nowhere else to set up—Jess was the one to greet the two of you on the lower levels.

“Kendall’s a bit busy at the moment, but he’s told me to just send the two of you up.”

“Thanks, Jess,” you told her, not unkindly. Sometimes you felt bad for the woman. She was bright and intelligent and a hard-worker, and it was clear that she had so much potential. It was a shame she was glued to Kendall’s side.

An elevator ride later, the two of you stepped into Rava’s living room. And, to none of your surprise, Shiv was right there on one of the clean grey couches.

“Oh, wow. Lookie, lookie. Alright, okay,” deadpanned Roman. “How come you’re not answering your phone?”

Shiv lifted one of her shoulders nonchalantly. “I’ve had it off. No agenda.”

“Right. No agenda.”

“How is he?” she asked.

“Fine. Worried about you,” you said. You took a seat on the couch across from her and Roman took to wandering around, touching just about every single piece of decoration he came across. 

The red-head narrowed her eyes at you. “So, uh, how are you feeling about Gerri as CEO?”

“Great. I think she was the best choice.”

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t want it for yourself?”

“No.” There was no hesitation to your answer.

“Right.” Shiv laughed as if she didn’t believe you. “Of course you didn’t.”

Roman’s lips twitched as he leaned against the backrest of the couch, leering over his sister. “What’s your fucking game? What are you even doing here?”

“Why? What are you guys doing here?” she shot back.

“Here looking for you,” said Rome. 

“Sure.”

Rolling his eyes, Roman haughtily said, “As far as you know, that’s the fucking truth.”

Before anyone could say anything else, there were echoing footsteps down the hall, and Kendall appeared, a silly smile plastered across his face.

“Here he comes,” said Roman. “The attention whore.”

“Hey, Rome. Y/N.” He stood in front of his brother, glancing back and forth between you and him. “How are you guys doing?”

Tilting his head, Roman replied, “Great. Thanks for asking. It’s just been a really—great few days. You know, being a hostage held at gunpoint, and then my brother decided to fuck the family company over on a whim. It’s been great. How about you?”

“I’ve been good!” said Kendall, propping his hands up on his hips. “Certain amount of regret, but you know—pretty cleansed.”

 It took all you had in you not to heave out a grand sigh. “Cleansed,” you mumbled. “You could’ve just gone on a spa retreat for that. Didn’t have to pull all this shit. I think a clay mask would do you good.”

Kendall shot you a mildly amused look. “I needed to do this. And yeah—I still meant every word of what I said to you.”

You frowned. He was clearly alluding to the phone call where he was offering you a spot with him. “Right. Oh, and, uh—Ro brought you those cinnamon rolls from the airport.”

“That’s so sweet. That’s kind. Thanks, Rome,” said Kendall, glancing at the blue little box on the table.

“Shut up. Just eat ‘em or don’t,” Roman said, standing behind the couch and patting your shoulders. You reached over and rubbed his hand.

Finally, Kendall rubbed his palms together and addressed all three of you. “Look, guys, can we start on a clean slate? You didn’t like how I handled things with Dad. Sure. Whatever, I’m sorry. But that’s for me and him. Here’s the thing… he’s over, so let’s work together to take the company over and help him move on out.”

Roman wrinkled his nose. “Uhm… well, I’m just here to spy on Shiv, so—”

“And I’m just here to get you to back down,” Shiv told her older brother.

The four of you fell silent when a group of Kendall’s busy worker-bees crowded into the living room, holding stacks of files and papers and binders.

Shiv blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to tell you how much of an asshole you are, but can we do it somewhere we don’t have to fold in Rava’s dog-walker?”

“Yeah. Sorry, yeah. Follow me. Uh—we can go into her room. Sophie’s room.”

Roman helped you up off the couch and snorted, “I’m surprised he remembered his kid’s name. Uh, which one was she? Right! Sophie. Or was it Sophia?”

The two of you snickered under your breath, and filed into the room behind Kendall and Shiv.

“Don’t touch any of her shit,” said the oldest out of the four.

Of course, Roman reached out and brushed his hand along all the little toys and trinkets lining her desk and drawers. You were the last in the room, and you didn’t even get the chance to reach out and shut the door behind you before Kendall was rubbing his hands together.

“Okay. So… uh, it’s pretty simple, really. Let’s gang up on dad and take him down.”

“Well, fuck. At least wait until the door’s closed,” you said, just before kicking it shut. Patting Roman’s shoulder, you took a seat near the foot of Sophie’s bed while Shiv made her way to the very top.

Kendall grinned sheepishly, though you could see the apprehension in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you come to us before?” Shiv asked. “Because look—it’s a real fucking mess now.”

You thought back to the yacht. How Kendall was offered up as the sacrificial lamb, unexpectedly. Of course he’d have no time to confer with any of you.

The grin on his face seemed to taper away. “It came together in my head a bit late. And, you know—I mean, I knew what I was gonna do, but…”

Roman’s brows furrowed. “That was spontaneous?”

“Well, I spoke with a lawyer—”

“Oh, wow! He spoke with a lawyer?” Roman parroted in a mocking tone. 

“But they advised against it. I don’t wanna rehash it all but—I was effectively acting alone.”

The words made Roman roll his eyes so far into the back of his head it was a wonder he couldn’t see his brain. “Right. A spontaneous, heartfelt out-pouring of thoroughly lawyered emotion.”

“You guys can think whatever you want, in the end, of me. My offer still stands.” His eyes were on Shiv, then on you. 

You drummed your nails against Sophie’s soft blanket. “Kendall… you can’t just expect us to drop everything and trust you blindly. Do you understand how much we’d be risking? You have to give us something to work with here.”

Scoffing, Shiv said, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m here to get him to back down.”

“On Dad’s behalf,” Roman added. Was it a question or a statement?

Kendall nodded twice. “Right. Uh-huh. So if I say that I won’t back down and I’m not interested in negotiating any deals, you’d just call him and tell him to take a hike?”

Before anybody could say anything else, there was a knock at the door, and Jess’ head popped through.

“He’s here,” said Jess.

“What? Who?” asked Roman.

“Con. Yeah, send him in,” Kendall said. The grin was back on his face.

Roman laughed under his breath. “Right. Thought I heard a clown car pulling up.”

“Ideally I’d like to make a media appearance. All of us,” Kendall told the three of you. 

Immediately, he was met with noises of protest and sour faces. 

“Sweet,” Roman droned. “Are we gonna be wearing costumes that you have designed, asshole?”

“Yeah. That’s not happening,” Shiv chimed.

More hesitantly, you added on, “That sounds like an awful idea, Kendall. No offense.”

The door opened again, and Connor came in with a wide smile. He greeted Kendall with a hug, then swung his gaze to the rest of you.

“Pop’s looking for you guys, you know,” he said. He sat down beside you and rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. “You okay? You look tired.”

“Could be better, Con. Could be better.” You spared him a half-hearted smile, then shrugged.

Shiv leaned back against the headboard. “We’re here on his behalf.”

Connor laughed, and sent his half-sister an amused glance. “Oh, sure, honey. Me too. All about Dad. That’s why we’re all here.”

Bored, Roman began wandering around the room, glancing and poking around in Sophie’s walk-in closet. He pulled out a frilly pink t-shirt and held it up to his chest. “You think this color suits me?”

“Put that back,” Kendall admonished dismissively, but didn’t bother to take it away from him. Instead, he continued right on with the topic of conversation, taking a seat on an ottoman. “Okay, can we just—can we turn off the devices and get into this? If this shit was just epiphenomenal, maybe it could be ridden out. But these incidents are symptomatic of a foundational sickness within our father and this company.”

Roman snorted. “Hmm, don’t he use that tongue prettier than a twenty-dollar whore?”

Chuckling, Shiv tilted her head. “So what’s your point?”

“My point is… the milk is going sour. You know, the great whites from politics to culture, they’re rolling off the stage. It’s our time.”

“You mean us?” Roman asked, giggling. “The multi-fucking-ethnic transgender alliance of twenty-something year-olds we got here?”

You shot the man an incredulous look. “Kendall, you’re a rich, middle-aged white man. I’m sorry if your image doesn’t exactly scream woke extravaganza.”

He waved the two of you away. “Okay, listen. Big picture, we’re at the end of the long American century. Our company is a declining empire inside of a declining empire. People are killing themselves with guns or dope so fast that we’re losing pace. We’re, uh, we’re fat-fingered fucks and we can only live on cream. US supremacy is waning—”

“Why is that a bad thing?” you cut in, nose wrinkling. 

Kendall held his hand out, as if to gesture at you to keep quiet. “What I think is, within that context, we can become omni-national and reposition. Because actually, we’re not tied to anything culturally or physically. So, we’re actually in a great position to leapfrog tech. Information is going to be more precious than water. Combine all our news operations, and become the global news information hub.”

You winced. It was a bad idea. A terrible idea. It reminded you of the Pierce acquisition but just… a hundred times worse. And what the hell does omni-national even mean?

“Amazon is twenty years old, and Gates is an old geezer. Detoxify our brand, and we can go supersonic.”

Silence. Utter silence. 

You and Roman stared at each other, as if trying to reassure each other how bullshit everything he was saying sounded.

“What do you say?” Kendall asked. “Are we interested?”

Roman hummed. “Mmh. There’s just something about betraying our father that doesn’t sit well with me.”

“He’s a central player in a rotten cabal that has basically eaten the heart out of American democracy—”

“Rotten Cabal is a good name for a band,” Roman chimed.

“Dad’s not on trial for that, though, Ken,” said Shiv. 

Hotly, Kendall defended, “Maybe he should be.”

“If he didn’t do it, it would’ve been someone else making the same dollar off the same shit,” said Roman. 

Leaning his weight onto his knees, Kendall turned to look back at his brother. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe we’re all irrelevant. Maybe there’s always going to be death camps and maybe the planet is going to fry, and there’s nothing we can do. Or maybe… maybe people make a difference. I don’t know. Do you think human beings matter, Rome?”

The conflict danced across Roman’s eyes clear as day. It disappeared quickly once he crossed his arms and said, “I’m just gonna say it now—I’m a spy and I’m gonna go back and tell him everything. I’m with Dad, so… fuck you.”

Kendall frowned. “Fine. Fine. I actually don’t give a fuck. I can perfectly well do this alone. I’m actually just trying to be open-hearted and invite you in here. I mean, it’d actually probably be simpler to go alone, but I want to offer you guys a fucking ticket to the escape pod.”

“Nice fucking guy, huh?” Rome chortled.

Finally, the ball dropped. “You’re happy he went over your head and put in Gerri?” 

Roman’s expression fell. You knew he’d wanted the job. “I think Gerri is a good choice.” Shiv laughed, and Roman defensively spat out, “What?”

“Defend Dad all you want, but Gerri can look after herself.”

“Yeah, I know that, I’m not defending Gerri, I just—”

Shiv sat up straighter. “You can’t hide under the covers with Mommy.”

Roman shifted back a step. “Oh, fuck off, Siobhan.”

“No, no, let’s talk about it. You always need someone to hold your fucking hand. You use Gerri as protection, and then you run off to Y/N every time something just barely inconveniences you. You just love showing your pee-pee to everyone but someday, you know, you’re actually gonna have to fuck something.”

His nose twitched. “Fuck you. Bitch.” With that, he made his way to the door and stormed out of the room.

You and Connor both called after him, but he was already gone. 

“Okay… that was… that was low, Shiv,” said Con, frowning. 

“That was an overreaction!” she exclaimed.

Huffing, Connor shook his head. “Can we just try to keep things nice? Yeah?” He patted your shoulder again. “I’ll go check on him.” 

“It’s not my fault he’s got a sex thing,” Shiv laughed. “Was I too harsh?”

“You kidding? He loves it. He’s probably out there jerking off, wearing my ex-wife’s panties.”

You buried your face in your hands, pulling exasperatedly. “You guys are fucking assholes. You’re fucking two-faced, Shiv, and Kendall, you’re just… you’re just using us. Fuck. “Media appearance”? Give me a fucking break.”

With that, you stood up from the bed and made your way out of the room. Worry scratched away at your chest for Roman. You stepped into the living room, expecting to see him lingering around there, but you heard Connor’s voice echoing down the hall. He was standing in front of the closed bathroom door, a hand on the gilded doorknob, the other rapping against the wood lightly.

“Rome?” he asked. “You okay?” 

“Go away,” his muffled voice replied from the other side.

You stepped forward, right next to Connor. “Hey, Romeo?”

There was a pause. Then the door swung open.

“Hi,” you said, mustering up a tired grin. 

“Hi,” he said. Roman tried his best to mirror your smile, but failed miserably.

“You okay, Rome?” Connor asked again.

He shrugged, scratching at the back of his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed to piss. Am I not allowed to do that?”

Finally, you ambled another step forward and enveloped Roman into a tight hug. “What Shiv said isn’t true, you know. I’m the one that ran to you this time.”

Roman mumbled something into your shoulder, but you didn’t quite catch it. Maybe it was an off-handed thanks. At least, that’s what you hoped he said.

Connor smiled at the two of you with a huff, clapping a hand on each of your shoulders. “Maybe it’s time to head back. I don’t think we’re done discussing things. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

With that, you let go of Roman and nudged him back in the direction of Sophie’s bedroom. 

As soon as he made his way back in, Shiv met his gaze with a half-beam, half-grimace etched across her features. “Sorry,” she said. She didn’t really sound all that sorry.

“For what? I went to the bathroom,” Roman dismissively replied. “I don’t give a shit. You whore.”

Shiv smiled, and he grinned back. Haughtily, he snatched up your hand and crowded you into sitting down on the loveseat with him. He swung a leg up to throw over your thighs and you traced aimless circles along his shin. 

“Here’s how I see this,” Kendall started up, “Dad is complicated. But he did, or he let, bad stuff happen. Yeah? And now it’s a part of us and our sickness, and we have to take responsibility because we knew. This is our chance to pay our dues and wash our hands for absolution.

You narrowed your eyes. Knew? 

Thinking along the same lines as you, Shiv snorted out a derisive sound. “Okay, well… I didn’t know.”

“Sure, whatever, but—yeah, you did,” Kendall said. 

“No, obviously we didn’t know,” Shiv exclaimed. “Did you guys know?”

“No,” you were quick to say. “What kind of question is that?”

Roman leaned further back into the seat. “No, we didn’t know.”

Incredulous, Kendall rounded his gaze onto the two of you. “The fucking pipeline of sad dancers who got used and abused and promised some Hollywood bullshit? We all fucking knew.” 

Brows cinching together, Roman acquiesced by saying, “Yeah, well, I kinda knew about… you know, that there was some—but I didn’t know about any of the actual fucking… the fucking shit that went down. I really didn’t.”

“Come on, guys,” Connor said. “We knew.”

“Maybe you guys did,” you protested. “But I didn’t fucking know. I was a kid! We were kids!”

“But we still fucking knew! Okay? And I—I don’t like all this fucking bullshit!” Kendall propped his hands on his hips, staring down at his siblings.

“What did we fucking know?” Roman asked. 

“Yeah!” 

Leaning closer to his sister, Connor said, “Listen, I’m obviously not saying that you guys are responsible. But, come on. The guys, Dad, Mo—the wolf pack.”

“We knew,” Kendall parroted. “All those jokes and the weird vibes to the women and to the grubby fat-asses who took the cruises. The blind eyes and the pay-offs and the hush-hush about Dad’s pals or foreign workers who got crushed like—like meat in a fucking grinder with zero training! And, you know, no, it wasn’t our fault. And if you want to pretend that your shit doesn’t stink, be my guest, but we fucking knew.”

Solemn, Connor nodded. “We knew what those guys in Dad’s study were laughing about.”

Hotly, you said, “How many times do I have to say it? I didn’t know that the dancers were being sexually harassed! That—that fucking workers were being grilled under terrible work conditions! And I sure as hell didn’t know anything about these million-dollar pay-offs you love to parade around without actually showing us.”

Shiv drew in a breath. “We didn’t know what they were laughing about.”

“Don’t get in the pool with Mo?” Connor asked. “Remember that?”

“Well, yeah, that just sounds like fucking common sense,” you replied. “It was all so… grey. There were so many rumors. I just—I didn’t know if what Mo did actually happened or just a part of a huge fucking joke.”

“Yeah. And I didn’t get in the pool with any of those creeps,” said Shiv.

Kendall nodded, “Yeah, because he let those creeps run cruises.”

“No, Kendall, because I was fifteen!” Shiv finally asserted. “Y/N said it before—we were kids! Y/N was barely fourteen! We were hardly ever around them, and when we were, they were talking about shit we didn’t understand, and we didn’t want to understand. Because we were teenagers, and they were creepy old men that constantly told us about how mature we were for our age. Obviously we didn’t know what they were talking about, because we didn’t even want to know.”

Waving his sister’s words away, Kendall stressed, “Well, you know now, right?”

“Of course I fucking know now, that’s why we’re here in the first place!” Shiv yelled.

A beat of silence. 

Kendall’s shoulders squared. “This is all a sidebar. Okay? All I’m asking is for us to move forward from a position of truth.” 

“Are we excluded from this kingdom of heaven unless we accept the one true truth?” Shiv asked.

His phone dinged with a text message, and Kendall reached down to pull it out of his pocket. His kids were here.

“Look, I just wanna go hug my kids. Okay? I’ll be right back.” He started back out, making his way to the door. “We don’t even need to get into this. This is just sideshit.”

Once he was gone, Roman’s hand rested against the side of your face, gently pulling your head down to rest against his shoulder.

“We were kids,” you mumbled tiredly. Blurry memories of leering, smoking men and jaunty laughter crossed your mind. “How could I have known?”

Roman hummed, but he said nothing more.

“So… where are we at?” Shiv asked. Her question seemed to be directed at anyone in particular, but her eyes were on you.

“I don’t know. I don’t trust him. He clearly doesn’t trust us,” you said, pursing your lips.

Roman nodded. “We’re just hearing him out—then we report. It’s simple, Siobhan.”

“Right. Yeah. We gotta protect Dad… because if we knifed him now, he’d just bleed out, so…”

Roman reared his head back. “Hm. I don’t know about that.”

“Well, it’s just true. It’s a statement of fact.”

“Is it, though?” Roman wrinkled his nose. “It’s not necessarily true. This is Dad. He’s like fucking—fucking Moby Dick. He could take us all down with his back riddled with harpoons.”

Scoffing, Shiv arched a brow. “Yeah? You think he can take on all of us? If we back Ken, he’s toast. I’m not saying we should do it—we just need to decide what the fuck we’re gonna do because this is our moment.”

Finally, Roman’s features softened. He gave you a nudge. “What do you think?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “If all of us back Kendall, that’d spook Karl and Frank onto our side. Gerri, maybe. The board… they’ll be split at first, but I think most of them would be swayed with enough convincing. I don’t know. It’s hard to gauge.”

“It’s very hard to imagine him surviving if we allied,” Connor agreed.

“Yeah. Sure, it’s his board, but it’s a lot of fresh blood. A lot of fear. I think if we pulled a pin today, and tomorrow, we got a spooked board. We could win.”

Tilting your head, you asked her, “I’m confused, do you or do you not want to back Kendall?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On you guys!”

Roman shook his head. “My only concern with stabbing Dad in the back—it might actually kill him.”

You thought back to how scared and worried the two of you were when Logan was in the hospital. Certainly not something you wanted to relive.

It was then that the door opened once again, and Kendall stepped in. “So—where are we?”

“Okay. Let’s say you win, and take Dad out. I don’t see us coming through in the proxy battle. Shareholders don’t like confusion—they’ll pull out the moment they realize the condom ripped. How does the family stay in control?” Shiv asked.

“We give Dad the revolver, show him to the office, proxy battle is over,” Kendall stated matter-of-factly. “Sandy and Stewy will back down. I’ve spoken with them.”

“Busy fucking bee,” Roman snorted.

Bobbing his head, Kendall said, “If Dad went fast enough, we’d have a settlement. Look, guys, I don’t know what I think about Dad. Uh… I love him, I hate him—I’ll outsource it to my therapist. But he was going to send me to jail, you know. He’d do the same to you, Rome. Con. Shiv, I don’t know. Maybe. Don’t you guys see that? Y/N—he’ll… he’ll fucking throw you to the sharks if he needed to. I mean, how many years have you been scurrying around doing all of the yardwork for him?”

You met Kendall’s intense gaze, but you remained silent.

It was Roman who spoke instead: “Well, what would the shape of this new fucking reality be, anyway? Us leapfrogging Amazon?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re looking at 323 BC, naturally. Alexander’s dead. I take Asia, Rome takes Egypt, Shiv takes Europe, Y/N has the Americas, North and South. Con—the rest of the world.”

Connor smiled. “Thanks.”

“Separate divisions. I could oversee us as CEO on paper as we shift to these spheres of influence and evaluate what the core is. We move forward—”

A migraine began to pulse in Roman’s temple and he rubbed his head gingerly. “You’re overseeing us?”

A second of silence. “I’d offer my leadership initially as a—as a necessary part of a transformation process, yes.”

“You’d do that for us?” Roman mocked in a baby-voice. “Oh, you’re so generous! Thanks, Ken!”

“No! In your position, it just doesn’t work,” Shiv protested.

“It’s a stretch,” winced Connor in agreement.

“Stretch?” Roman scoffed. “It’s a fucking scrotum over a timpani drum!”

Shiv straightened her posture. “If I were to back you against Dad, I would need to take over.”

Both you and Rome made noises of surprise.

“What? Woah!” Roman chuckled and you drew in a cold inhale through your teeth.

“Shiv, I’m sorry, there’s absolutely no way you’d be able to steer us out of this mess—” you began.

“What? And you could?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, thinking back to the phone call you had with Logan in the hotel. “But I’m not going to. I don’t want the fucking top job. I’m looking at this from a neutral perspective, okay? You wouldn’t work.”

Kendall nodded vehemently. “You don’t have the experience, Shiv. It wouldn’t be possible. I wish it was, but it isn’t.”

“Come on, you’re a busted flush! I’m the only person who can reform!”

“You’re too divisive,” Kendall said. Shiv’s lips parted in offense. “I mean, I don’t see you this way, but people see you as the token woman, wonk, woke, snowflake. I don’t think that, but the market does.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mumbled, pinching the space between your brows.

“What? That’s bullshit!” she bit out, volume raising a notch.

Snickering beneath his breath, Roman said, “It’s true, I just spoke to the market. That’s exactly what they think.”

“Guys, listen. We’d get new directors, and a clean broom. And then we can figure out how to split the spoils.”

Shiv pursed her lips. “I have some calls to make,” she finally said, getting up from the bed. “But this stays in here, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Roman said.

“Yeah,” both you and Connor mumbled.

With that, she left the room.

Roman slipped away from you, saying something about taking his own call. You watched him go curiously, though you were already pretty certain he was going to call Gerri for her opinion, seeing as she was CEO now. With a nod to Kendall and Connor, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

You strode down the hall and shut the door behind you. The mirror above the sink’s reflection stared back at you, nearly unrecognizable. You looked so tired. Clothes wrinkled, hair disheveled, eyebags dark. All you wanted to do was go home and crawl into your own bed.

You sniffed, though you weren’t crying. You wanted to cry, though. A cry-session sounded really nice right about now. You blinked once, then twice. No tears, still.

Dejected, you went about your business, before rinsing your hands clean and stepping out to the rest of the siblings gathered in the living room now, all standing around a white box of donuts.

“Someone ordered dessert?” you asked with a mild laugh, quirking a brow at Roman. 

“Wasn’t me,” he said, jerking his head to Connor, who had a card in his hand.

“Dad sent donuts. Perfectly innocent, safe-to-eat donuts,” the oldest of the group announced. He lifted up the card. “He wants us all to have a nice tea party.”

Shiv glanced around shiftily. “What the fuck? Ken—did you tell him?”

“Shiv, come on,” he replied. “Why would I tell him?”

“To make him distrust us and force us to back you?” you offered, peering over at the donuts. Connor reached over to take out a glazed chocolate one from the center.

“I wouldn’t eat that,” Shiv told his brother. 

Incredulous, Connor said, “You really think he’d send poisoned donuts to the house of his grandchildren?”

“Yeah, I’m, like, ninety-eight percent sure those aren’t poisoned,” Roman chimed. 

Kendall shook his head. “Okay, guys. These aren’t relevant—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, these are really relevant donuts,” Roman protested.

Ignoring him, Kendall held up his phone. “Do we wanna? Guys—are we in? I’ll make the call right now. We can say it tonight. It’ll be over. New dawn.”

A terse silence settled over the rest of you.

“Con, stop staring at the fucking donuts, man. Focus!”

With that, the eldest sibling dropped the card on top of the donuts. “I’m out,” he said.

Kendall’s eye seemed to twitch. “Alright, then. You’re irrelevant, anyway.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

“Go on. Leave. You’re not wanted. You’re not wanted, Connor! Leave!”

“Don’t be fucking mean, Kendall,” you snapped. 

Roman shook his head. “Yeah, as if he hasn’t heard that enough already.”

“I just don’t wanna destroy Dad. I’m a national figure. It’s not right to kill one’s father.”

“Yeah, you’re a prick!”

You shot Connor an apologetic glance, but he simply shook his head, gathered his jacket, and took his leave.

Kendall then rounded on his younger brother. “Roman. Come on, man. Let’s do this.”

“Uhm… pass.”

“Pass? Why?”

Roman pulled a sour face, as if he’d just licked a lemon. “A number of reasons, really.”

“Like what? You think I can’t win? Dude—we can win this together. We’ll fucking win! There’s enough for us all, Rome.”

“I told you. I’m with Dad. I always have been.”

Shaking his head, Kendall spat out, “You’re a fucking moron.”

“Don’t call him that!” You bristled. He sounded just like his father. 

Kendall looked to his sister. “Forget them, Shiv.”

“I’m with Dad,” she said, plainly. Roman laughed, and Kendall’s expression fell.

“Why?” he asked.

She crossed her arms and shrugged. “Why? I don’t need to tell you.”

“Yes, you fucking do! Is it the goddamn donuts? Have you been spooked by fucking donuts? That’s pathetic, Shiv! Why? You owe me an explanation!”

Shiv tossed her head back and laughed at the irony. “Oh, yeah! Because you’ve always been so careful to keep me informed.”

“What is it? You don’t believe me?” he asked. “Obviously, you believe me! So you’re literally doing the wrong thing over the right thing here?”

Her eyes were intense on her brother. Exhaling lowly, Shiv said, “I can see that you’re angry, but don’t project your disappointment onto me. I should go.”

“Is it cowardice or avarice? I just wanna know,” Kendall called out. “Is it because you won’t take over? Is that it? Good luck with sleeping on that, Shiv.”

“Fuck you, plastic Jesus.”

“You’re a fucking twat.”

“I was the one you wanted. Rome and Connor don’t even matter to you,” she said.

“Yeah, because you’re the fucking token girl! Girls count double now, didn’t you know?”

“No, I know.” There was a crack in her voice. “I fucking know.”

“It’s only your teats that give you any value! You’re calling it wrong, Shiv. You’re fucking over the victims. I hope you know that! Well done, you dipshit!”

She shot you and Roman narrowed glances, before sauntering out of Rava’s apartment.

Finally, Kendall turned to you. His last hope. He stepped closer to you, until he was just in front of you. “Y/N, just listen. You—we could make this work. You’d be the fucking—the fucking glue. The brains. You’re good at this. You know people, you have connections. It could work. You don’t need them.”

“I don’t trust you,” you whispered. 

And there it was. There were the tears. Stinging the corner of your eyes and just barely blurring your vision. Only this time, you didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Kendall. 

Kendall took your hands loosely, and you couldn’t find it in you to pull away just yet. Roman watched on with part caution, part disgust. 

“Remember—remember when we were kids and I told you that I would be leading the company one day? That you could be there with me? Remember that? And you made me swear to give you all the fucking strawberry popsicles you wanted. You could have it all, Y/N. It’s so fucking close.”

You remembered. Of course you did. “I don’t know, Kendall. I don’t remember.” Swallowing, you pulled your hands away from his. “You’ll just use me, Kendall. You’ll just use me and then toss me to the side.”

“That’s what Dad is doing to you right now. I’m not like him. I won’t do that.”

Your expression hardened and you wiped away the tears. “I can’t back you.”

For a moment, you wondered if Kendall was going to scream.

“Fine,” he said, eerily quiet. “You’re an asshole. Both of you.”

Roman took your hand and began to tug you to the elevator.

“You’re all pricks. Fucking idiots. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing!”

He kept calling you and his siblings a variety of colorful insults, but they all blurred into white noise when Roman hurried you into the elevator, his arm wound around your waist.

“Home?” you asked. You were so, very tired.

He nodded. “Home.”

“Will you stay over?”

He kissed your head, chaste and barely there. “Yeah. Sure.”

The company’s annual shareholding meeting started early in the morning. It’d been a few weeks since the eventful night at Rava’s place, and you’d been swamped with work ever since then. Shiv had been promoted to President of Domestic Operations—which was just a fancy title that meant little to nothing—and shortly after, the FBI had raided the company building.

Yeah. All sunshine and rainbows at Waystar right about now.

A vote would completely be slanted away from the Roys, and that only left them with the option of negotiation with Stewy and Sandi.

“We’re gonna lose the company,” said Shiv, hands propped on her hips. “We’re going to lose the fucking company today.”

The rest of you were sitting around on the couches, waiting for Logan to arrive. He was late, as he often was nowadays.

Roman tugged at the lapels of your dark blue pantsuit, wrangling your attention back to him. He offered you a wry smile. “Say, if I lose my job here, do you think I could find work behind a cash register at Target?”

“Haven’t you heard? All those jobs are being taken up by broke college students with at least two bachelor's degrees under their belt,” you dryly replied. He barked out something akin to a laugh. Since he was straightening out your suit for you, you reached out to fix his loosely-knotted tie. Once you were done, you patted his cheek fondly and pulled your hands away. 

It was then that Logan came ambling through the entrance, clutching a dark cane in one hand and Kerry right behind him. 

“There he is. The big beast,” Roman said. “Ready to kick ass with his ass-kicking boot.”

“You heard?” Shiv queried him, without bothering to even say hello. “You know where we’re at?”

Logan stared at his daughter for a good few seconds. “Uh-huh,” he finally said, stoutly. Then, he looked to senior management. “Karl? Gerri?”

The man shrugged. “Uh… I guess we have to delay the vote. Squeeze Sandy and Stewy’s airtime. Run the long versions of the speeches. ”

Gerri spoke up, “I emailed a list of assigned shareholders for last minute persuasion.”

“Good, good. Yes,” Logan said. He sounded winded.

Brows furrowing, Shiv incredulously asked, “That’s it? There’s nothing else we can do?” There was an anxious lilt to her voice.

“What about the Raisin?” Logan asked. The president.

Shiv, Tom, and Cyd scrambled to answer for him, and he barked out a few more orders, before taking a seat.

Gerri’s phone began to ring, and her eyes widened when she checked the caller ID. “It’s Stewy Hosseini,” she said. “Should I take it?”

Wordless, Logan nodded once. 

The call was short, but brief. Gerri’s eyes were narrowed and calculating when she hung up.

“They want to meet up,” she announced. “They have thoughts.”

Head tilting, Roman asked, “Thoughts? What kind of thoughts?”

“Ideas for a deal space around a settlement,” Gerri told the group.

“Fucking A! That’s great!” exclaimed Roman, before he was cut off by his father.

“Why have they suddenly decided to settle?” he asked, voice low.

Shiv replied, “Well, because they know it’s the smartest move?”

“Or they’ve had bad news,” Logan said. “What do they know that we don’t?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “Well—we’d find out when we speak to them.”

Logan shook his head. “No. I’m not doing a tap dance. Shiv, Karl, Gerri, Y/N, Romulus—go and report back.”

Lifting a hand, Frank offered, “I think that’s smart. Yeah. But, uhm, Gerri should be out front helming, so should I go?”

“We nail you to the cross, Frank, alright?” Logan dismissed. “Let Sandy do the soft shoe. He’s wriggling. Let’s screw them out.”

The hotel you were meeting them at was lavish and over-the-top—you expected nothing less from Sandy and Stewy. 

Inside the elevator up, Roman queried, “Does Sandy really have syphilis? What if he has sores all over his body? What if his groin’s all eaten away and the top half of him just falls off?”

“That’s disgusting, Rome,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

He stuck his tongue out at you. “You’re disgusting, fuck-face,” he shot back, childishly.

Gerri hummed. “I think we started that syphilis rumor.”

Raising a brow, you exchanged a look with Roman, neither of you all that surprised. Gerri was a cutthroat, cold-stoned bitch (in Roman’s words), and she’s definitely done worse than starting up a few nasty rumors.

“Late stage symptom is dementia, I believe,” said Karl, tucking his phone away into his back pocket.

Roman laughed. “You been doing some late night, panicky googling, Karl?”

With that, the elevator doors slid open, and the group filed out down the hall. A hotel employee showed you into one of the larger suites, where Sandy, Sandi, and Stewy were situated amongst plush seats. 

“Hey,” Sandi greeted with a cautious smile. “Thanks for coming. My father is very excited to see you all.”

You glanced at her father, who was slumped over on a wheelchair and silent. It seemed his condition had worsened much more than you expected. You took a seat beside Gerri, and Shiv stiffly eased down next to you. Roman lingered behind, far too restless to sit.

“Look,” said Stewy, pulling your attention away from the older man to him, “after careful consideration, if we can make a deal here, we’re willing to agree to a standstill. No takeover. Provided we lead on deal-making options moving forward, we’ll accede to a continuation of combined Chairman and CEO roles, so that’d be all yours.”

“I think that sounds reasonable,” said Gerri. 

“And the three board seats?” Stewy asked. His eyes darted from the siblings, to you, to Gerri and Karl.

Nodding, Shiv said, “Including yours? We can do that right now—I have my dad’s authorization to go there.”

“Would you be willing to sign off on this?” you asked. Stewy’s gaze met yours, mildly amused. “We’d like something physical to hold onto.”

Sandi then leaned forward when her father began to mumble under his breath, too quiet for you to decipher from where you were sitting. 

“He wants our costs covered,” Sandi finally said. That was reasonable. Then, she added, “And… veto right over any Roy family member ever taking over as CEO.”

Your brows furrowed. Gerri seemed just as taken aback by this condition as you were. 

“Stewy?” she asked, hoping he’d give some sort of clarification.

“That’s what the man said,” Stewy replied languidly. “It’s a very important protection for us.”

Wincing, Roman scratched at the back of his head. “I feel like I just have to put it out there and say it, since there’s a eighty-five billion dollar baby on the table here… how do I know he’s not your… meat puppet?”

The term made you think of Kendall before he’d waged war on his own father. 

Sandi smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I just do what my dad tells me, like you guys.”

“You mind if we take a beat?” Gerri asked, standing up. You stood with her, following her to the next room. Stewy said something snarky, but you consciously chose not to listen.

Karl ducked his head and whispered, “Well, I mean, other than the new proposal, it’s a very, very attractive prospect.”

Shiv frowned and incredulously bit out, “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing to discuss. It fucks us and it’s designed to humiliate dad!”

“It’s all just optics,” Gerri defended. “I’m not sure it’d even stand up.”

“You could probably work around it if it ever came to it!” Karl piped in.

“Uhm, with all due respect, Gerri—get bent,” said Roman. 

Shaking her head, she reasoned, “I know it’s humiliating, and I’m sure your dad would agree, but given where we’re at, I have to check in with him. Sorry, excuse me.”

With that, she stepped away to call Logan.

“Is she gonna fuck us?” Shiv asked. 

Roman pulled a face. “No. I don’t know.”

“Logan’s not going to say yes,” you murmured. “He wouldn’t allow it. It’s pride over everything, no?”

Shiv shot you a sharp look, but she didn’t say anything. From farther away, Gerri hung up the phone and made her way back to Stewy.

“We will meet your costs, but… no veto,” she told them. Of course—Logan wouldn’t refuse to be the first to bend the knee.

Sandy began murmuring again, and Sandi leaned in to listen. 

“We need the veto,” she said once she backed away.

“Is there no alternative shape here?” Gerri queried, shaking her head.

Growing frustrated, Shiv said, “Come on, Sandi. We all want this to work.”

With one final lean-in, Sandi nodded her head at her father’s mumbled words.

“We’re gonna go have a think. But, uhm… it’d be a shame if all this hard work is destroyed over a small detail,” she finally concluded. “Thanks for coming to see us.”

You blew out a breath and scratched at the back of your head—a habit that you seemed to pick up from Roman.

The two of you began walking out, and Gerri caught up, just a step behind. “Sorry, about back there—”

“About what? Trying to fuck me over to consolidate your position?” 

“No. It just seemed to make sense. Business-wise.”

Roman shot her a glance over his shoulder. “Throwing me overboard to drown? You picked your prince, Gerri, don’t fuck it up now.” He began to walk faster, and you gave her an apologetic shrug. 

“We got this in the bag, Gerri. Don’t—don’t worry about Roman.” 

She patted your shoulder with a reassured smile. “I can count on you to keep him in line, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

With one final nod, you jogged ahead to catch up with Roman, linking your arm with his. 

“Hey, stompy,” you greeted, bumping your hip into his. “Stop pouting. Gerri was just trying to broker a deal. It’s not her fault they suddenly wanted a veto right.”

“I know. I’m just fucking—worried that I’m making the wrong choices all the time.”

“Yeah. But you’re doing okay. We’ll be fine. Everything’s going to blow over in a few months, just watch.”

The corner of Roman’s lips tilted into a lopsided smile, and hummed out that hyena-laugh of his. “You are so fucking fake. Y’know what the fucking Gen-Z’ers are calling it now? Toxic positivity. That’s what you are. A barrel of toxic, radioactive, neon-yellow smiley emojis. I love it. Never change.”

He kissed your cheek then, sounding out an obnoxious ‘mwah!’ before tugging you into the elevator.

By the time you rejoined Logan, Karolina, and Tom (hell, even Greg was there), Gerri’s phone began to ring again.

“It’s Sandi.”

“Which one?” Connor asked.

“The one that can talk,” Gerri deadpanned. She gave Logan a confirming glance, before answering it. Her expression rippled with incredulity and apprehension. “Uh… are you sure about that? Alright, but—seriously?”

With one final sigh, she hung up the call.

“They have one more proviso,” she told the group. “They want to take away the private jets.”

“What? No!” Roman protested.

“They said it’s elitist and out of touch.”

A frown crossed his face. “Duh-doy, but—no. They’re just trying to humiliate him.” He gestured to his father, who was slumped in a chair, eyes staring aimlessly at the ground.

“Was it real or were they just basting the turkey?” asked Karl.

“I don’t think Sandy’s the kind to be pulling a prank on us, Karl,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “It’s gotta be real.”

Gesturing emphatically, Shiv said, “Let’s just eat it, Dad. You can tell them to fuck off later.”

“Yeah, we can just offer to cut personal use, or put on a mileage cap,” offered Karl.

“No!” Roman protested once more. “We give them this—first they come for the PJs and we say nothing, then they come for the outsized compensation payments, you know? This is—no. This is bullshit. They’ll back down, they won’t blow it over this. Right?”

He looked at you, and you lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. They’re fishing for something here, but we still have to take them seriously.”

“Dad?” Roman asked.

The older man was silent for a long time.

“Hm.” He paused, glancing around. His eyes were glazed over. “I need to piss.”

“Oh,” said Shiv, uncertain. “Do you… do you need some help, or should I reach out and call—?”

Logan ignored her, and pointed at Tom. “You.” He loosely gestured at the rest of you. “Stay.”

“You want to make a decision now, before you go? Dad?” Shiv called out after him, but he was already walking away.

“Is he—is he okay?” you whispered into Roman’s ear. “He doesn’t look too good.”

Roman pulled a sour face. “He’s fine. He looks fine. Why, you think something’s wrong with him?”

“Well, I don’t know, he’s just acting so weird. This is—this is a big fucking deal and he’s been shrugging it off like it’s chopped liver.” At Roman’s worried look, you gripped his arm and squeezed comfortingly. “I mean, I don’t know, though. Maybe he’s okay.”

Nearly fifteen minutes later, you were about to eat your own words. 

Logan was most certainly not okay. When he came back, he was out of breath, and his eyes were unfocused.

“What’s it gonna be, Logan?” Gerri asked. “We need an answer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you think? Yes or no?”

A staggered exhale and a wild look around. “Fuck ‘em,” he finally spat out.

Shock spilled over the group. Shiv made noises of protest.

“Fuck ‘em!” he repeated, gruffer this time.

“I—are you sure, Dad? That’s… you sure you wanna do this?” Shiv asked.

His breathing was getting heavier and heavier. It was clear to you that business was the last thing Logan should be thinking about right now. You stepped forward, concern splayed over your features.

“Uncle Logan, are you okay?” you asked, under your breath. He didn’t give you an answer, but you took his arm to slowly lead him to a seat. It didn’t go past your notice that he was sweltering hot and trembling quite a bit—you could feel the heat and the quaking through the fabric of his suit. 

Despite the fact that he was in no state of mind to be negotiating, Gerri and Shiv pushed him. “Do you know something, or…? That’s a big call you’re making.”

“Pills!” Logan hissed to Colin, who came forward immediately.

“I just gave you some, sir. You need something else? Tylenol?”

Logan nodded, mumbling incoherently beneath his breath.

The rest of the group discussed what the next steps were, and a part of you wanted to join and offer your input, but you stayed by Logan’s side. 

When Colin returned with the Tylenol, you furrowed your brows and told him, “He’s, uhm, he’s really hot. Like—feels like he’s burning up. Can we—do we need to go get him a medic, or…?”

“I’m fine,” he said, waving away your words. But then he smiled at you, and that was the most surprising thing of all. “Thank you, dear.”

“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything.”

“What’s going on with the Raisin?” he asked.

Gerri, overhearing, stepped closer with cinched brows. “I’m sorry, with—with the President?”

“Can we get Ravenhead on air?” Logan queried. “Call Michelle-Anne. Tell her to get the SEC to shut this meeting down.”

It was clear that Logan was spouting out utter nonsense, and you exchanged several confused looks with the rest of the group. 

“Okay… we’ll look into that,” said Karl.

“I need a piss,” Logan announced once more. Hadn’t he gone just a few minutes ago? “Where is he?” 

Tom pointed at himself. “Who, me? Again? Yeah? Sure—okay.”

Greg, who had just returned from sending off a note to Frank on stage, came bounding back to the group, sweat and hair slightly disheveled. “You guys going off to the bathroom?” he asked Logan and Tom.

Logan stared at his grand-nephew incredulously. “What fucking business is it of yours?”

You and Roman glanced at each other. “Jesus. You were right. He’s off his rocker,” Roman whispered. 

A few minutes later, Logan staggered back with Tom helping him, and Shiv came forward to ask if he was alright. To everybody’s surprise, Logan called his daughter Marcia, and then started rambling on about a speech he was meant to give.

Tom came up to the rest of the group. “Hey, uh, hey everybody—Logan’s not really himself right now.”

Shiv rushed back after phoning Kerry. “He’s got a fucking UTI.”

“That explains it,” you said, glancing back at Logan, still murmuring something to a nodding Colin. 

“Well, is that—I mean, no, it isn’t. It’s not that fucking serious, is it?” Roman asked. He was worried, you could see it clear as day. 

“At his age? That can make you crazy!” said Connor. “Reagan had one and nearly nuked Belgium.”

“What?” Shiv asked, incredulous. “How long has he been like this? What the fuck?”

Brows furrowing, Gerri chimed in, “Was he like this when he risked the whole company?”

“Nobody hears about this,” Shiv warned, voice steely. “What do we do?”

“Get a doctor,” you said, as if it were obvious. 

“Can’t we just get him some cranberry juice and ask him about the deal again?” Roman asked.

Tom shook his head. “He was just asking for Caroline.” 

“Oh,” said Roman, mock-pouting. “Aw. He misses mom.”

“He’s gone mad,” Shiv blew out. 

“Well, we don’t actually know when he got this way. We don’t!” Roman said. 

“No, no, I think he’s been piss-mad for quite some time,” Tom interjected, glancing back at Logan. “Shiv, do you think—should you overrule him? Go back to Sandy and Stewy and say we’ve changed our minds?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “Logan’ll be furious.”

“How can he be furious when he can’t even tell me apart from his wife?” Shiv shot back. 

Haughtily, you told her, “I’m saying when he’s gotten through it, he’ll be angry that you went over his back—!”

Before you could finish, Hugo came running up. “Guys—he insists that he still has to give his speech.” He hurried off when Logan called his name. Or, a garbled version of it.

“Can he give his speech?” Karolina asked. 

“What? The demented fucking piss-mad King of England?” Roman responded with a scoff. 

“He could say anything up there. No fucking way,” Shiv asserted. “I say we drop it. Right?”

“But at the very least, he should be onstage,” persisted Gerri.

Karl nodded along. “It would be great to get the body up there.”

“Right. Like a human fucking spectacle,” you said, cocking your head. “You don’t think people would find it weird that he’s up there and not saying anything?”

“Okay, we’ll just push it as late as we can, and maybe if we can just get him on stage, that’d be enough?” Shiv proposed.

Connor laughed. “Oh, yeah, maybe send him up through a trapdoor surrounded by dry ice.”

“Where is this doctor, anyway?” Gerri asked.

With no time for anyone to reply, Hugo hustled back to the group, expression twisted with uncertainty. “Uhm… he’s concerned there is a dead cat under his chair.”

Everybody blinked, clueless. 

“Great,” said Shiv. “That’s great.”

“Well, is there anything under his chair?” Gerri whispered, ducking her head to check herself. 

You stared at your godfather from afar, watching as he vehemently gestured down below his seat. 

“He says that, uh, he doesn’t want Rose to see it,” said Hugo. “And he wants Colin to take it out.”

Rose. The name sounded familiar, something you’ve surely heard in passing, but you couldn’t quite place who she was.

Clearly, Roman was beginning to grow more and more agitated, and he gritted out, “Fine. Have Colin take it out. Jesus Christ.”

Finally, Kerry arrived, hurrying to grab her bag, mumbling something about doctors and pills and secrecy. As if to make it even worse, Kendall appeared out of nowhere, and Shiv let out a long and loud string of curses.

“Great—hey, who invited you?” Roman sneered at his older brother.

Kendall ignored him. “What the fuck is going on? He’s squashing the fucking deal?”

“It’s fine! It’s fucking fine—we got it under control,” Roman vehemently pressed, though it didn’t sound too convincing with Logan in the back yelling for the cat to be carried away. The cat that didn’t, in fact, exist.

“You have to turn this around right now!” Kendall yelled. 

“We’re figuring it out,” Shiv told him.

Logan screeched again and grumbled incoherently, shifting on his chair.

“What—what the fuck is going on with him?” asked Kendall.

“The doctor’s coming, Ken,” you tried to reassure him, but he shook his head.

“No, no, I want to know what’s wrong with him!”

Colin hurried away with an empty box—supposedly holding the dead cat. A part of you wondered if this dead cat was a distant memory from Logan’s past. Maybe he was trapped in a fragment of time he could never quite move on from.

“What is that?” Kendall took a few steps to follow after Colin, but halted to look back at his siblings in utter confusion. “Guys, what—?”

“Can you just leave, please?” Roman hissed. “That is an imaginary cat, now can you please fuck off?”

Raising his voice, Kendall addressed the entire group, voice stricken and strained, “Listen to me very carefully. This is you throwing it away. You think they’re bluffing? They’re not fucking bluffing! And you’re putting everything I have fought and bled for on the fucking edge and I am not gonna let that happen! Do you understand me?”

“You’re not welcome here,” Shiv said, cold. “You have no right to be here.”

“Fucking fix it!” he yelled. Kendall sounded like his father.

“You may go! You’re excused!” Roman told him. “Thank you very much for your concern, please go.”

You and Connor stayed silent, watching the other three scream at each other.

“Go! You’re fucking delusional!” shouted Roman. “There’s a fucking delusional man leaving here!”

Kendall began to walk away, but not without screaming back, “Figure out a fucking doctor or I’m calling mine!”

“Thank you so much for your concern, like you give a flying shit!” Roman spat back. “You probably slipped him something, Putin! You piece of shit! Fuck off!” 

It was a game of tug-of-war, and both sides were backing into a cliff’s edge.

Roman was taking out his frustrations and his fear onto his brother, and you stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest.

“Hey, Rome, that’s enough. He’s—he’s leaving, okay? Bye, Kendall.” You brushed a stray strand of his hair away from his forehead. “It’s fine. You need to… you need to take a beat.”

Roman pulled a pained expression, his features crumpling under the weight of stress. He nodded several times, before crossing his arms and walking off to get himself a swig of water. 

When the doctor finally arrived, you pointed him towards Logan, quickly explaining what he’s been like for the past half an hour. He nodded and got to work, pulling out a few medical instruments to check up on Logan.

“So—how is he?” Shiv asked the doctor.

“I’ll put him on some fluids to hydrate him—it should be pretty quick.”

“Will he definitely be okay?” Roman asked

The doctor didn’t have the chance to reply when Shiv cut in, “But how quick, exactly?”

“Well… he’s not a cup of instant noodles.”

“Sure, but can we speed it up? Like a—a blood bag or an adrenaline shot?”

Roman scowled. “Geez, take it easy. You wanna give him a fucking Tabasco suppository?”

“Fuck you! It’s what he’d want,” Shiv defensively replied.

“Fuck you, too. The main thing is that we look after him, okay?” Roman slung an arm over your waist and you leaned into him with a sigh. 

“Obviously, I agree.”

“Oh, do you, though? Sounded like you want to jumpstart our father like he’s a fucking pick-up truck!” Roman uneasily glanced at Logan, who’d fallen asleep on the chair. “Shit. Can you guys call us when he’s less… scary?”

With that, Roman dragged you away from the group. You could still feel Shiv’s angry eyes burning into your back.

“Where are we going?”

“Bathroom.”

“And do you want me to aim your penis for you?” you asked, laughing slightly. “Why are you making me come with you?”

Roman shot you a loose grin. “I could come up with twenty different sex jokes with what you just said. But I’m not going to, because I’m a gentleman.”

“He says, as he shoves me into the men’s bathroom,” you scoffed, before striding in and locking the door behind you. “I hope you’re not looking for a quickie here. I don’t think it’s very sanitary.”

Laughing nervously, Roman’s grip on your hand left so it could curl over your hip, tugging you close. 

“You don’t want a little distraction? Just give me five minutes,” he mumbled. His head dipped forward to kiss the junction between your neck and your shoulder. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” you whispered, so low that Roman only barely heard it.

In truth, he didn’t know, either.

“Besides, I don’t think we’d have the time, anyway. The floor is fucking lava out there,” you murmured. “Also, I wouldn’t want our first time together to be in a bathroom at a shareholder’s meeting.”

Roman smiled, almost shy, almost disbelieving. “First time? Wow. Is this your way of telling me you want to have sex with me?”

“As if you wouldn’t throw yourself on your knees begging for it,” you bit back, wrinkling your nose affectionately. Then, you cupped his face and kissed the side of his nose, leaving a faint mark of lip tint against his skin. You smiled at that. “You’re cute, Romeo. But I know you. If you wanted to have sex, you’d be dry-humping me against the sink as soon as we stepped foot in here. What is it you actually want to talk about?”

Roman blew out a heavy sigh. His hands fell away from you as he hoisted himself up onto the sink and leaned against the pristine mirror. “I wanted to come clean to you. No secrets right? During the plane ride back to New York, I called Dad. I told him I wanted the top job, but I also told him that… that you and Gerri would be my second choices if he didn’t think I was ready. I just—I wanted to know if you maybe gave him a call, too?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I did.” You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “I told him that I didn’t want it.”

“Oh.”

“And I told him that Gerri would be my choice.”

Roman’s eyes met yours. They twitched with incredulity. “And you didn’t—you didn’t mention me anywhere in there?”

“I didn’t.”

“Wow. Great fucking friend you are.”

“Rome—”

“You chose the croney over me?”

Your features hardened. “Rome. Fuck, I just… I told him I didn’t want it because I didn’t want to be marked as the token figure that roped the company out of hot water. And I don’t want that for you, either. Don’t you get it? Not to mention it’d ruin your relationship with your siblings.”

“So you just—you don’t think it’d ever be me?” Something in his voice broke.

“It could be,” you admitted. “But I don’t want it to. Not now, at least.”

There was a longer silence. Roman pulled at his face tiredly. 

You opened your mouth again, but he waved you away. “I know, I know, you didn’t offer me up because you love me and you’re trying to protect me. Thanks, fuck-face.”

He hopped off from the sink, cradling the back of your head so he could give you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“You still up for that quickie?” you tried to joke, nudging him with a half-hearted smile.

“Sorry, I’m saving myself for Marcia. Nothing like fucking your father’s leftovers, I’d say.”

The two of you laughed and linked arms, unlocking the bathroom door to walk out and make your way back to the group.

It seemed that the two of you came back at the perfect time, because Shiv was worriedly telling everyone, “His moans are getting louder.”

“Okay, but can he do that on stage?” Hugo questioned.

“Is it a wheel-on and wave situation?” 

“Fuck, no. We’re not gonna make the piss-mad bear dance with fucking cattle prods!” Roman angrily put out. “We need to be looking after him.”

Shiv propped her hands up on her hips. “So he’s not gonna do his speech? Is that it, though? Do we just—does that mean we go down? We’d fucking give up?” She hurriedly turned and asked one of the analysts what the stats on the vote were. “God, okay. I think we should just go back to Sandy and Stewy and try to save the deal.”

“No, no. You can’t. Dad said no deal,” Roman reminded her. 

“Dad didn’t say shit, Rome!”

“He said no deal! Are you fucking deaf?”

“No, he didn’t! His urethra had wrestled control over his brain! I could at least talk to them, right? If we go to the vote, we’d probably… we’d lose. Karl? Frank? Tom?”

They all babbled incoherently—mostly in agreement. 

“Y/N?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah. I think you should try.”

“Rome? You back this?”

Roman pinched the space between his brows. Sucking in a deep breath, he said, “Go on, yeah. Go fuck it up, you moron.”

With that, Shiv rushed away, pulling out her phone to give them a call.

Before the shareholder meeting ended, the President called and the group had Roman answer, since Logan was currently… unavailable. He was extremely upset with Logan and said that he wouldn’t be running for another term, which was a major blowback for the company, since he was the stilt to Waystar’s political survival.

It was safe to say that things were going to shit.

Then Shiv called to say that she’d finessed four seats out of the board, which was a good fucking deal, so—maybe things weren’t all that shit.

Roman wasn’t happy with going against Logan’s wishes, but he frustratedly nodded. “We’re good. We’re all good. Hold the voting.”

Everyone cheered and sighed in relief. 

When Logan came to, Gerri filled him in with all the details. He didn’t like what Shiv did, not at all, despite her defensive arguments that she’d saved the company. He yelled at her then, and everyone was quiet for a moment.

But Logan smiled at you, and patted Roman’s shoulder minutes later. He was fine, right? Things were fine.

Things were going to be okay.

[vagabond-umlaut]

pumpkin spiced metal

You like your men like you like your coffee. Dark. Robust. Steamy. Not the best for your health. The very worst for your heart, for sure.

▸ wrestler!Toji x baker!Reader; Historical AU; Pre-Relationship; Tons of Fluff; Teasing Banter; It's Toji so obviously there'll be mentions of attacks, fights, injuries [Reader is 100% unharmed, dw!! :))]; Reader's fearless nature is something I can do anything to have; Toji & Reader Are Into Each Other And Both of Them Low-Key Know This [they are not idiots but smart, for once, your honor]; Reader Has She/Her Pronouns; There is one tiny [or four tiny] mention(s) of Gojo here HEHE

▸ This belongs to the same Historical JJK AU as the knight Nanami x lady-in-waiting Reader fic parterre but you don't need to read that to read this!! This is a stand-alone!! 😊😊

▸ based on the ask sent by @ancient-vivarium for my milestone event. TYYY SMMM FRELLIE!! 🥰🥰🤗😘 i don't own the characters, image or divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"Coffee wakes one up better than fights, y'know?"

A dagger grazing the shell of your ear before flying into the wall is the very last thing you could have expected your off-handed comment to ever receive; yet, now, on seeing the receiver of your query, you deem you're lucky enough your beloved ear wasn't cut off your beloved face by that wretched dagger.

Fingers gripping your mug more firmly, you heave a heavy sigh— only to click your tongue in the very next instant. Flipping the sign on your bakery's door back to 'closed', you sit down on the steps and make an awkward gesture for this sudden visitor to take the seat beside yours.

A moment passes. And just when you think this person will simply be standing with half of his hulky persona in light and the remaining in a darkness, he shuffles forwards to plop down onto the seat proffered.

You shove the glee curving your lips behind the ceramic of your mug.

Toji throws you a horribly incensed glare from where he's slouched on the stair. "Ya find this shit funny, eh? I can still kill ya if I wanna. These injuries don't mean anything— 'm tellin' ya."

"Mmhm," you nod your agreement quickly, biting your cheek once to keep them blasted giggles within yourself. "I know you can– wrestler and rumored assassin Toji. I'm very well aware you can; but don't you think it's a bit funny— someone as strong and scary as you sharing a cup of coffee with someone akin me? If you aren't you, won't you find this slightly funny, hm? I bet you will, you know."

Your confident remark earns a furrowed glance from your companion before he sighs, dragging a palm down his so weary face then curling it into a fist to rest his cheek on. You shoot him a quizzical look— only for it to bounce right off him, as he closes his eyes, and gives another exhausted sigh.

The sight twists your heart in a way, pretty weird but not unpleasant, you decide.

A hazy yet sharp eye blinking open to watch you, Toji grumbles, "Was attacked by several men some time back on my way to the grounds... of course, I beat them up to a pulp so much, not even their family can tell them apart now; but everything happened so out of the blue—"

"You don't need to explain anything anymore. I understand where the sudden knife attack came from," you cut him off gently, keeping your cup on the ground beside and moving to rub a soothing thumb on an awfully deep scar on the underside of his palm. The muscles beneath your ministrations tense a little, before relaxing a smidgen— you hear a quiet huff of a laugh from the man next to you.

You drag your eyes away from the scars on his hands to that on his lip before lifting them to meet his deep, dark gaze. A smirking glint stays there to greet your inquiring gaze.

Toji asks, "Aren't ya scared of being alone with someone rumoured to have killed half of the Zenin clan, eh, girl? People say the man in front of you once attempted to finish off that blue-eyed brat too once... Did ya not know that?"

You do. The thing is, you do.

You do know each and every one of those rumors. Silly or not. Weird or not. Being the most popular baker in the royal kingdom has made you the unwilling listener to these rumours and so many, many more.

[Just the other day, you heard one lady screech to the other, how she spotted the princess winking— yes, winking— at Lord Gojo. The next day, you saw Her Highness in your bakery, kicking the same Lord and calling him names– no sane lady would ever dream of calling the man they fancy.]

[The princess is not very sane, you know this too. But you choose not to dwell on it too much.] [You value your neck very much, thank you!!]

You shrug after two seconds worth consideration.

"Those Zenin's deserve to be killed, if I'm being very honest here. And as for the matter pertaining to Lord Gojo..." you trail off, before giving your second shrug of the minute and resuming, "I noticed you and he conversing in the marketplace the other day, so I suppose– whatever happened, if anything at all, is all in the past. Also, it's for the best if I don't interfere in others' business, y'know? I've a not-very-tiny one of my own to manage, which is no easy feat, if I must admit— but, yeah. No matter what your reputation is, I don't really mind you here. You've the signs of being a nice company."

An oddly piercing gaze is the only respone your lengthy reply receives— or so you think before Toji cracks a barely-there smile at you, rising from his seat and extending a hand towards you.

It's not the etiquette, some part of your mind tsks. You shut it down in less than an instant. Etiquettes are shit stuff meant for those of noble blood. You and Toji aren't so— at least, not this very second in the soft light of the day, breaking through the cloak of the yesternight— those etiquettes can be easily forgotten by you two. For now.

Forever as well. Perhaps.

You too rise, placing your palm in his outstretched one. And shoot a wide smile when he squeezes your hand and queries, "Ya sure won't mind making an extra cup of coffee for every morning from now on, yeah?"

Enjoying the pitter-patter in the middle of your chest, you shake your head, chuckling. "Heavens, no. If anything, I'll be the happiest to drag another person into my coffee-worshipping cult."

Especially if that someone is as alluring as the one before you— with a crooked grin, a tad bloody and very much feral– but you decide not to mention it– choosing to keep it close to your heart till the time Toji too grows nearer to your heart.

[Which, you reckon, will happen soon, if the pinkish hue of his ears and the moisture on his palm are what you hope suppose they are.]

▸ masterlist

[vulcajes]

🔔 - evanlily, coffee shop au 🙏

Here you go ml <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“One large flat white, please.” A quiet, sombre voice ordered.

Evan perked up, recognising the voice but not the order. He snapped out of his reveries and looked at the customer, his eyes quizzical. It was the same girl he saw every time he took a weekday morning shift. In fact, he started purposely taking those shifts just to see her. Usually, she was joyful, smiling, and her voice melodic — almost singsong. Seeing this mysterious girl in such despair seemed to make her even more intriguing.

Wordlessly, he made the ordered drink, eyes glancing occasionally between the flat white and the girl who ordered it. There was a despondent look in her eyes, her lips quirked into a slight frown. It looked as if she hadn't smiled in some time, and Evan made it his mission to figure out why this usually cheery redhead was so miserable. He gave her the coffee and watched her like a hawk; seeing if she was going to stay in the café or leave. Usually, from Evan's recollection, she would stay in the café for a while, but he wondered if her new disposition would cause her to leave early. Perhaps she wanted to keep her human interaction to a minimal.

During this silent consideration, the curious customer sat in the corner by herself, staring down at the Christmas-decorated cup Evan had given her. It was around halfway through his shift anyway (the girl had arrived much later than usual), so he decided to take his break. Shirking the work apron he had to wear, Evan slowly stalked towards the miserable young woman. His movements were awkward, like he'd never walked towards another person in his life. Eyes wide, staring at her as if he was trying to decipher her soul. He hadn't been spotted until he sat down opposite her, his gaunt complexion haunting the girl in front of him.

The sound of a throat clearing made Lily perk her head up, her brows creasing. It took her a second, but she recognised the boy in front of her, the worker at the coffee shop she was in just now. He had even given her her coffee this morning. What was he doing here? Was there something wrong? Her frown deepened as she watched the employee, tilting her head slightly.

“Is there something wrong?” Lily asked tentatively, watching the dark eyes staring at her. The man cleared his throat, looking down and then back at her, his eyes almost disappearing behind his eye bags.

“No. Not with me. Is there something wrong with you?” Evan asked bluntly, leaning in slightly as he hunched over the table. His breath hit Lily's face from their proximity. It smelled minty — uncomfortably so. As if he'd spent his entire life brushing his teeth without eating a single thing.

Lily shuddered, pulling away slightly. The forwardness of this stranger being too much for her to start spilling her guts. She crossed her arms, looking between the cup and the man. “I'm sorry. Who are you?”

A stiffness overcame Evan's body. He suddenly realised that perhaps not all of the people he had started watching were watching him, too. Perhaps there wasn't this bond shared between them that he initially thought. Perhaps it was a bit strange for him to sit down in front of her and expect answers for all his queries. Either way, he had to introduce himself now. “I'm Evan. Evan Rosier. And you…?”

“Lily Evans,” she answered with a slightly raised eyebrows, “Nice to meet you, Evan Rosier.”

Evan nodded, letting out a soft chuckle. He didn't really feel like laughing, he just assumed that's what people did when funny coincidences like this popped up. Besides, the eyebrow raise from the girl — or Lily, as he had just found out — was the closest to positive expression she had given since entering the establishment. Maybe she had found humour in his first and her last name being so similar. He would have to probe further to find out.

“Nice to meet you too, Lily Evans. Now will you tell me what's wrong?” He uttered softly, trying to coax Lily into speaking. It truly wasn't his place to ask, but he didn't care. Something inside him deeply needed to know why she hadn't ordered her usual vanilla latte.

Lily sighed and her eyes fluttered shut, unfurling her arms to awkwardly fiddle with her coffee cup. She shook her head and her eyes opened slowly, looking at Evan wearily.

“It's just… I've had a really awful week. I got passed up for a promotion, Christmas is at my sister and her husband's this year, and there's this New Years thing I'm going to with colleagues. This is the third year in a row I haven't brought a date and you would not believe how often that is brought up at work. I can't take another night of passive aggressiveness from everyone there with their partners. They always go on and on about how sad it is that I have nobody to kiss at midnight.” She explained, her frown deepening as her explanation turned into a rant. Just remembering how annoying her coworkers were.

Evan also began to frown, less from sympathy and more from his mind whirring with possible solutions. He didn't quite understand why he was so invested in Lily's troubles, but he knew he felt strongly enough to want to help her. After a few seconds, it seemed obvious what the solution was. He swallowed and spoke.

“I could go with you to your New Years party”

“What?”

“I could go with you. That way people won't make fun of you for not having a date.”

“Really? But… we don't know each other. Won't that be an issue?”

“We can just bullshit it.”

Lily looked pensive, mulling over Evan's words and the potential consequence. The frown lightened, but her brow deepened further. She stayed silent, staring down at the lid of her flat white.

“Listen, I'm just making an offer. You don't have to take it, but if you want to, it's there.” He continued, resting his hands on the varnished wood of the table.

There was silence for a few seconds, then a nod, then a response. “Okay, if you're up for it. Thanks, Evan. I'll give you my number and text you the details later, alright?”

Evan nodded before looking at his watch. His break was just about up. He lifted himself slowly from the seat and gave an awkward goodbye to her, shuffling back towards the door to the break room.

“Hey, wait! How did you know I was upset?” Lily asked, stopping Evan in his tracks. He turned around to face her, seeing the curiosity that brought light to the eyes that were so melancholic before.

“Oh, it was obvious,” he stated bluntly, “you didn't order a vanilla latte.”

[omgkatsudonplease]

the whispers of lady polixenes: london, 24-25 december 1995

“Pendragon Castle?” queried Harry, glancing over at an equally quizzical Hermione. “What’s that?” Ron was tempted to explain, but Malfoy was already on the Quaffle. “Excellent idea. Only one caveat: we play the Dodderidge Variation.” A groan from Fred, George, and Ginny. “Only if the Clagg subclause is revoked,” insisted Ginny. “No going around in circles.” “Fair enough. No circuitous plays,” declared Malfoy. “I’ll start: The Whispering Marsh.” “Bold opening manoeuvre,” said Fred. “But we see your bald-faced attempt at the Mopsus Gambit, and we won’t stand for it. The Labyrinthine Caves.” “Oh, putting pressure on the lateral,” remarked Sirius, through a bite of his bun. “Everdark Vale it is, then.” “The Misty Isles,” said Ginny quickly. “The Opal Mines!” shouted Regulus, and then cleared his throat. “Sorry. Got excited there.” “Why?” asked George, narrowing his eyes. “Seems like you’re a bit too familiar with this play, Reg.” “We’d better dodge that,” added Ron. “The Silver Isle.” The other half of the table groaned. “See, this is what happens when you blunder the Opal Mines six moves in,” rebuked Lord Malfoy, much to Ron’s surprise. “The Blood Moors it is.” Ron Weasley meditates on possessions and friendships. The second Weasley-Malfoy Games Showdown is held.

read HERE on ao3!

The illustration in this chapter was done by the wonderful @meemoop, who draws the most beautiful Narcissa Malfoys I have ever seen! Please go give them some love!

[silverymusings]

🐴 in a horse mask! (dani got her and ton a matching pair)

Drawing Meme - Still Accepting~

[daydreamgoddess14]

Poker Face

MASTERLIST

Ted Lasso / Rebecca Welton, fluff, romance, smut. Ignores events after 3.11.

From a prompt: Everybody knows that Rebecca is in a terrible mood today, and Ted is having the hardest time keeping a straight face because he knows why. (Or vice versa).

~~~~~~~~

“Abort, abort!” Roy muttered under his breath as he passed Beard on the stairs to Rebecca’s office.

“Why?”

“Just fucking abort, whatever it is you think you need to go up there for - you do not need to go up there. Fucking trust me.”

“I’m sure you’re overreacting, buddy.” The coach said with a firm nod and continued up the stairs.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He said, but Beard was already halfway up. He made his way back to his office and slumped into his desk chair. “Do I look like I fucking overreact to shit?” He asked loudly. Quizzical and fearful looks passed back and forth between Ted and Trent.

“Umm…”

“I’m gonna say…” they both shrugged.

“No?”

“Yeah, I mean I was going to say no, of course. Of course you don’t overreact Royo, why would you think that?” Ted asked, relieved that he and Trent had apparently selected the correct answer.

“Beard said I was overreacting.”

“To a situation in particular?” Trent queried.

"Blondie has just gone absolutely tits at me cos I haven't booked a table yet for Keeley's birthday. Proper went off at me. I fucking told Beard not to bother if he wanted to keep his head. He told me not to overreact. Fucking as if." Roy trailed off, mumbling under his breath. In the other office, Trent went straight back to his writing while Ted toyed with his phone, a tiny smile just visible under his mustache. Not even 10 minutes later, Beard sat heavily in the chair across from Ted. 

"Well?" He asked gruffly. 

"You were right."

"Pardon?"

"You were right. She was very… angry." At the sound of his voice, Ted looked up. 

"Sup Willis?"

"Ms Welton is a little out of sorts today." The coach replied stiffly. Roy snorted.

"Out of sorts? She was full on Roy Kent up there." Ted hummed and rolled his chair back to put his feet up. 

By mid morning, the club was on eggshells. The admin girl had refused to take the post upstairs, Leslie had broken two teacups through shaking so much. They'd roped in the big guns for lunch. 

"Come on then you bunch of pussies, what are you so scared of?" Keeley fucking Jones arrived with a paper bag full of wraps for the coaches and a couple of salads for her and Rebecca. 

"She's fucking scary today Keels!" Roy muttered. "She even scared Beard." The usually unruffled coach nodded from the corner. Clearly, not a scrap of work was being done. 

"Will nearly had her laptop launched at his head when she couldn't print something earlier." Higgins said from the gym window. Keeley looked around, incredulous. 

"You lot are-" she paused at Ted, "proper wimpy. Here, take your lunches, I'll take the wicked witch her salad." The bag was emptied by the vultures and Keeley made for the door. Just as she passed the water cooler, Ted caught up with her. 

"Hey, Keels, I'll take the salad. The boss might be more hungry." Keeley narrowed her eyes at him.

"What do you know, Lasso?"

"Don't know whatcha mean jelly bean. Just trying to help."

"Why aren't you scared like the others?"

"Sure I am, I'm shakin' in my boots."

"Nuh uh, you're the only one who sat there with a cheeky little smile. So what do you know?"

"There might have been an issue with the biscuits this morning. As in, there ain't any."

"Oh Ted, what have you done?! You do not introduce something into a daily routine unless you can keep up with it! Well no wonder she's fucking hungry. I'd better get up there!" She turned on her heels and left Ted at the foot of the stairs. It wasn't the full story behind Rebecca’s bad mood, but it was all he was willing and able to confirm. 

"Knockadoodledooo!" Keeley sang as she tapped the door, peering round into the room. 

"Come on, it's safe, I promise."

"You've scared them all down there, babe. Well, except Ted." 

"Ted hasn't been up here."

"No, he's just watching everyone else be terrified with this little smirk on his face. Oh, he switched your salad. He told me about the biscuits and said you'd be hungry."

"Damn him." Rebecca all but snatched the wrap from Keeley and tucked in.

"So, what's wrong? And surely it's not just biscuits?"

"It's nothing, really." Rebecca spoke through a mouthful of her lunch. 

"Rebecca, don't bullshit me. Out with it." She checked the door was closed - it was, it had been all morning. 

"Something happened last night. I may have, well, we actually - it's more of a two person situation - that is to say, Ted and I-"

"You shagged him didn't you?"

"How on earth do you do that?!"

"He's the only one sitting down there with a sneaky little shit eating smirk while everyone else still looks traumatised from bringing your post or saying hello to you. It's more obvious than… Bumbercatch's nationality-"

"You do realise no one else knew he was Swiss?" Keeley shushed her with a hand flap.

"You two have been playing this super weird game for weeks! Months even. Ever since you saw boring John Wingsnight in the cafe and you told me what his fiance said. Ted has been out of sorts since his mom went home. The only thing I can't work out is why you're angry?"

"I'm… not able to tell you that."

"Ooh is it dirty? Tell me, tell me!"

"I can't."

"Rebecca Victoria Welton, if you don't give me a full match of the day style run down of what happened then I will go down and get the mustachioed man himself and make him tell me."

"He wouldn't."

"Maybe not, but I'd make him cry while I try and break him." Rebecca stared at her tiny, violent best friend. 

"OK. Fine, I'll tell you." Keeley clapped her hands in glee. "I asked him to come over after he told me in his office that he was leaving. I wanted to check on him, he'd been so down and so un-Ted - especially after his mom left, like you said. So we had some dinner, opened some wine and got a bit drunk. He wants to be with Henry. His mom put some stupid guilt trip on him, so he thinks going back is the only solution. Anyway, I… got a little upset after we talked about it."

~~~~~~~

"Hey now, you don't have to cry, boss. You got plenty of time to find a new coach, and the boys will be just fine and-"

"Ted! I don't give a shit about finding a new coach!" She pressed her hands against her eyes, desperately trying to stem the flow of tears. Tears that had arrived involuntarily and unexpectedly. She thought she was pretty well under control up until that point. She'd remained calm when he told her, and when he'd told the team. "I was doing so well! I was trying so hard not to cry, I didn't want you to feel any guilt about going and now-" sobs overtook "I thought I could be the one person you could rely on who wouldn't plead with you to stay and now I've fucked it all up." Her shoulders shook with the force of her tears. Ted hovered next to her, unwilling to make things worse. At her last comment, though, he had to intervene. 

"No, don't do that, boss. You ain't done anything wrong - this is all on me, if I could stay-, if you only knew how I really feel." He wrapped her up in his arms, enveloping her. He could still feel her snuffling into the collar of his sweatshirt. She stopped suddenly, her breath hiccuping a little. 

"What do you mean?" She didn't move.

"Nothing, I just mean how much I care for you all, that's all." 

"Oh."

"Why, do you-, I mean, is there another reason you're so upset?"

"Me?" She froze, matchbooks, tiny green army figures, and an image of Ted playing darts I believe some folks call it white knighting flooded her mind. "Don't be silly, Ted. I'm far more worried about you!"

"Oklahoma?" She stepped away from him and towards the comfort of her wine glass. 

"I don't think that's a good idea." She replied honestly. 

"I know you don't, that's why I Oklahoma’d you. Out with it, Welton."

"I am still your boss, Ted."

"I know. Why else would I have stayed quiet for so long?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She put her glass down a little too forcefully, the contents splashing up and over the rim of the glass. 

"I think you know, and if you do, then I don't see why you can't say what you need to say." Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Why can't you say it?" He demanded. 

"Say fucking what Ted? That I don't want you to go? Fine, I don't want you to go."

"Why not?" She glared at him, having another drink from her glass. "Why not?" He asked again, more softly.

"Because…" She shook her head, the tears returning. He reached out to take both of her hands in his, his eyes the darkest hazel she'd ever seen them. Eventually, she sighed, resigned. "Because I love you, Ted." She snatched her hands away to wipe her tears again. "That’s enough now. You should probably go." She turned away from him, embarrassed, blotting her cheeks with a tissue from a box on the counter. She waited for the sound of the door but it didn't come. Instead she sensed Ted behind her, felt his breath on the back of her neck. 

"I love you too." She heard him say quietly. "I'll leave you in peace, boss." It wasn't until she heard the front door shut that she registered his departure. She made it upstairs, took off what was left of her makeup, brushed out her hair and changed into soft leggings and a large sweater. She went back down to finish the contents of her glass, pulled on a pair of trainers and ran out of the house. 

Ted had made his way across the Green. He'd waved to Mae through the pub window, but shook his head when she held up a pint glass. He poured a glass of whiskey and downed it, then poured another. He'd kicked off his sneakers by the door and pulled off his Richmond sweatshirt by the time his intercom buzzed. He figured it was Beard - he'd seen him in the pub through the window, so he let him straight in. He hadn’t expected to see Rebecca walk through his front door. He didn't say a word, just handed over his glass and went to get another. 

"How long have you known?" She asked. 

"How long have I known about you or about me?"

"Both?"

"I thought I'd worked you out a while ago, when I was in my head about whether Michelle was getting engaged, but I didn't know for sure until my mom visited. For me, it's been since you refused to accept my resignation last season."

"Ted, that's a year?" He shrugged. 

"I mean, It's probably been longer, I just didn't fully realise it until then. Or maybe when you told me about Sam. Why? When did you know?"

"This morning in your office.” 

"Oh. Oh you got some catching up to do then. No wonder you look so terrified."

“Thanks.” She muttered, dripping with sarcasm. “It hit me like… lightning."

“I’ve had longer to process it all, that’s all. It’s just always there for me, in the background of everything. It’s not even like it’s a big secret, I’m pretty sure Beard knows. And Higgy.”

“Oh, that’s just bloody wonderful then. You’re so ok with it all that you’re over it! You can just leave and carry on with your life like it’s nothing!” She sneered.

“Don’t say that, you know that ain’t true.”

“Do I?” He sat back down on the sofa, leaving space for her. She remained between the kitchen and sitting room for a moment before taking the seat next to him. “I can’t believe everyone knows but me. Am I really that oblivious?”

“Not everyone. And of course you’re not oblivious. You’re the most perceptive woman I’ve ever known, Rebecca. You've just been in your own head lately."

"So what now? You go back to Kansas and we forget all of…" She waved her hands around, "This? Chalk it up to bad timing?"

"Depends I guess."

"On?"

"Do you really not want me to go?" She took a big drink and put the glass down.

"Do you know what I've spent all day doing?" He mirrored her, finishing his drink, then motioned for her to continue. 

"I do not, but I sure hope you're gonna tell me."

"Schools. I've spent all day looking at every school in town, what they offer, how they can support pupils from overseas, if they have sports clubs. And then I cross referenced that list with another list of schools nearby with teaching vacancies. And then I added in a commute radius so I could make sure that both you and Michelle could get to the Henry's school in nearly equal time from your potential workplaces. I also called the schools with job vacancies to find out exactly what they were looking for." Ted stared,

"How the heck?"

"Michelle keeps her LinkedIn profile very up to date. It's almost like she's looking for another job. Anyway, of the 5 with vacancies, 3 would be suitable and would like to know more about Michelle and cross referencing those 3 gave me 4 potential schools for Henry." He took back the glass he'd given her and finished what was left. "That's my drink."

"Sharing's caring." He mumbled, still staring. "You did all that?"

"It's not that big a deal. I already had lists of schools suitable for both of them anyway. I just had to see who had vacancies." She shrugged. 

"You already had the lists since when?"

"I put it together when you asked me to hire an investigator to see if Michelle was getting engaged. It seemed more worthy of my time."

"I'm a little a lot drunk right now, but that's a pretty big romcom gesture, baby."

"Pish, it's exactly what people do for their friends."

"Would you do it for Higgy?"

"Nooo, he already knows the area so well."

"Roy?"

"He's too picky."

"Keeley?"

"Highly organised, already has a list."

"So just me then?"

"Ted, you're the only friend I have who might have a requirement for this list!"

"I'm also the only friend you're in love with." He nudged her with his shoulder, pushing a little too hard in his drunkenness so that she nearly tipped right over onto the sofa.

"Yep, thanks for reminding me." She righted herself. 

"So you really did that, huh?"

"The things you do when you're in love, baby." She nudged him back. 

"So you really, really don't want me to go."

"Is that not obvious enough for you yet, Ted? Should we stage an intervention? I don't want you to go. I want you to stay, and I'd do anything I can to make that happen." They sat in silence, Rebecca's words flowing over him like the whiskey and wine they were so drunk on.

"Fuck, Rebecca. That might be the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me." He said at last, leaning into her and catching her cheek so he could turn her to face him. "If I kiss you, you gonna try and hit me?"

"Try? If you kiss me, you'd damn well better be staying. Otherwise, don't fucking bother."

"You'd walk out of here right now? Or would you rather see how the kiss goes?" They both knew she had no intention of leaving. He reached a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her towards him, and claimed her lips in a kiss. She immediately tilted her head to give him better access, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss. Her hands went to his scruffy hair, her long nails against his scalp, making him groan into her. He pressed against her, twisting her body so that he could lay her back on the sofa and move fully on top of her. She moved her knees apart to make room for him, feeling the hard seam of his khakis in contrast to the soft, thin material of her leggings. As he kissed a sloppy path down her neck, she could feel him harden against her thigh. She bucked her hips against him.

"Jesus, Ted -" He pulled at the hem of her sweater, so she moved up onto her elbows to help him remove it, pressing her chest against him. He ran a fingertip along the top of the cup of her bra, pulling it down and taking a nipple into his mouth. He fumbled with the waistband of her leggings, his hands moving faster than his brain. It took far more maneuvering than it would if they'd been sober, but eventually, they'd made it the short distance to the bedroom with considerably fewer clothes. They stumbled against the bed, tripped over clothes, and bumped heads multiple times. He was rock hard against her, but Ted didn't give himself a passing thought as he kissed every inch of Rebecca’s body. She arched into every touch, his name a constant chant. When he finally pressed his tongue hard against her clit, he had to pin her hips down to keep her on the bed. He barely let up for a second as she came down from her first release, already willing her into another. When he crawled back up her body, she dragged her fingers through his hair again, desperately rolling her hips against his. 

"I know baby, I got you. Do you have any-"

"No need, Ted. Unless you want to. I'm all clear." He dropped a kiss to her lips and pushed into her, inch by inch. 

"Fuck, Becca-" she lifted her legs to wrap around him, the angle causing a friction which had her on the edge again almost straight away. He came seconds behind her, her name pulled from his chest. He collapsed on top of her and she relaxed her legs. "I'll move, don't wanna hurt you." She lay a palm between his shoulder blades to keep him in place.

"I'm fine, stay a minute." He kissed her neck, his hands absentmindedly stroking up the sides of her breast. They lay in silence until their breathing returned to normal and Ted moved. He returned with a damp washcloth and she watched in awe and amusement while he helped her clean up. "Thank you, love." She whispered, a hand cupping his cheek. She was hesitant when she left the bathroom, unsure whether to stay until he handed her a soft, worn t-shirt to sleep in. With the lights off, she curled against him, pushing a leg over and squeezing her knee between his. "Do you think we've fucked it all up?" He kissed her head, 

"I sure hope not, cos I really wanna do that again." Rebecca laughed.

Amazingly, she woke up in the same position. She could feel him hard against her and rolled further on top of him. She kissed his jaw and neck, pulling him from any last traces of sleep. His hands reached around to grab her bum so she sat up onto her knees. She ground herself against him, gasping when she finally had him inside her. They rocked lazily together, a deliciously tense orgasm building slowly. 

"Mornin' Ted. You still in the shower? I got the coffees already. You got any food?" Beard's voice rumbled through the half open door. They could hear him opening kitchen cupboards. Rebecca quickly moved off Ted and into the bathroom, where she pointed frantically at items of clothing from the doorway. Ted grabbed what he could and followed her inside,

"Uhh yeah, just finishing up. Be out in a sec." He called out, closing himself and Rebecca in the bathroom. 

"What the fuck is he doing here?"

"It's 8.30am, Bec. If he's here, I'm gonna be late for work." 

"I'm your fucking boss!"

"Ok, well shall I tell him you're here?" She glared in response. He showered quickly, while she dressed. "I'll see you at work?" He whispered, kissing her once more, and then left her in his bathroom. In the living room, Beard had clocked the two whiskey glasses and the discarded ladies trainers. He didn't question Ted, and moments later, Rebecca heard them shut the door of the flat.

"Fuck." She whispered. "I need to get back to mine."

~~~~~~~

“So let me get this straight, you’re mad as hell because one, Beard interrupted your morning session and two, Ted didn’t have time to make biscuits because you got him drunk and you guys had lots of sex?” Rebecca blushed and nodded.

“He just stopped, Keeley!”

“I’m sorry, Rebecca, but you’re a grown, single woman! You could have,” she held up and wiggled her index and middle finger, “y’know, bit of DIY.”

“I didn’t want DIY, I’ve had enough of that. I wanted Ted.” Keeley couldn’t hold herself together any longer, and giggles erupted.

“Oh my god. And there’s everyone down there thinking something terrible has happened! Thinking how upset you are over Ted leaving, but all along, it was this!” She laughed hysterically. 

“It’s not like we had a chance to talk this morning, we were really fucking drunk last night Keeley. What if he still wants to leave? I’m mad about the whole combination of things, I’m hungover, the interrupted sex, the biscuits, the drunkenness… I just-, I don’t want him to go. But I don’t know if I’ve given him enough reason to stay.”

“There’s only one person who can answer that, babe. Though you might want him to get you off first so you’re more amenable to whatever his answer is.” Keeley started laughing again.

“Shut up, you. Maybe we should have done what I said. He goes back and we attribute it to bad timing. Missed opportunities, sliding doors etcetera.” Keeley frowned.

“Are you fucking real, Rebecca? Are you seriously telling me that last night's drunken confessions and the super hot sex that continued into this morning both mean so little to you that you can just forget it all?”

“Of course I can’t, I’ll never forget any of it. But if he doesn’t want to stay then I can’t and won’t force him.”

“Well if he’s down there smiling away then he’s clearly made some sort of decision, wouldn’t you say?” Rebecca didn’t respond, she fiddled with the edge of her shirt. “Why don’t I send him up?” Rebecca nodded so briefly, Keeley nearly missed it. She darted out of the room before Rebecca could change her mind.

“Oi, Lasso. Your presence is required upstairs.” Keeley said brightly from the doorway. Ted’s phone clattered against the table.

“Me? Uhh… why?”

“Why not? She’s shouted at everyone else today. Your turn.” Beard sniggered into his book, turning it into a cough when Ted looked at him.

“Right, right, sure thing Billie Jean King.” He bumped against every surface in his haste to get upstairs and knocked gently at the door.

“Come in.”

“Hey boss, how was your lunch?”

“It was good. Thank you for swapping.”

“Ahh if your hangover is anything like mine, carbs are a must.” He took a seat on the sofa, slightly across from her. Remembering the last time he sat in this spot and she’d returned the ceremonial spray of tea in his face

“Said the man who had a salad.”

“It’s a peace offering. I’m sorry about this morning, believe me, that is not how I would have wanted our first morning together to go.” Rebecca looked up sharply.

“You’ve thought about… that?”

“I’ve thought about everything. I’ve pictured you in just about every single scenario my brain could come up with.” She looked wary. “Nothing compares to the real thing though. Waking up with you was something else.” He could see her demeanor start to soften. And if we hadn’t been interrupted, I'd have told you as much. I’d have shown you.”

“Have you thought about anything else we discussed last night?”

“You mean your 10 point plan to get Henry into Cambridge?”

“Oxford, actually.”

“My bad. Yes, I have.” He held his phone up, “I’m currently opening negotiations with Michelle about it. I’ve given her enough detail to think about for now, we’ve got a call planned for later on where I can give her all of the information and give her time to make an informed decision.”

“Does she think you’ve gone mad?”

“Far from it. She thinks it sounds great, and that’s without me telling her that you’ve already got her lined up for a promotion and pay rise.”

“I don’t recall mentioning either of those things.”

“Well I guess we’ll have to sweet talk her together. If you’re interested?” She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “Wow, you really broke that dam last night.” She hit out at his knee.

“Fuck off.” 

“Sure, yeah, I’ll go-” He went to stand but she took his hand and pulled him back down. “I’d really like a do-over on this morning.”

“Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

“Only if we don’t drink so much, I don’t remember nearly as much of your body as I want to.”

“You’ll be in for a surprise later then.” She said cheekily.

“You’re always surprising me, baby. Thank you for wanting me to stay.”

“Thank you for thinking about it.”

“Ohh I’m gonna do more than think. Whatever happens, we’ll make the next decisions together. I love you, Rebecca. Now, how about we go tell everyone that they ain’t getting rid of me that easily, and you can show them that you’ve turned your frown upside down?”

FIN

[twistedintern]

Of Catching Tails and Catching Up

Greetings and salutations, dear visitors! Allow me to regale you with a tale of two men: one a war veteran, the other a royal chamberlain; both hailing from the Sunset Savannah.

A few notes before we proceed...:

I have chosen to ignore the EN game translation's rendering of Sebek's grandfather's and Leona's brother's names

The characters' relationship can be understood as either platonic or romantic; I've left it up to the readers' discretion (in case you were curious, I have come to actively ship them)

“My word! Such a rich panoply of flavor; I don’t believe I’ve had anything quite like it. What did you say it was called again?” The other man’s lips curled into a small smile, his expression softening as he studied his companion over the rim of his spectacles. “It’s called rooibos, though this particular blend is a specialty of the capital.” The other shook his head in good humor, jostling evergreen locks slightly against rows of scales lining his lower jaw. “As expected of Afterglow’s finest—“ “Baul.” “Yes, Kifaji?” “Before you ask, no: the prince did not put me up to this.” Baul gave the bowl in hands a quizzical glance. “The tea, or…?” “While I won’t deny our meeting was political in nature, I hoped to catch up with you. Personally.” The nocturnal fae blinked, his sharp features creasing in mortification a beat before a deep yet gentle peal of laughter erupted forth. “To think you would deceive his majesty to further your own agenda—my, how the years have changed you, friend!” “N-now, now! That is certainly not true,” Kifaji nearly leaped out of seat at the accusation, his tail feathers ruffled in visible agitation. He planted his hands at either side of the table to steady himself, then righted his posture and cleared his throat, perhaps in hope of saving face. Baul nodded, arms crossed—an otherwise sagely gesture, were it not for the lingering grin that betrayed his mirth. “Yes, yes, my mistake.” The hornbill beastman gave an indignant hmph. Seconds ticked by; only when the silence that stretched between them grew uncomfortable did he speak. “…How are things with the family?” Baul tilted his head, his fingertips ghosting scales absentmindedly as he mulled over the query. “My daughter is still hopelessly enamored with that pathetic human dentist.” The other man returned to his seat, his countenance a touch exasperated. “Baul…” “Do not misunderstand: I am nothing if not overjoyed that she has found true happiness with another. Theirs is the perfect marriage. Although I could ask for something more in a son-in-law, he has given me the precious, irreplaceable gift of marvelous grandchildren.” There was a knowing twinkle in Kifaji’s eyes, but he was quick to mask its warmth with a look of measured stoicism. “The youngest is around the second prince’s age, correct?” Baul shot him a bewildered glance. “The second prince… he is in his twentieth year? My youngest grandson is his junior, though not by much. You’re as sharp as ever!” “Well,” the wizened bird man puffed his chest out in pride. “You expected less of the Kingscholar house’s head chamberlain?” “Hardly! While we’re on the topic, what of the royal family?” “Yes… first, please allow me to apologize for Prince Cheka’s unceremonious behavior earlier. As you know, children are wont to be rambunctious and brimming with curiosity in their tender years—” It was Baul’s turn to jump from his chair. “That small lad was the first prince’s son? How disgraceful, callous! I rebuked the boy as though he was common raff!” Kifaji blithely removed his glasses from his face and held them against the light, unbothered. “You were entirely in the right. Life lessons are better learned the hard way for some; Prince Cheka needs to understand how to respect others’ personal space.” “I grabbed him by the nape and chastened him, Kifaji…!” “After he had clambered up your cloak and began prodding your scales.” Baul gave a long-suffering sigh. “Promise me you’ll apologize on my behalf next you see the boy.” “We shall see,” the bird beastman snorted, pushing his glasses up along the bridge of his nose. “As for the rest of the family?” “…The king is, as you know, still bedridden; Prince Farena has proven himself a reliable and competent ruler in his father’s stead. I wish I could laud similar praise upon his brother; alas, Prince Leona had taken it upon himself to reject court tradition and complete his education elsewhere.”

Baul offered a wry smile. “‘Elsewhere’ being one Night Raven College, correct?” “Indeed! How did you know?” “It just so happens my youngest grandson is currently enrolled there. He’s an especially hard worker who shows much potential; he fancies himself a bodyguard to Prince Malleus. If memory serves, he once spoke of another prince who treats Briar Valley’s esteemed heir with particular belligerence—” Kifaji frowned, bringing fingers to massage either temple. “Good grief… that sounds like Prince Leona. He has a terrific competitive streak and a complex to match, to say nothing of his ego….” “Rest assured,” the nocturnal fae gave his companion’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “I do not believe Prince Leona has incurred the young master’s wrath.” The chamberlain murmured to no one in particular. “That explains who the “lizard” he spoke so disparagingly of during his visit was….” Baul roared in revulsion, brows knit and fangs bared. “L-LIZARD?” “I-I-I m-mean—!” “The nerve, what obstinance! That anyone—especially royal youth of another nation—knowingly disrespect the young master in such a crass manner!” Kifaji swallowed hard. His voice was shaking as he hastened to collect the other man’s hands in his own. “Settle down, friend!” A pair of white-knuckled fists slammed into the table in response: their owner was visibly seething. “Does that young man have a death wish?” “He knows n-not the implications of his behavior! I swear on my honor and my life that Prince Leona will be thoroughly reprimanded for his conduct within the coming days!” Baul loosed one final guttural growl before going silent. His expression remained pinched in righteous fury for several terse moments; he was veritably straining to reign in his anger. “Had I known, I would have punished the second prince while he was still in the capital. Just lecturing him in the presence of his schoolmates would have driven the point home!” Baul paused to regard Kifaji as the latter frantically dabbed at his brow with a kerchief before he at last spoke. “…Schoolmates?” “Oh, yes!” Kifaji offered, nodding. “He was accompanied on his last visit by a very colorful group of adolescents.” “Was my young Sebek among them?” The birdman stroked his beard, shaking his head. “None of them bore any resemblance to you. There was a wolf beastman, the eldest son of a renowned merchant family, a celebrity of sorts… oh!” “Hm?” “There was one other lad in the prince’s retinue, he had pointed ears and a pale complexion—yes! I’m certain he was a fae like yourself.” Baul’s former ire was all but forgotten at this revelation. “How interesting… Night Raven College’s fae population is rather scant.” “He was quite the eccentric character; formidable despite his small build, with the most peculiar old-fashioned affect to his speech.” Baul was struck by a sense of deja-vu coupled with dread. “Kifaji… what was his name?” “Vanrouge? Yes, that was it! Lilia Vanrouge.” The nocturnal fae’s expression contorted in mortification, aghast with pure horror. Kifaji hadn’t even been able to fully process Baul’s reaction before the man’s body went slack and he fell over onto the floor. And this is how the royal chamberlain of Afterglow Savannah spent the entirety of an evening at an envoy’s bedside in the royal infirmary.

[sonicetomeetme]

It Was a Simple Question

It was a simple question, posed as much in play as anything else, that shook her from her trance of lust and brought her spiralling unwillingly back down to the ordinary plane of existence in which we all grind out the days we have left before death.

“What do you see in me?” was the question.

She cursed him aloud for ruining her escape from humanity and into nirvana and rolled off of him, searching for an answer, for things could not continue as they were without one.

The deep blue evening sky sat still, seeming to be as expectant of a response as he was, and indeed as she was.

Of course, all things being fair and equal, she knew the answer indubitably. He was gorgeous, and she was horny. But this would not suffice. He would not stand for being cheapened.

She looked back to see if he had given up the impossible query and was ready again to be her catalyst for escape. He, reclothed in jeans and naught else, gave her a look so as to reinforce his expectation of an answer.

“Listen,” she began, and then abandoned it. She thought briefly that there may yet be another vessel out along the beach, perhaps, like her, seeking an escape, and that they could help one another in this regard, no questions asked.

Meanwhile, the man with which she had originally absconded was sat on the edge of the bed, a quizzical smile playing about his face. He thought briefly that she was being too serious about it, and that perhaps he should retract his question, and resume his position.

The moon languished overhead.

She stood, angrily grabbed her clothing, and stormed toward the suite’s bathroom.

“What’s this about?” he called after her.

She stopped at the door.

“You weren’t supposed to question it. We were just supposed to fuck and be done with one another.”

“Well, I apologize for not having that in mind when you climbed on top of me.”

She glared. “You think this is funny.”

“I’ll admit I do.”

Her eyes softened. Either she was dealing with a social idiot, or, more likely, this kid had feelings for her. She pulled on her panties and reclasped her bra, which gave her time to contemplate this new revelation.

"What do you want me to tell you?" she asked, guardedly.

He leaned back on the bed. "Tell me about yourself. Tell me why you're here. Tell me how you came to be having sex with a strange man on an otherwise inconspicuous evening."

Despite the intimacy they had shared not three minutes prior, she found it difficult to meet his gaze as she shuffled back over to the bed.

"At least, tell me your name," he finally said.

[lottie-langford]

──despite the reassurance, her mind was stuck on the previous query. a perplexed, quizzical look formed on her delicate features as she met the younger blonde’s gaze —their eyes were much alike, she caught herself thinking, but the lingering feeling of what she could me by that query did not allow her much time to consider of anything else. her mind was going in overdrive, even as her tone was kept even when she asked “know where you live?” after a moment. did her daughter know who she is? no, she was being silly, she shouldn’t be letting her anxiety get the best of her. Lottie had not know her daughter’s address, it was something the PI she had not given to her ( or maybe she had overlooked it in the report ); she had know she was in Beachwood, but not the exact address. she smiled a little timidly at the following words; she felt so stupid, but this whole interaction had not been intentional.

“I…” a barely audible sigh fell from her lips. “I have seen you on TV, that’s all…” her tone was soft, genuine. “I should…go. thank you for the eggs,” another gentle smile graced her features. she had every intention to leave, couldn’t bring herself to tell her daughter who she is, when the framed photo of Alice with her family drew her attention and without thinking she walked over. her fingertips lightly touched the frame, traced Alice’s face on the photo. “is this you with your family?” she asked, her eyes glue to the photo —she knew of the answer already; she recognized the woman in the photo to be her mother.

⸻ “you are more beautiful in person than on TV…” Lottie said, and Alice concluded in her thought that she was in fact a fan of hers then. ❛ Ohh, grazi! ❜ She never knew how to accept the compliment but she didn't decline it either, her cheeks blushed a tad. ❛ So, how did you know where I live then? ❜ Once more she assumed she was just a fan, who was trying to find out where she lived or whatever is it. ⎯ After handing her the eggs, assuring the older blonde that this will NOT be an issue for her. ❛ Oh, I'm pretty sure it is not like they will be mad about it. We are going to make groceries, I mean… Me. Today, everything in our fridge is sort of empty anyway. ❜ She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

She clasped her own hands together. ❛ Ohh, nice to meet you Charlotte. ❜ Her name rang no bells in her mind. She has no idea who this woman is, not other than being her seemingly neighbor. Her biological mother, a secret kept from her father. There was a picture of Alice and her siblings with her foster parents, but she didn't even look not even a little her "mom". It was clear to see by eyes she was adopted.

❛ So, are you new in Woodside, a fan of mine I assume? And doesn't have eggs at home. Named Charlotte. I am Alice but I guess y'know that already. ❜ She spoke in a light tone to make the environment comfortable for both of them. ❛ Is there anything I might help you, Charlotte? ❜

[silverymusings]

"Could use some work, but I think I did pretty well!"

Ton Bingo - Still Accepting~

Aerith is definitely Cow Approved.

"Yeah, you're a flower nerd. Guess that makes six!"

She definitely wasn't Sage either...but she didn't need to know anything about that.