#Kendall Wind

[spilladabalia]

The Bobby Lees - Ma Likes To Drink

[rawrampmag]

. #SamanthaFish + #JesseDayton #DeathWishBlues #Blues #Guitar #SamanthaFish @Samantha_Fish+ @jessedayton

. #SamanthaFish + #JesseDayton #DeathWishBlues #Blues #Guitar #SamanthaFish @Samantha_Fish+ @jessedayton

Death Wish Blues, SAMANTHA FISH and JESSE DAYTON‘s debut joint album, is a collection of work resulting from a common desire to push the boundaries of blues music As one of the most influential figures on the 21st century blues scene, Fish has established herself as a multi-award-winning festival headlining artist who enthrals audiences with her ferocious yet graceful guitar playing, delivering…

[strawberrystepmom]

umemiya x f!reader. reader is wearing a bathing suit. established relationship, very suggestive, mentions of marriage. | divider thanks to cafekitsune like always, wc 1k even.

The haze of summer has settled thickly over all of Makochi, the air almost heavy enough to wrap around you and wear it. A subtle sheen of humidity settles over your shoulders and face; cicadas sing their song in the distance and wind chimes tinkle when a breeze mercifully blows by to cool your heated skin. The heat can’t prevent you from being outside, though. You lie on your belly beneath the blazing sun in your stringiest bikini, legs stretched out behind you while Hajime cares for his personal garden - the one meant just for the two of you - atop his apartment building. He hums a little tune, occasionally throwing in a whistle for good measure to make you giggle at him while your cheek rests against your folded arms, watching his every move.

It didn’t feel so hot about fifteen minutes ago but now that you’re watching sweat dampen the back of his white t-shirt and cling to his body, you sigh dramatically and he’s at your side in an instant, ever in tune with whatever you need.

“What’s wrong?”

You glance up at him and smile, unfolding your arms and stretching them above your head, flipping from your belly onto your back to give him a view of the front of you, gentle grooves in your skin when you shift from how tightly your bathing suit is secured around you. He doesn’t hide his ogling, raking steel blue eyes from your throat to your belly button and to your thighs, wiping his hairline with his forearm.

“Wanna use those broad shoulders to block the sun for me for a few minutes?”

Hajime smiles and nods wordlessly at your request, taking a few big steps to the left to block the sun from getting in your eyes, casting a tall and cool shadow over your upper body. He wipes his hands together to free them of any dirt or grime from the plants, twisting his body to point them in the opposite direction of where you lie across a large old sheet, your sandals pinning down opposite corners to keep the breeze from blowing it up. Removing one of his gloves, he pops it in his pocket and reaches down to press his palm against your skin, hissing through his teeth.

“Hot even for you.” He raises a brow, wrapping up his perpetual fussing over you in humor to prevent you from insisting that he does too much. “You really do need shade, huh? Poor thing.”

“My hero.” You nod, putting a smile on his face. 

Umemiya sinks down, kneeling beside you and changing his shadow so that it covers even more of you, your thighs now cooled by the shade provided by his size. He drags his palm from your waist upward toward the triangles of your top, slipping a finger beneath the tiny string stretched across your sternum.

“Do you want to go inside?”

Glancing up at him, you bite back a smile and shake your head, his finger still gently toying with your top. You reach out to toy with him now, gently tugging at the damp collar of his shirt, dragging your palm down his chest.

“No, I wanna be out here with you. You’re hot too, we can suffer together.”

Neither of you are suffering very badly if the way each of you is glancing at the other is any indication of what's really happening here, eyes half lidded, fingers itching to explore sweat slicked skin. Hajime wants to spring into action and plan a way to grow an entire canopy over the roof to ensure you are never uncomfortable but he’s a little distracted at the moment, your hand sliding further down his torso and beneath the hemline of his shirt to rest against his warm skin and hardened muscle.

“What are you up to?” He asks with a smile. He drops from his squat position to sitting next to you, legs spread while he leans down to kiss your lips gently, as sweet as the breeze that ruffles the ends of his hair. “Besides making sure I get nothing done today.”

Giggling, you kiss him back. One set of fingers thread through his hair, brushing it back from his face in the style he prefers and the other drags down his torso toward the waistband of his shorts, playfully tickling him along the way.

“You just make the best umbrella.” You crane your neck to kiss him again, hand settling around the back of his neck to keep him close to you. “Maybe that should be your new name, Hajime Umbrella.” He chuckles and moves closer to you, lowering himself until his arms cage either side of you, his body twisted to hover slightly above yours.

“Then you’d just be Mrs. Umbrella someday but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

You wiggle beneath him at the insinuation that you’ll be carrying his last name, something even warmer than today’s temperature pooling beneath your skin. Umemiya laughs and leans in to kiss you again, foregoing any sense of decorum to slowly slide his body over the top of yours. His thighs join his arms in caging you in, pinned to the sheet beneath your back, the sound of distant wind chimes carrying across the cloudless sky to mingle with your giggles.

“Come on Mrs. Umbrella,” he jokes again, sliding his hand up your side. “Let’s work out here a little longer and then we can go inside, alright?”

Your back arches in response to his touch. He takes advantage of the position, reaching into the small space between your back and the sheet to untie your top. He doesn’t immediately move it to expose you, allowing you to make that decision for yourself. 

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

You grin up at him until he envelops you in a sultry kiss, one that truly matches this summer heat, helping him remove his sweaty shirt an arm at a time and tossing it aside. 

[jhsharman]

"Storm Cloud"

Obvious difference with Archie working to meet Veronica's demand and Betty cheerfully drops on by. Move into the narrative stories, and they drop implied somethings.

Veronica won't stand that!

[lifesizejosuke]

wild that people hate sansa when robb is literally right there

[shivroy]

I personally see kendall's kids as not biologically being his, especially with roman's comments in the last ep. but also, could be interesting if Iverson were biologically his, especially because of how logan treats iverson being autistic(?) and too sensitive/ weak and how (to him) that would reflect badly on his "bloodline." cus he's that kinda guy. much to think about...

I KNOW that's why it's so hard for me to decide aggghhhh... i personally view kendall as autistic and like obviously iverson could be as well without being bio related to him but if ive was biologically related the way logan views the both of them is more interesting to me

[myplasticadversary]

Ok so the thing with Shiv and Kendall and Roman for me is it is essential that no matter what there must be represented the three genders of Butchy Femme Dom, Stone Service Top and Bratty Pillow Princess all in balance

[starikune]

Tag Dump Part 2.

[baodurs]

i agree that jesse "confirming" kendall's name was underlined in the will is silly but i love to be delusional about kendall so i had a lot of fun personally. also it's funny that it made some guy on the subreddit break out the roland barthes

[obeetlebeetle]

big ep for roman lovers (he said something real) and shiv lovers (tom under her thumb again) . kendall idc

[lesbiancosimaniehaus]

Juliana Canfield and Jeremy O. Harris were “besties” in grad school. The theater world is truly so small….

[spilladabalia]

The Bobby Lees - Bellevue

[leghorned]

HE FROM ON HIGH RAVING EVERYMAN

STRANGER-IN-BATHROOM STAIRMASTER

disco elysium-inspired portraits, thoughts below

kendall — the boy prince with a crown of thorns, imprisoned at the top. he overlooks the city, painfully distant from it all. a reflection in broken glass haunts him; his father, the waiter, himself. shattered and bloodied and dripping onto him still. so high and so blue, a puzzle barely together. his gaze tells you he knows how pathetic he is.

connor — the relatable uber-rich. the eldest son, forgotten, overtaken by the background. his political ambitions are yet another hobby to fill a void; his ranch, his wine, his presidency. he is pastel, faded, swathed in republican red that even then is all vanity. sees himself in screens. he is blowing away in the wind.

roman — doing the dirty work in the dirty room. he's ready to sling over offers and quick wit but there is a childishness about him, like he's scrawled in crayon. something's off, something's wrong with him and you can't figure out what exactly. he lives within it, then: slimy and blood-hot and close. his eyes dart around. the trained dog that might just bite when he's nervous.

shiv — all that effort to go nowhere. a girl with a pearl earring: wealthy, intriguing, unknowable. can't be bothered to face you fully, but baring her back in the process. bathed in the lines of light that her father gives her in inches. she is doomed to be pushed, and to be helped back up, which might be worse than the falling. exuding something sharp, startling, hot pink: forever pinky.

and if you got here... THANKS 4 reading & looking

[strawberrystepmom]

umemiya x meteorologist f!reader. flirtation, world building, a little game played between the two of them. reader is a few years older than ume. | divider by cafekitsune, wc 1.6k

pt 1 available here

Since your first meeting with Hajime Umemiya, you’ve taught him the differences between the types of clouds. He’s become intimately familiar with the record high recorded temperatures in his home country and yours alike, as well as when humans began recording that type of thing. There isn’t much more you can teach him that isn’t technical application and you told him weeks ago you’d spare him from the boring specifics. 

What he doesn’t know, though, is nearly enough about the woman who has spent the past eighteen mornings with him. Even on your days off, even on the days you used to skip over stopping at Cafe Pothos, you’ve been here bright and early and shining like the sun to spend some time with him. He wants to know everything he can, devising a plan on the fly to get you to divulge.

“Let’s play a game.” 

His announcement makes you laugh, teeth biting down on the tip of your tongue and eyes crinkling at the corners. Everything he says is an announcement, his vivacious personality and natural knack for taking the lead even extending to his speech patterns. It’s something you have grown to like about him very much, your palms pricking with sweat when he assumes the specific tone that is firm but kind. 

He makes your heart beat unusually fast if you’re honest with yourself although you are only interested in teaching a curious member of the public about your job. You didn’t sign up for romance or anything resembling it when you agreed to sit with him but today is your day off and you don’t have to report to the station at the usual barely dawn hour so you decide to bite, shrugging and wiping pastry crumbs off of the table in front of you. 

“Okay. What did you have in mind?”

A smile to match your own dances across his handsome face. You lean forward with your elbow on the table (rude, you know…) and cup your chin in your palm, absentmindedly tracing the edge of the saucer beneath your coffee mug with your other hand. The little details are what Hajime has discovered he likes the most about you, warmth climbing up his neck as he watches your subtle movements. You won’t catch him off guard, though, and he tilts his head to the side.

“Let’s play twenty questions.” Another laugh from you, shifting your posture so that your back rests against the booth that holds the two of you. The shop is open, the regulars coming and going and taking a sidelong glance at what all the giggling is about from the corner of the room, but it feels as though no one is there at all when you’re around him. The world disappears and it’s what makes you decide to humor him.

“Sure.” Nodding, all too familiar with the old  “get to know you” game, you hold your hand in his direction. “You go first since it was your idea.”

The man leans over the table himself, both of his elbows parked on the edge of it, hands on either side of his face. The most earnest set of eyes you’ve ever encountered blink at you, as honest as the rest of him is, his head remaining tilted like a curious puppy.

“How old are you?”

Despite yourself, you smile and shake your head at his question. He admires your lower lip and the way it curves, memorizing the shape easily and then looking away so he doesn’t give away too much. The curve disappears when you lift your cooled latte to your lips, sipping and raising a brow. 

“Well I wasn’t expecting that to be your first question. You first, Hajime. How old are you?”

He pushes himself forward, scrunching his nose and leaning over the table as though he’s telling you a big secret. 

“I’m 26.”  You hiss, clicking your tongue against the top of your mouth. Playing the motion off as a joke, you raise your eyebrows but your gut churns with the realization that there is a little bit of an age difference between the pair of you, worrying about his reaction. He’s very kind but you can easily see whatever easy peace and flirtation exists between you two wrapping up today if he decides an older woman isn’t for him.

“I’m a few years older than you.” He leans forward on the table, his own brows raised, interest piqued. “How much older?”

“About three years.”

You’re on the precipice of your next phase of adulthood and he is blissfully enjoying the middle of his current one, not too far from the worries of the late twenties but far enough away he can pretend they’re something to be toppled later. 

He chuckles, taking a look at your widened eyes and flat mouth, obviously amused that you are so concerned about the scant age gap.

“So? I like an older woman.”

Your face warms and you reach for your emptied coffee cup, staring dejectedly at the ceramic bottom. Is this his attempt at making you feel better or does he mean it? Eyes shifting from the cup to the man across from you, you let a half smile crawl across your face and fold your arms over your chest.

“Are you hitting on me, Umemiya?”

He leans back to mirror your stance, folding his own arms over his chest. You notice the way the sleeve of his t-shirt rides up over your bicep and feel the need to look away again. You fight the urge and stay glued to him, a single eyebrow raised. He copies you, making you giggle.

He is too good at that. It almost frustrates you how his natural ease makes you easier as a person. You’ve always prided yourself on being a tough egg to crack, hardened despite how gooey you are inside, yet he cracks you a little more with each smile, joke, or hand on the small of your back while he walks you to the door. 

“I dunno, is it working?”

You need to figure out a way to end this today for both of your sakes though your erratic heartbeat betrays how you really feel at his insistence that he is indeed expressing his interest in you. He finds your struggle to believe it borderline amusing, the emotions etched across your face far more easily read than you know. 

“Well, that’s very nice of you,” you finally reply, scrunching your nose and letting your face fall into a neutral expression. He shrugs, unfolding his arms and reaching for his own coffee cup that is still half full. “It’s not being nice, you’re just really fun to talk to and I enjoy our time together.”

Now the feelings you’ve been running from are inescapable and your chest feels warm. You have a bit of a thing for him, you’d be a liar to deny it. Knowing it’s returned? You weren’t prepared to topple that mountain today. You roll through excuses to leave in your head (my cat is sick, I have an appointment I forgot about) but none are able to be formed on your lips and you sit, pinned to where you sit by the weight of his steel blue gaze.

“And I wanted to ask, if it isn’t too much, if you’d want to do this over dinner instead of coffee sometime.”

No more excuses come to mind, just a blaring and flashing “yes”. That same old fight or flight kicks in, wondering if now is the time to break his heart and let him know that you’ve fooled him into thinking you’re decent company. You want to decline, to end things here and today, to leave him to someone else but you are at your heart as selfish as anyone else.

“I’d love that, actually.”

So you agree. The way his face lights up makes your palms sweat once again and you’re grateful they’re pressed against your light spring jacket so you can covertly wipe them. There is no cure for lovesickness other than to ride out the waves of overwhelming nausea that come with it and he smiles at you so softly a part of you believes he may be your lover already.

Finally settling yourself down, you raise a brow at him again and smile.

“Was that one of your twenty questions?”

He laughs at you from his heart, head tilting backward. Everything about him is so larger than life, his personality and his smile and his heart, and you wonder how this meeting even came to be. You aren’t so foolish as to believe fate plays a hand in everything but these mornings have felt nothing short of fated, two kindred spirits destined to meet and enjoy each other.

“I was going to ask you if you had a boyfriend for my next question but I guess I should have asked that before asking you out?”

Again, the pair of you devolve into giggles and Kotoha who mans the coffee station and the elderly woman she is serving both turn to look at the pair of you and then at each other. It has been like this for weeks and it shows no sign of stopping, the younger woman thinks to herself, glad she encouraged the man she has viewed as a brother her entire life to send the letters that he did to you. She’s known you since you moved to Makochi and feels as though her hand in all of this can’t be ignored, passing a cup across the counter to the woman smiling and shaking her head.

“Do you think they’ll have the wedding here?” The older woman jokes, making the younger one shrug and raise her hands innocently. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Misu-san.”

The woman casts her a glance and walks away, her cup in hand, leaving Kotoha’s view of the pair of you clear. You laugh and talk away, ignorant to the world around the two of you, and she smiles proudly, eager to hear about his bravery in asking you out as soon as you part ways.

[senselessviolets]

being roman roy’s personal assistant (and his obsession) would include…

Rating M

WARNINGS:

Language, sexual tension, degradation, power imbalance, Roman being Roman weird.

Author's Notes:

Pretty self-explanatory. No uses of Y/N. Some brief RomanGerri. Very much inspired by @nanabrainrot's fic series with Pervert!Roman because it's divineeee. Highly recommend it!!

Roman never saw himself as the type to have an assistant. In fact, he was the only one of the Roy siblings to not have one. Kendall, of course, had Jess, Shiv had Sarah, and even though Connor never liked to bring it up out of fear of making him seem less earnest and hardworking to his supporters, he too had a “yes man” managing his personal affairs for him. 

It was following the Hungary company retreat that Gerri offered to set Roman up with an assistant. She knew of a trusted agency that would be able to help him narrow down candidates and find a person best suited for his needs. 

That person just so happened to be you. 

Roman absolutely wolf-whistled at the picture attached to your portfolio when thumbing through the candidates he was matched with through the agency. Gerri made him promise not to make any untoward or inappropriate comments to you during your interview for the job. Roman saw it as a ‘woman thing’ but Gerri being legal counsel saw it as a nightmare waiting to happen.

Upon meeting with you and the hiring manager, Roman scoured the internet for any information on you. Even though all of the important need-to-know info could be found on your resume or your fucking LinkedIn profile—that wasn’t enough for him. 

He tore through all of your public social media accounts, saving any particularly flattering images of you (swimsuit pictures, nightclub outings, etc.) and examining them throughout the day.

Suffice it to say, you got the job.

At first, Roman doesn’t know what to make of you. He sits you at a small desk on the opposite side of his own in his office.

Personality and demeanor-wise you’re in line with what he had wanted. Physically, he was already well-acquainted with your curves and the way certain types of clothes clung to your body. 

In the long stretches of silence of you two working in the same room, he imagined briefly what you looked like underneath your clothes. 

At home when it was just him and his right hand, he imagined what it’d be like to tear them off and leave them in tatters on the floor.

The better you get to know each other, the bigger his private album devoted to images of you grows.

Roman starts to pry into your personal life, asking if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend. Then he makes random passes at you throughout the day. Having worked with a wide array of smarmy, gross men in the past—you were hardly phased. Because a part of you sees through the facade. You know he just wants to rile you up—to get a reaction out of you.

You realize after a while that he wants you to be repulsed by him. 

This incites something within you.

Roman starts dragging you to one-on-ones with investors and having you sit in on board meetings, much to the annoyance of many.

Shiv tells you (jokingly) to run before you wind up being chased down the hallways with a chainsaw. 

While waiting together outside of a rather important meeting with many high-level executives, Greg informs you of a rumor that Roman has a dick pic circulating the office. But that in particular—he had meant to send it to you. 

You don’t know how to feel.  

These forced attendances at random meetings turn into becoming his designated armpiece for public events and parties. 

At one of them, Stewy taunts Roman, saying you’re not the only woman he pays to touch him. 

You laugh loudly at this joke which surprises them both. You crack a few of your own at Roman’s expense. Some are based on fiction, the others in fact. The shame floods his cheeks but the way he grips tighter at your waist tells you to keep going. To get meaner. So you do. You get a lot meaner.

Roman’s jaw clenches for a moment. Then his lips part. You convince yourself it's just a buzz from the drinks you’ve just had; that you did not just shit-talk your boss into arousal. 

But the clumsy way Roman adjusts his stance, the subtle outline of something forming at the front of his pants, and how he excuses himself to the bathroom says otherwise.

The text you receive moments later from his number confirms this; “You know what you did, you fucking bitch.”.

It’s your direct reply to that message though that makes his breath hitch; 

“Show me then, you sick fuck.”

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[spxllcxstxr]

Fair Winds and Following Seas • R.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: That Roman soulmate fic was sooo good 😭😭😭 argfhh biting my pillow rn. May I request a scene rewrite of your choice of them already in an established relationship? They’d have cute bickering and lots of casual physical contact all the time. Maybe theyre on a yacht together like that one episode and theyre just so intertwined all the time that its hard to tell where roman ends and reader starts 😣-- anon

Summary: Roman seems to like casual intimacy, even in front of his family

Warnings: fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), based on 2x10 “this is not for tears,” established relationship, alcohol, ken suicide joke (one line, nbd), roman jokingly calls something 'domestic abuse' it certainly is NOT that, normal Roman shenanigans

Word Count: 1.1k

A.N: guys, I usually write fantasy so this dialogue may just suck ass im SORRY LMAO, lemme know what you think!!! Hope you guys enjoy! Roman is so bbg

•

The Mediterranean sun warms your exposed skin while the sea breeze keeps you from getting uncomfortably hot. The Roy's certainly knew how to take a vacation.

Roman lazily drapes his arm over your shoulders, the small act of casual intimacy in front of his siblings something you still can't really get used to just yet. The family, you learned pretty quickly, was not a clingy one, so Roman's constant need to be touching you in some way in front of them was unexpected.

You sigh happily at his side, ignoring the boring work talk the siblings had already immersed themselves in.

The weather was just too divine for you to focus on anything other than the free vacation and your boyfriend.

Shiv's piercing blue eyes peer curiously over her dark sunglasses. Her gaze causes you to straighten your back and shift ever so slightly away from Roman. You've noticed that her and Tom were never exactly touchy, but then again her and Tom were barely a loving couple.

The harsh scrutiny of her stare doesn't go unnoticed by Roman, who immediately pulls you back closer to him. Your cheeks flush at his blatant display of affection.

"Something the matter, Siobhan?" Roman asks, his voice slightly higher than usual with a British twang to it. His fingers absentmindedly trace odd shapes across your back. He sips at his cocktail, eyebrows raised waiting for her retort.

Shiv’s intense gaze slowly slides over to Kendall. Their older brother offers your group a half-assed shrug.

"Nothing at all, Roman." She offers you both a tight-lipped smile, swirling her white wine in front of her.

Awkwardly you lean back into him as he sarcastically grumbles something under his breath, unconvinced. Roman’s body in tense beside you, but stays firmly pressed next to your own.

Sounds of waves crashing against the yacht and distant conversations almost lure you to sleep though the three sibling’s chatter keeps you just conscious enough that you don’t completely drift off.

You hear Kendall get up from his seat, his joints popping.

"I'm gunna go check on dad," He says, voice low though he knows you're not actually asleep. "I'll catch you guys later."

"Just don't jump off the boat, Ken. We're not turning the ship around just for your old-ass." Roman jokes before yelping at Shiv's slap to the shoulder.

You hide your tiny grin with a fake yawn.

"Very funny, Rome," Ken mutters before leaving the three of you.

It's awkward, just the three of you alone; the tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. Shiv clears her throat and you can only imagine the patronizing look she has on her face. Roman shifts, and most likely flips her off, but otherwise he's silent.

Moments later you hear the thud of expensive yet tacky yachting shoes against the floorboards, which could only mean Tom.

"Shiv, uh," The man stutters, obviously distracted by something. Slowly you open an eye, peering over at the man. "Why don't we go and uh, discuss that thing from before, huh?"

Tom's eyes can barely settle on one thing, he looks between you and Roman before only briefly settling on his wife. His cheeks are a little red, but with a man that pasty, it's sure to be a light sunburn.

"Oh yeah?" She asks, almost seductively, blue eyes twinkling with some hidden secret.

Tom's lips tilt down into a frown, now no longer even looking in your direction. He's jealous, you figure, you've never seen him and Shiv cuddled up like this, at least not comfortably so. Someone is always tense and irritated.

After sparing her husband a glance, you see her eyes narrow and her lips drawing into a tight line.

You offer them a smile while Roman once again gives a rude gesture.

Swiftly, Shiv rises from her seat, empty wine glass in hand. She barely gestures a simple goodbye before walking away with Tom. You watch as she says something to him, which makes him recoil from her.

You could only imagine what that was about, but you figure it was you and Roman.

You press your cheek even harder against Roman's chest, almost like you're trying to burrow your way under his skin. The fresh white linen shirt he's wearing is soft underneath you. His uncalloused fingertips continue to dance across your exposed arm.

He's no longer tense, you notice; his muscles are more relaxed now that his siblings are nowhere to be seen. Logan wasn't around either, which eased the thick and looming tension that usually hung around the family.

Roman chuckles, tangling his feet around yours.

"What's got you all giggly today?" You ask, closing your eyes as you soak in more of the warmth.

"I'm not giggly, thank you very much. Giggling is for school girls and wine drunk single moms."

"Yeah, ok," You snort, smiling.

"You're just all over me like a fucking uh--"

"Koala?"

"Nah, more like one of those bigass fucking boa constrictors, y'know the ones I'm talking about?"

"A boa constrictor?" You gasp, jokingly offended at his words. Shifting from your position you eye your boyfriend. "You asshole!" Grabbing a small pillow from beside you, you hit him square in the chest repeatedly.

You're hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips, pinning him to the couch below him.

"Hey, hey!" He laughs, attempting to grab your wrists. "This is domestic abuse! ABUSE! ABUSE! Greg call the cops, she's beating me!"

Somewhere in the distance you can only faintly hear Greg stutter something, but your laughter is too loud to actually make it out.

Roman finally grabs the decorative pillow out of your hands and flings it somewhere.

His brown hair is messy, strands dangle in front of his eyes, no longer slicked back and proper. The laughter dies down but his bright smile remains, melting your heart.

"You're an absolute prick, Roman Roy, y'know that?" You whisper, lips lingering right over his.

"Oh I know," He smirks, irritatingly handsome like usual, eyes flicking between your own and your lips. "And you fucking love it."

Surging up, his lips connect with yours, traces of coconut and pineapple left on his tongue. The sweetness of rum mingles with the fruity aftertaste.

Humming in satisfaction, you close your eyes and place your hands on either side of his face, leaning into the kiss. Roman's light scruff rubs against your palms.

Eventually you pull back in order to breathe in the salty Mediterranean air. Roman's lips chase after your own, hoping to continue and subsequently never stop again.

"Yeah, I do." You sigh, gazing at his eyes as they turn into a molten shimmering gold hue in the afternoon sun.

•