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reidmotif · 23 days ago

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I’ve Got My Eye On You

Summary: Reader is a Special Surveillance agent assigned to spy on Spencer. He manages to see through her cover, and thoroughly enjoys the confrontation that follows.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, f!masturbation, slight dubcon regarding recorded sex, heavily based on that one scene in scandal, iykyk.

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

I’d always been good at watching people.

My life had been spent mostly to myself, divulging the information people offered without even realizing. When you talk less, you learn that body language, passing remarks, or even the quirk of an eyebrow gives away more than anyone ever realized– maybe more than an actual conversation at times.

And I took it all in stride, not a single detail left unanalyzed. People were always surprised when I’d mention my observations, finding a way to explain a seemingly unexplainable situation, those around me wondering how on Earth I could’ve been privy to that. I’d always shrug at their queries.

Pay more attention, I guess.

It wasn’t a surprise that I’d ended up here, I suppose, in the end, as an Investigative Specialist for the FBI. I doubt that my listening skills were exactly what landed me the job, but I’d like to believe they contributed more than they actually did. Regardless, I’d never expected the result of the decisions I’d made over the years to lead to this– involved in spying on an agent of our own.

The infamous "Dr Reid".

His specific circumstances had been shrouded in secrecy and mystery, apparently having just been let out of prison. (Prison? How’s he an agent then? Anyway, not my problem).

The Bureau had been curious about erratic behavior on his part, and the string of discrepancies involving the unit he was involved in. Apparently, there had been multiple unforeseen and unprecedented events all occurring under the same team in a relatively small time-frame, and despite smaller investigations, nothing came out of them to warrant any real disciplinary action. Probably why they brought me in, in the hopes of changing that.

I’d been assigned to put up small, virtually undetectable cameras and listening devices within his apartment. 24/7 home surveillance, no exceptions. I couldn’t help but think that the guy really should invest in better apartment security, despite how easy his naivete made my job. His lack of caution surprised me, given the details I’d been given. For a guy who had a penchant for being framed by the ghosts of his past, he sure didn’t live like it. Even as an FBI agent, he essentially had no technology to counter my own, and the height of his protection was a standard deadbolt. Was he insane? Unaware, somehow? Only time would tell, I suppose. And I had plenty of that, to watch and deduce the nature of his mind on my own terms.

My time spent with Spencer resulted in one, overwhelming conclusion. Spencer Reid lived a relatively quiet life. His apartment was barely used, honestly, given the sporadic nature of his job. (Which was a shame, in my opinion, because it’s a nice apartment). When he was at home, he seemed to remain quite unassuming. The positions I’d see him assume often were that of being hunched over on an aging leather sofa, pouring himself into grading papers, or creating lesson plans for his students. Oh, right. Did I mention he was also a professor? He is. I’d assume he likes the job, given how much of himself he gives into it, or maybe that was just who he was as a person. I wasn’t sure yet.

I monitored his life outside of the apartment occasionally as well, just to see what intel I could gather with further investigation. There wasn’t much. Coffee shops. Book shops. Coffee. Books. Coffee- God, does the guy do anything else with his life?

Most days, though, I’d liken him to butter spread too thinly over toast. Sleepless from nightmares that would have him walking around his apartment until daylight broke through the window panes. I felt exhausted just watching the guy, and it seemed insane that he could continue to live on when he left that apartment at the break of dawn. It didn’t seem like he had anyone to talk to, honestly. From what I was seeing, he wasn’t a threat to the Bureau, just a sad, middle-aged man who’d been dealt the most unfair of hands in life.

I’m sure there’s a moral somewhere in all that. To waste your potential on something that gives so little back. Oh, well. My report was nearly finished at this point, and the most I could recommend the higher-ups was to get Spencer a better therapist, maybe. This one wasn’t really helping, it seemed. Besides that, his personal behavior wasn’t indicative of anything worrying to the interests of those managing him.

At long last, it was my final night of watching him. Coincidentally, the date lined up with Halloween, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally be free of this specific survey job. Don’t get me wrong, Spencer seemed nice- but God, his life was boring. I don’t want to say it was like watching paint dry, out of respect, but previous targets had offered at least some part of their life to be interested within. Spencer had nothing. No friends over, no gossip-like phone conversations, no drunk wanderings home. Nothing! I know he didn’t sign up to be watched, but God.

Like, come on. Give me anything here.

Needless to say, I’d become accustomed to the quiet, and this night was no different. If he was following schedule, he should be home right about … now.

Now?

Now…

Silence.

Spencer was definitely a creature of habit, so to not see him adhere to the routine he’d so meticulously stuck to in the past was a bit jarring, but I assumed he was just running late.

A few hours later, I reasoned he must be running really really late. It was bordering on midnight, and he still wasn’t home. I checked train schedules, possible reports of a car crash, just about anything that could keep him from his scheduled appearance at home.

I was just about to call my supervisor to look into whether or not he’d been called out on a surprise case, but that’s when the door of his apartment creaked open, and I felt my shoulders deflate in relief. Okay, he was home. He was going to go to bed and-

He wasn’t alone.

Spencer was dressed in all black, a leather belt adorned with a gold belt buckle being the only color his outfit brought. He wore tiny devil’s ears upon his head, the headband pushing down on the mop of curls that sat atop his head. He looked absolutely delicious, if I must say myself, and it seemed the woman in his arms would agree with me.

He practically pulled her into his apartment, kicking his door in with his leg before slightly fumbling with the lock. As soon as the mechanism slipped into place, his hands were all over her, pressing her flush against his body, as if he couldn’t bear to have any space between them.

For all the time I’d been watching him, none of his behavior indicated the presence of any kind of significant other, so this girl must be a stranger. If this is how Spencer treated strangers though, I was surprised he didn’t have a barrage of women lining up at his door every night.

His lips absolutely devoured the girl, his hand cradling the side of her face, before his thigh slipped in between her legs, possibly to soothe a building ache that had built up there in the time they’d spent together, which I found entirely possible, considering I, personally, was heated from simply watching.

I watched the pixels on the screen with such precision, innocuous shades of red, green and blue painting the most sinful of images. I found myself noting the way his hand snuck up the girls’ dress, the way her breathing hitched as she pulled back, watching as Spencer presumably played with her clit. I could feel myself squeezing my thighs together, recognizing just how wrong it was to be turned on by the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t as if this was the first time a target had behaved sexually in front of me. (Or in front of the camera, I suppose.) I’d seen and heard just about anything you could think of, but this was different- in a way. To see Spencer so filthy, so confident, so- interesting. It lit a fire in me that burned with every passing moment he touched this girl.

I’m able to watch him circle over her panties in a way that has her groaning directly into his ear, a smug grin plastering his face as he watches her every reaction.

“Like that?” He murmurs, and I’ve never heard his voice so fucking deep.

She nods frantically, and it only serves to widen his grin. I can feel myself rocking slightly in my own chair, doing anything to try and soothe the fast growing arousal within me, unable to stop from imagining myself in her place. His hands, the feel of hot breath down my neck-

I’m stopped dead in my tracks, however, when his eyes suddenly shift to the camera closest to him, his eyebrow raising, as if in challenge. He continues to whisper in the girl’s ear, and has the galls to wink. I’m horrified, a very sudden and intense heat rising to my cheeks. I can only watch for a second more, before he’s suddenly pulling her away, and I realize he’s taken her within one of the only blind spots within the apartment.

I’m scrambling to turn off the feed, stunned into silence whilst, my heart beating uncontrollably and eccentrically. Oh god. He knew. He knew and he did that?!

I stare into the empty space, a multitude of thoughts inhabiting my brainscape. On one hand, the aplomb shown in that situation was commendable, since most people would react to the knowledge that they’d been secretly watched in their own home for the past few months in a much more hostile way. On the other hand, how did he even acquire that knowledge? The cameras were virtually undetectable, and he’d never let on that he was aware of their presence, and I’d know, considering how closely I’d watched him.

I shake off the thoughts, focusing on something other than the overwhelming mortification coursing through me now.

Alright, tomorrow, get into his apartment, remove the cameras, and hopefully never have to look at the man again. In any capacity, honestly.

When daylight broke, I turned on the cameras for the final time, a bit more sheepish, knowing he was aware of the devices plaguing his home. However, it seemed like he was once again pretending like he wasn’t aware of the looming existence of them, sending his female companion off her merry way once they woke up, before going about his normal routine, heading out of the apartment for what was most likely his morning coffee and then afternoon lecture at the university.

That was my cue. I turned off the cameras, quickly making my way out to sneak into his residence, the heavy door offering little resistance to my advances, my movements quiet and undetectable.

I’m in the process of removing the final camera I had placed in his bedroom, hidden behind a copy of The Sign of Four. Doyle. He had good taste, I could give him that.

I’m just about to turn around and get the hell out of there, when I hear a voice behind me.

“I noticed that one first, you know.”

I turn around slowly, embarrassed and slightly fearful to find Spencer’s eyes meeting mine. I’d watched him for so long, but seeing him now– his eyes were so beautiful. The camera didn’t do him justice.

He continues, despite the silence. “The other ones were harder to spot, I’ll give you that, but once I knew where they were, it was a bit obvious, don’t you think?”

I’m speechless. My mouth is agape, and all he seems to do is smile at my lack of prose.

“Don’t look so surprised. I know this apartment. I’m not here a lot, but I spend enough time to know when things have been shifted around.” His tone is cheeky, and he pauses, almost theatrically to add on:

“I’m sure you knew that though.” His smile turns into more of a smirk.

God, did he have to be so hot?

“Are you going to complain to the Bureau?” I manage out, keeping my eyes steady on him.

“Did you find anything of note to tell them?” He responds, tilting his head with curiosity.

I shake my head vehemently. “No, um. Nothing pertinent to say.” I get my words out in a hurry, my gaze continually trained on him.

He meets my eyes with the same stare. “Then I don’t have much of a reason to complain.”

I nod solemnly. I’m wondering where this situation will lead- what either of our next moves are. Before I can ponder long though, he surprises me and takes a step closer.

“I saw you, you know.” He says. “Thought I was going insane when the same pretty girl kept showing up at the bookstore and coffee shop out of the blue, but I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.”

“Oh.” I whisper. I really wasn’t as good as I thought I was.

“You really shouldn’t beat yourself up.” He says, chuckling with some mirth. “Again, I’m observant. I notice these things. That, and you’re pretty.” He says, forward. “So, more of a reason to notice.”

“Oh.” I reply, yet again, dumbfounded by the events currently transpiring.

“Yes, oh.” He chuckles, before he starts to move closer yet again. “Tell me. Were you watching last night?” He murmurs, his voice dropping a bit deeper as he directly addresses the elephant in the room.

I give a movement of affirmation, because at this point, what could he do? What could I do?

“So you saw.” He mumbles, moving to position himself right in front of me, his eyes darkened and laser focused on my figure.

“Yes.” I whisper, my voice hushed as our proximity decreased, his breath fanning out over my face now. I’d be uncomfortable, if I wasn’t so distracted.

“Tell me.” He whispers, letting his calloused finger finally touch my skin, running down my neck. “Did it turn you on? Watching me with her?”

I feel the familiar heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, my eyes suddenly widening not only due to the sudden proximity, but also the scandalous nature of his words. Did he mean for me to watch? Was that his plan all along? What was this sick and twisted game he was playing?

“Did it.. get you off?” He whispers, his lips leaning in to kiss lightly at the side of my neck where his finger once was.

I freeze, leaning into his touch and going statue-like all at once. I can’t help the shakiness of my voice when I reply. “I.. wasn’t neutral.”

“Mm.” He murmurs, kissing now at my jawline. “Did you get off? When she did?” He whispers.

“I didn’t watch that long.” I reply, helplessly, as I feel his hands start to envelop my waist, pulling me closer to him.

“What a shame.” He mumbles. “I think you would’ve liked the show. I did it for you.”

At this point, I can barely speak, a slight moan escaping me instead of a coherent reply as his lips continue to leave warm, wet kisses on the expanse of my flesh.

“I’m sure you’re curious.” He says, his voice soft and seductive. “Would you like me to show you what we did?”

There’s no hesitation, finally, a resounding thought I can translate from brain-to-mouth for him, in complete certainty.

“Yes.” I manage out, breathlessly.

He makes a noise of satisfaction, quickly pushing me onto the bed.

“I’d already gotten her wet by touching her before, but if my suspicions are correct.” He murmurs, his hands working deftly to undo my jeans and feel the wetness that had accumulated in between my thighs. “You already are.” He finishes.

I let out a small whimper as his fingers touch the heated flesh, unable to help my sensitivity to his small, calculated strokes over my clit through my underwear. His fingers starts to move a bit more aggressively, upon feeling the wet patch that had formed there, the flimsy fabric doing little to hide the stickiness he was now collecting on his fingers. He quickly pulls them off as well though, bringing his slightly damp fingers to his mouth, tasting the hint of my arousal that had accumulated there. His eyes were dark, watching my face for any reaction, and in that moment, I know all he can see is pure want.

I can see the same hunger within his eyes, and I feel a rush of pride as the approval radiates off of him.

“What next?” I whisper, already desperate for his next slew of ministrations. I don’t care how needy I looked. I was needy. I’d spent so long watching him, and now he was here.

“She wanted my mouth.” He murmurs, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His thumb brushes over my clit, his tongue running against plump, pink lips, wetting them, watching over me with a predatory gaze.

Before I can respond, he’s suddenly everywhere, ducking his head and allowing his tongue to brush over my sex in broad, wet strokes. My response is immediate, my hips bucking up to meet him in a frenzied motion. It seems that he relishes in whatever control he can have in this situation, because he quickly holds down my hips in a firm grip, squeezing the fat there while he continued to ravage me.

I can barely look at him, pretty brown locks splayed in his face, his lips moving hypnotically against my cunt. Little whimpers escape me, absolutely aching for more. He seems to catch on, and flicks his tongue over me, before suckling against my clit. It’s wet, messy, and the picture of debauchery– and it’s enough to drive me over the edge, my hands gripping the sheets as I cry out his name.

He seems to be unaffected, getting off his knees, his mouth glistening with my release. The sight makes me wish he could do it again, but before I can get a word in, he’s positioning himself over me, caging me against the bed.

“Then I fucked her.” He whispers, starting to undo his belt with his free hand. “Can I?”

I nod, feeling a wave of anticipation, before registering the sensation of the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I feel my chest tighten, watching him with bated breath, absolutely exhilarated.

“Relax.” He whispers, kissing the lobe of my ear. “You’re in good hands.”

He utters the last word, before sliding into me, a hushed gasp leaving the both of us. He groans in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the feel of my warm, wet cunt around him. He takes a moment, before he’s setting a steady pace, his hips bucking rhythmically into me in a way that’s designed to bring us both so much pleasure.

I can’t help the string of moans that come out with every slide of his cock inside me, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer than he already is. My hands grip onto his shirt, clawing onto the fabric to find any purchase, wanting– no, needing him on me.

Is it odd to wish a stranger could crawl into your skin itself?

“Fuck, Spencer.” I moan, unabashedly. “You feel so good.”

“You do too.” He groans, his arms braced on either side of my head before gently lowering himself to crash his lips against mine in a messy kiss.

I can feel myself barreling towards release, as is he, if the twitch of his cock inside me were to mean anything. It’s not long before his hand reaches in between where our bodies are met, rubbing my clit in fast, small circles. It’s intense in the best way possible, my body barely being able to process how good it felt in the moment.

“Come for me.” He moans, in between kisses. “Wanna feel you around me. Please.”

I can’t help but obey his words, my cunt convulsing around him in obedience as he subsequently finds his release inside me, groaning loudly as his hips thrust erratically.

He pulls out, and we’re a tangle of limbs, sweaty and sated, breathing heavy.

Of course, it’s him, yet again, to break the silence.

“Two things.” He mumbles, breathlessly.

“Mm.” I reply, weakly, my head a mess of airiness and complacency after the orgasm he’d just brought me to.

“One. I want your name.” He says, rolling to his side to get a better look at my face.

“That can be arranged.” I murmur, nodding dreamily.

“Second.” He whispers, kissing my cheek. His voice takes on a teasing quality to it, before leaning to brush his lips against my ear.

“You missed a camera. Behind the plant. They don’t stop recording, do they?”

okay wowww. clearly this was meant for halloween, if you couldn't tell! this is one of those pieces where i'm like.. hmm .. do i like this? question mark? do i want to put it out? hmm .. but regardless, i hope you guys enjoyed it!! please, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!!! it is sooo important as an author that i get some feedback and know what you guys think, in any capacity. i truly appreciate all of it <33 thank you for reading, thank you for everything!!!

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lordmattuk · 2 years ago

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I have now added search to my directory

Here is some news for the three or four people aware of my directory project. For those reading this that have not heard yet – I have been working on a directory of the very best bits of the Internet. As sections mature (and I figure out what I am doing), I will create GitHub repositories where anyone can contribute entries. Each entry is an XML file carrying all the data needed to display it…

View On WordPress

#FULLTEXT #IN NATURAL LANGUAGE MODE #matt&039;s directory #MySQL #search #TL;DR #WITH QUERY EXPANSION

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mickyschumacher · 1 year ago

Note

hi love!! Could you write something about Charles x actress!reader where he gets jealous of one of readers ex boyfriend who’s famous and maybe leads to smut?

(i really hope it makes sense, english is not my first language 😭😭)

thank you !!🩷🩷

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jealousy is a disease. and it's latest victim is your boyfriend, charles leclerc.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), jealousy obviously, zayn is kind of a dick bless him 😭, unprotected sex (wrap your tippy pls), praise, blowjob, fingering, oral sex, p in v, orgasm denial, mutual orgasms, cumming inside, mentioning power couple tomdaya ♡︎, sucky media as per usual :/

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x famous actress!fem!reader, ex!zayn malik x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: if i don't get to see charles and zayn in one room irl, i'll just write them in one room if that’s okay :( on another note, i hope this was what you wanted anon! and your english is fine, love. sorry for the wait ♡︎ // questionably written and proof-read on a jetlagged mind

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

There were many things Charles understood well. Family, racing, the politics of racing... but one thing he would never truly understand was how he got you.

The Y/N L/N. An Oscar-winning, multitalented, down-to-earth, and gorgeous actress who had entirely won the public's hearts along with Charles'. The actress who had managed to rule the industry that most were born into.

How on earth had he gotten so lucky?

Charles couldn't deny that he was Ferrari's golden boy nor that he had become a fame athlete. But got you were on another level.

For what it was worth, Charles was a confident man. He thought he cleaned up quite well, he knew his mother raised him right, he knew that charisma itself was scared of him.

Yet, all that confidence came crashing down when it came to your ex.

Zayn Malik.

If Charles could ignore him, he would. But Zayn was everywhere. On his Twitter, on his TikTok, on his Instagram... his fans and your fans especially loved him. Why wouldn't they? He was a literal Greek, well South Asian, god part of arguably one of the best boy band's in history with a voice that had been blessed by Heaven's angels themselves.

When fans questioned why you and Zayn had broken up and you had moved on with an F1 driver, Charles found himself quietly agreeing.

But then he realised that by his side was you. You weren't next to Zayn or anyone else. You were with Charles because you loved him and he loved you. And that was more than enough.

That being said, Charles couldn't help feel a bit maddened at headline he had woken up to this morning.

You let out a small yawn. Sunday mornings were the most calm for you. Especially when you had managed to snag Charles for the week. You turned to your awoken boyfriend with a smile before frowning. "What's on that screen that made you look like this, amour (love)?" You queried, rubbing a finger over the crease between his eyebrows.

Charles looked up from his phone, smiling at the sight of your face. "Nothing, mon amour (my love)," the Monégasque dismissed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you close to him.

Naturally you would've snuggled yourself into him but you could tell he was upset. "No, Cha. Tell me what's wrong. What can I do to turn that frown upside down? Hmm?" You softly asked, peeking up at him while you rested your head on his chest.

You could feel Charles' body convulse as he let a gentle chuckle pass his lips. "I can never hide anything from you, hmm? It's really nothing, Y/N. Just a stupid headline."

You mended your brows, taking his phone from his hand. If you knew anything about headlines, most of them were never good. Your eyes had captured the photo of your ex first, making you deflate a little. You continued to read the headline that made you and Zayn sound like you were still together and then went to the little summary below it.

"They're 'dying to know what happens?'," You huffed, closing his phone. You pursed your lips and peered over Charles. "I swear I didn't know he was coming, Cha. I promise. We can totally skip if you don't want the drama. I'm okay with that. We can lounge in the house and do nothing," You offered.

Charles smiled softly at your words. You were always thinking of everyone but yourself. "Thank you but I wouldn't miss you winning these awards for the world, ma belle (my beautiful). You deserve to win these awards and I'm going to watch you do it. Nothing could ruin tomorrow for me."

━━━━━━━━━━━

A few hours into the Oscars, after parading the red carpet and gushing over you with interviewers, Charles was quite sure he was right. Nothing could ruin tonight because, god, were you a sight to behold.

You had captured everyone's eyes. Talking to your stylist months ago, you had accomplished your two wishes about your appearance at the Oscars: simplicity and red.

Red on a red carpet was always a bold choice but this year's carpet was a light grey. Dressed in a custom red ball gown, a matching silk shawl and a simple necklace, you had blown everyone away.

The amount of people that had solely come to your table to compliment you was surreal. But Charles couldn't argue with them. You were surreal. When he first saw you come out of the dressing room, he could've sworn his heart had stopped and for a moment, he seriously considered your offer yesterday morning.

The most beautiful person in the world loved him. Nothing could ruin the storm whirling in his stomach. The same storm he had felt when he was trying to muster the courage to talk to you when you first met at a tennis match in Monaco.

As you two conversed with your manager about the after party activities you were considering attending, Charles and you heard a voice that was all but too familiar.

"Y/N," The voice greeted.

You knew it was Zayn. You also knew how Charles felt. So you turned around with what you thought was enough confidence and greeted him. "Zayn," You breathed out with a small smile.

"It's been a while. You look out of this world. Beautiful as always," Zayn grabbed your hand and left a small kiss.

Oh good lord.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Charles tense. You cleared your throat. "Thank you. You look.. uh, amazing as always too," You complimented awkwardly, eyes darting anywhere but his face.

Before Zayn could fill the upcoming silence with any unnecessary compliments, you linked your hand through Charles' arm. "This is Charles. My boyfriend," You smiled proudly.

Charles' could feel his heart speed up. He gave a kind smile to the singer, jutting out his hand for him to shake.

Zayn poked his tongue against the inners of his cheek, eyeing Charles' hand before returning the gesture. He locked eyes with the Monégasque, tilting his head to the side. "Right. The driver, right?"

Jesus. For a second you had forgotten why you broke up with him.

"Yeah... the racing driver," Charles responded with a tight voice and slightly narrowed eyes.

A nervous laugh fell from your lips. "O-Okay. I think we're gonna head over to Tom and Zendaya. Uh, see you around, Zayn, hmm?"

Zayn moved his eyes from Charles to you. He gave his usual charming smile. Putting his hand on your shoulder, he said, "Yeah, sure. I'm always around as you know."

Charles felt his jaw lock as he watched Zayn's hand fall from your shoulder and trail loosely down your arm before he left. "See you, Y/N. Goodbye Charlie."

━━━━━━━━━━━

The after parties were a no go. For the first time in your life you couldn't tell what Charles was thinking. The silence after Zayn left and the car ride home was unbearable. You tried to comfort him by putting your hand over his and assuring him that Zayn was just a classified dick, but nothing came from Charles.

What you did know was that Charles was pissed. The tight grip on the steering wheel, his flexed jaw, the hardened eyes... all signs of an angry Charles.

Arriving home, you both entered your bedroom after taking your shoes off. You looked over to Charles. God the silence was unnerving. "Charles? Amour, are you okay?" You asked once again.

Charles sat on the bed, looking at you stand in front of him. His mind was going as fast as the cars he drove. 'Out of this world?' All Charles could think was that he was going to fuck you out of this world. He wasn't angry about the snide remarks. He was angry that he was even jealous of such a pathetic human being. Moreover, he was furious over those small touches of his.

"Chérie (Sweetheart), come here. Let me help you change," Charles smiled, his hand beckoning for you to come towards him.

You sighed, walking over to him. You could see his hands aching to grab you but instead you stretched out your hand to touch his hair. Charles closed his eyes at the feeling. "Cha... I'm sorry about him. He's an asshole," You apologised, now rubbing his cheek gently.

Charles leaned into your caress, fluttering his eyes open so you could see those soft baby blues you had completely fallen head over heels for. "It's not your fault, chérie. I think he's regretting leaving the most smartest and beautiful woman in the world. You have nothing to apologise for."

You chuckled softly, trying to disguise how touched you felt. Charles complimented you like this all the time and it never got easier. No one had treated you like this before and especially not Zayn.

"Now come on," Charles stood up from the bed and turned you around, "Let's get this off." A small kiss was planted on the side of your cheek as Charles' eyes twinkled through the mirror across you.

You smiled warmly at him and nodded. You watched him take the red straps off of your shoulders, leaving a trail of warm kisses on either side. You sighed calmly. His hands trailed to the zip of the dress, pulling it down, he explored the smooth of your back, placing a kiss on the back of your neck. Charles gently pushed down the red gown, letting it pool at your bare feet.

You reached to the back of your neck to take off the gorgeous silver necklace you had worn but Charles stopped you by grabbing your wrists. "Leave it," He whispered, grazing your arms with his touch.

An involuntary shiver came over you at his voice and from the air rushing against your bare skin.

You could feel Charles' lips quiver at the side of your face. "Cold? Let me warm you up, mon amour."

You drew a quiet, sharp breath as you felt him move your chin so you could properly see him in your mirror. His ring-adorned hand travelled from your neck and down the valley of your breasts, ensuring to make the extra effort to glide over your nipples with the metal band.

Your breath hitched as one hand began to rub your hardened nipple while the other continued to travel down your stomach. "Charles..." You sighed out, feeling a familiar burn spark in the pits of your stomach.

Charles hummed in response, meeting your eyes in the mirror with lust and a tint of smugness. The corner of his lips quirked up, feeling you tense as he neared your pussy. Through the thickness of his own clothes, he could feel your skin begin to burn.

His cock hardened at your reaction. He had barely even done anything and his name was already falling from your lips.

His fingers continued to creep down your stomach, feeling the heat from your core radiate. A sigh of pleasure fell from his mouth as he pressed his two fingers into your folds. He could feel your arousal encompassing his fingers.

"So wet, ma chérie," Charles moaned in your ear, making you return the sinful sound back. "All for me, hmm? No one else gets you this wet, do they, chérie?"

You squirmed against him as Charles' fingers moved from the soft lips of your pussy and ghosted your clit so damn slowly. Your hips bucked involuntarily with the crave of more.

Suddenly, his juice-ridden fingers were pressed up against your bundle of nerves while his other hand tugged at your lip, waiting for your answer.

"Shit, no. No one. Only you make me this wet, Cha," You whimpered, grinding your hips up against his fingers for more pressure.

Charles smiled in satisfaction. "Let's sit, hmm?" He said, tapping your clit.

You jolted at the action, feeling his hands wrap around your waist, seating you on his lap as he sat down on your bed. Your pussy throbbed at the loss of touch but ached for the hardness pressed up against you.

"Feel that, amour? That's what you do to me," Charles grunted, feeling an obscene high come over him when you started to grind down on his cock. God did you have him under your spell. Only you could put your bare pussy down on his cock and make him want to cum in seconds.

But how could you not. In the mirror you could see a sex-hazed Charles, skin flushed at your actions. It turned you on to see him lose control.

"Fuck," Charles moaned, stilling your hips from moving any further. Ignoring your whines, he pushed opened your legs, taking in the glistening view from the mirror. Bringing his two fingers to your mouth, you opened your lips and lapped at your arousal on his fingers.

"Merde," He sighed out, moving his lubed fingers to your pussy. He teasingly rubbed his fingers fully up and down, make you gasp at the coldness of his ring. Shit.

"Charles, please. I want your fingers," You groaned in frustration, thighs taking his fingers into a tight grip.

Charles chuckled, "Anything for you, princesse." He pushed his to fingers into the soft walls of your pussy.

The both of you moaned in unison, your head falling back on his shoulders. He watched eagerly as you enveloped his fingers entirely as if it was a magic trick of some sorts. The lewd sheen of you glimmered over his fingers while he thrusted them in and out.

"Look at you, chérie. Making a mess all over me," Charles smiled against your cheek as he looked down at his black trousers which now sported a darker stain.

Your warm walls clenched around his fingers, sending Charles on a journey to find that right spot both he and you craved so much. Charles could tell by the sudden parting of your lips and the jerk of your hips that he had reached it. His eyes flickered over to your face, bringing a small smug smirk to his mouth.

Your eyes brows were creased in the middle, laden with trickles of sweat building up while your mouth remained in a constant state of opening, letting those beautiful moans fall out as your chest heaved, craving more and more of him.

The trembles, the moans, the pure state of bliss you were in... it was all because of him. And Charles loved it.

Charles brought his thumb to your bundle of nerves, rubbing you in slow circles as he continued to push his digits in and out. He whispered softly, lips dancing against the curve of your ear, "You don't know how beautiful you looked tonight, mon amour. So many eyes on you. I bet they all thought the same thing... that you looked like a goddess. Sometimes I wish they could see what I'm seeing right now. This gorgeous body, your wet pussy trembling all over me, your swollen lips.... hear those pretty little moans of yours. Then they would realise... you are perfection. Unfortunately for them, they aren't the luckiest man alive. I am."

All of a sudden, all your emotions were rushing towards you. Hearing Charles' thick voice while his fingers fucked you sent you overboard. The ache of your core was climbing higher and higher, hips convulsing. "Fuck, Charles, I'm going to cum," You murmured with staggered pants, eyes fluttering shut.

Charles smiled softly, cock throbbing at the sight of you reaching your climax. But as much as Charles loved it, he needed his cock in your warm walls.

Your eyes snapped open as you felt Charles remove his fingers from your pussy, leaving his thumb circling your clit aggravatingly slow. Your walls clenched around nothing in the effort to grab the last sliver of euphoria that Charles had brought. "Charles," You whispered, almost with a sob, eyes shaking in both annoyance and lust.

Charles brought his lips to yours, softly hushing your cries. "I'm sorry, chérie, I need you." His baby blues bored into yours, taking you in.

Looking at Charles when he had said that, given how the night had played out, the tone of his voice told you everything you needed to know. "I know, amour. I need you too," You whispered back, giving him a long peck.

You sat up from his lap, turning to undo the buckle of his belt. The clangs echoed throughout the room as the tension between the both of you became heavier and desperate. Your hands raced to take off the strap while Charles itched to take off his stained pants, cock aching to come out.

Charles let out a low groan, feeling your warm breath on his bare cock as your removed his boxers. His Adam’s apple hitched as he felt your tongue take a long wet stripe of his cock.

His fingers itched to move you away and fuck you like he initially intended to, but the moment he felt your mouth sink down his shaft, his hand naturally fell into your hair. His cock fit perfectly in your mouth as if they were made for each other.

Charles' teeth sunk down on his bottom lip, baby blues eagerly watching you on your knees for him. His hand tightened around your hair as you hollowed your throat. With your eyes flickering to him as your teeth just grazed his cock, sending a tremor down his spine, he let out a series of soft moans. "Just like that, amour," He encouraged while you sucked him up and down.

Taking long licks at the shaft of his pulsing cock, you removed your lips briefly, resting them on his tip. "Only for you, Cha," You reminded him.

Charles held your gaze, feeling another shudder rip through his body. Jesus. Speechlessly he watched you bring your swollen lips back down his cock, hand gently reaching out towards his balls. Charles' hip jerked up at the sudden action, pushing his cock further down your throat.

The rasp of his grunt made you clench your thighs, feeling your pussy drip with arousal. You could feel his cock begin to move with Charles' control, high on the pleasure. Your throat fought to keep itself open, wanting every inch of him in your mouth.

Charles' pace began to speed as the sheer euphoria began to climb up. He averted his eyes to your face, feeling himself tighten further in your throat as seeing you take his cock was a different high on it's own. Your eyes were glassy, brimming with tears of brought of lust and arousal; saliva and sweat painted your skin with a glow he cherished. But what did it for him was the small bulge in your throat; all of him just in your throat.

God, did he just want to thrust himself harder till he came. He needed to cum... but not in your throat.

"Mon amour," Charles grunted, tapping the underside of your chin.

You moved your mouth from his cock, feeling his hand gently lift your chin as you stood from your knees. No words were needed as your eyes searched his.

Bringing your lips to his, Charles wrapped his arm around your waist, flushing your burning body to his unfairly clothed chest. Yet, you could feel the heat pouring off of him. You could barely breathe as you kissed Charles; the fervent need for each other was almost overwhelming.

You could feel his puffy lips slowly detach from yours, eyes staring into yours as he positioned his cock to your wet folds.

Something about this moment felt nostalgic, reminding you of your first time with Charles. The slow and careful movements, the way Charles looked at you as if he had the whole world in his eyes... as if everything was okay as long as you were by his side.

Fuck Zayn. Fuck everyone else.

All he needed was you and he had you... entirely.

You whimpered loudly, feeling his cock drive into you, filling you entirely. "Merde," you heard Charles cuss as he flung his hands onto your bare hips. The air that was once full of your pants and the obscene sounds of your lips sucking his cock was now full of your lewd moans and the sounds of your skin slapping and sticking against one another.

His hands gripped your hips tightly as Charles thrusted into you, losing himself in the feeling of your warm folds enveloping his cock, acting as some sort of siphon that he couldn't escape while he watched your breasts bounce. No... he was under your spell.

Those same thoughts wandered into his head as he rutted into you. How had he gotten so lucky? All he knew was that he must've been a good soul in every past life of his in order to get someone like you.

"Fuck," You cursed, back arching as your body welcomed each hit of euphoria. You burned with desire, humming with approval; cheeks aflame and moans slurred. Your pussy tightly wrapped around his cock began to clench as Charles' fingers had found their way to your clit.

A shiver shoots down Charles' spine as he watched your breasts come on full display. He bent his head down, hot tongue swiping over your nipple. He moaned against your now flushed breast. You were driving him insane. He couldn't think, he could barely speak. You had taken over any stability he once had.

"Charles," You rasped, feeling the coil at the bottom of your stomach tighten.

Charles softly smiled against your breast, detaching his mouth and increasing the pace of his hips against yours. His eyes flickered down to where his cock met your folds, falling into an entrance while he watched your arousal coat his cock.

"Cum for me, chérie," Charles encouraged, feeling your hands travel up his back, pressing into the fabric of his shirt, leaving no inch of his skin missed by you.

"Charles, Charles, Charles," You moaned his name; your favourite song. Your body trembled, melting against him as he tightened his grip on your hips, steadying you as a white light ripped past your eyes, hips bucking involuntarily to fully grasp the high of your climax.

Charles takes his turn at own favourite song; your name slipping from his lips, stuck on repeat. Your folds act as a vice, gripping him tightly. His cock throbbed, the heat of his skin rising. His pants turned higher and irregular, hips coming to a falter as he felt the hot white stripes of his cum coat your warm walls.

Charles' head fell back against the bed, slowly removing his softening cock from your pussy.

You let out a small sigh, almost collapsing against Charles if he hadn't wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close to him. His blues eyes skimmed over your face, a small smile playing on his lips while he brushed your sweat ridden hair back; his fingers trailed over your swollen lips, tracing the trails of red lipstick that had escaped it's confines.

"You're coming to Monaco, right?" Charles asked softly.

You smiled at him, running your hand through those soft brown locks of his, trailing down his face and ending at his small dimple. Rubbing the spot in small circles, you earnestly whispered, "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Cha."

Charles' eyes softened, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead. "I'm sorry about tonight, amour," He apologised, feeling a slight bit childish and guilty over his reaction.

You chuckled, shaking your head, moving to rub the familiar crease between his eyebrows. "He's an asshole, Cha. I don't know if I tell you enough, but you're the man that I love... forever. There's no one else for me."

"So cheesy," Charles jested even though you could tell what you had said meant a lot to him, especially given that he had tightened his grip around you.

"Only for you, Charles," You rolled your eyes before holding his gaze. "Only for you."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1

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brummiereader · 5 months ago

Text

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Two)

Summary: As the war of words, and destruction of inanimate objects continues between you and the blue eyed squatter in your home, Mr Thomas Shelby. You are pulled back into reality from the distraction of his presence and quickly reminded of your impending, dreaded nuptials when your fiance pays you a visit. But with the Birmingham gangsters observing eyes never missing a thing. What will he make of your husband to be's unruly hand when he sees the true nature of your relationship, and that of the man you're set to marry?

Warnings: Language, angst, manipulation, domestic violence, use of one racial slur

Word Count: 4332

Authors Note: £17,000 British sterling pound in 1924, is worth £850,000 in todays value.

" Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr Abbott" you graciously greeted the piano tuner as you walked him to the main living area, crossing your arms in an attempt to put a stop to your fidgeting hands, and the relentless twiddling of your anxious fingers. How on earth were you going to explain this one? you smiled nervously to the portly man sporting an impressive moustache. It's perfectly curled, whiskery ends reaching the very tops of his wind-chapped cheeks.

After the previous days' eventful morning and a much warranted reminder that you were in fact, living with a gun-welding gangster. Tommy, your unwelcome housemate, single handedly took it upon himself to move your bullet-ridden grand piano into the living room and away from the vicinity of his quarters and ringing ears.

And with one morning of your musical skills having been missed, you were keen to reset the alarm for the following day. Or so, that's what you thought.

" What seems to be the problem then, Miss?" the man that had once sold you the precious musical instrument queried. His passion for his craft rarely seeing him leave his workshop where he preferred the sound of the ivory keys more than any human voice.

" Oh, just a small one" you replied, pushing the wooden door open. "A missing key" you found a way around to describe the charred bullet hole in the non existent note of B. B for bastard, you thought to yourself and the vandal that had destroyed it as your brow furrowed in confusion at the renowned craftsman who was now wide-eyed as you both stepped into the room.

"Oh, well this...this..." words stumped you as you turned your head to see your once glossy piano now in a piled heap of wood in the middle of the room. The hatchet used for it's barbaric destruction embedded at the very point of its woody mountain.

" Excuse me, for just, one moment" you forced a smile through the fury rapidly bubbling under your skin as you quickly turned on your heel, leaving the horrified pianist alone with the piano he had poured his love, sweat and tears into crafting as he pitifully pressed his finger down onto the only remaining chiming key of C. C for...

"Mr Shelby!" you shouted marching through the corridors in search of the only person capable of committing such a monstrosity as you came to a stop in front of the office door. Your learnt manners quickly escaping you when you stormed through without the polite formalities a lady such as yourself would possess, having had a governess for the majority of your childhood years.

"Mr Shelby!" You repeated, flying pass the opening door to see the squatters sleeves rolled up, a peak of chest hair visible through the open top button of his collared shirt your flustered stare had witnessed twice in already twenty-four hours. Hardly gentlemanly, you scoffed to yourself as your heated cheeks darted away from his causal choice of attire.

" On the mantel", Tommy said mid conversation, looking up from the papers between his fingers to the young worker with a brassy ornament in his hand.

"Mr..."

" No Beethoven this morning, eh?" He stopped you as he leant back into his leather chair with a satisfied smirk etched on his lips as you strutted forward, and the young employee made a swift exit. "Or maybe some, Mozart?" His lips tightened into a smile as he subtly cocked his head to the side, reaching for a much needed drag of a cigarette the stress of your presence gave him.

" What is all this?" you looked around the room, forgetting your barrage of accusations when your eyes widened at the many various objects he had added to your father's office to replace the ones you had hoarded.

" Oh, no, no, no. This won't do, this won't do one bit!" you said in horror, piling them into your arms whilst you made your way around the room as Tommy's scrunched brow followed you until you came to a stop in front of him. " This is my office you've just come in and commandeered. And my piano, you..."

" I think you mean my piano. In my living room. In my house, no?" Tommy corrected you as he lit a cigarette, his squinting eyes skimming over your figure hugging dress. You weren't exactly making it easy for him to look away. To ignore your bossy presence, he thought to himself as his blue-eyed stare lingered longer than intended before he snapped himself away from his wandering eyes and stood up, adjusting his tailored waistcoat.

" Look, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot" he said, playing the peace maker in attempt to replace the ferocious frown boring into him.

"The wrong foot?" You scoffed, shaking your head as he perched himself casually on the edge of the oak desk in front of you, the playful glint in his eyes toying with you through the cloud of smoke seeping from the rolled cylinder of tobacco between his fingers. " We got off on the wrong foot, the moment your foot stepped into my house and you shot, then destroyed my piano"

" Right. So those early wake up calls weren't to piss me off then? Drive me out, eh?" he cocked a brow as his tongue ran across his bottom lip, the slappable smile now teasingly glaring back at you, further irritating you.

"I...I"

"Yes, Y/N?" His brows raised, waiting for the smart response he knew your brain was trying to scramble together as he continued to keep you on a first name basis.

" I..." You stopped yourself, before you blurted something you would later berate your flustered brain for saying.

"Just so you're aware, Mr Shelby. I happen to play the violin too" you said as you wittiness finally caught up with the anger demanding all the free space in your head. "And poorly" you finished, stealing the smugness sitting on his teasing smirk as you quirked a brow. His widening eyes coming to the quick realisation that if he was going to get even an ounce of sleep to fill his notorious lack in slumber, there would need to be an urgent manhunt for the destruction of every musical instrument you possessed.

" Have at it, love" Tommy's heavy footing stomped after you as you turned for the door, his casual response hiding the protruding bone of irritation in his clenching jaw. " Last bit of fun until you're sent off to marry, eh?" He delivered the damning reminder of your predicament hot on your heels as your head snapped back to see him stood directly behind you, watching your satisfied smile drain.

" Cal Astor, no?" Tommy pointed to you, his cigarette resting loosely between the callous pads of his fingers. He'd been looking into you, gathering information, your mind urgently tried to weigh out how much he had learnt of your dire situation as your sharp glare met his. " One of the top ten richest men in the country. What a catch" he slipped the attained details of your fiance's status to you with a smirk.

" Tell me, Y/N. Why would a young lady such as yourself, weeks from marrying into one of the wealthiest families in the country care so much for bricks and mortar? " He questioned, blowing a cloud of smoke into the room as his interrogating stare bore into you while you stood momentarily lost for words once again.

"Oh, Sissy?" your brothers irritating pet name called to you from the foyer as a palpable silence settled in the room, pressuring one of you to make the first move.

" You have a guest, love" Tommy's gravelly voice broke the tension as he raised his brows, his challenging glare undisrupted from your brothers bellowing voice.

In a dramatic display of discontent for not only the way he had intruded into your home, but also, the details of your private life he had infringed on. You purposely released the items in your arms to the floor, when the sharp end of an ugly ornament stabbed you in the toe in the process, eclipsing your unfaltering stance to not have the stranger in front of you win another battle in the war he had declared.

Stifling the whelping pain now throbbing through your foot, Tommy waited and watched with curiosity. Thoroughly impressed that the lady in front of him, born with heirs and graces, had gone so long without a mere whimper, or foul-mouthed word. Was you really that bloody stubborn?

Holding in your impending scream, you swiftly turned your back and made your way out the door. Hobbling to the nearest wall, a stroppy, frustrated, grunt of pain left your lips while you lifted your throbbing foot, clutching your toe in pain as Tommy breathed out a heavy sigh and fell into the leather upholstered chair behind the wall next to you. How long would you both keep this up until you came to a solution? And how many toes, ornaments and any other inanimate object would be sacrificed in the process?

" Ahh there she is. My dear, sister" Johnathan greeted you as you walked forward through the bruising pain you had unintentionally inflicted on yourself.

" How's the houseguest?"

" Trespasser, Johnathan" you corrected him as you winced from one foot to the other, trying to ease the pressure of your swelling toe.

" Blimey, that bad?" he chuckled resting his heavy arm over your shoulders, forcing you back on to two feet with a shudder of pain. " Don't fret baby sister, church bells will be ringing soon. Then you'll be rid of this gloomy dump!" he said, squeezing you into him with a rough pat to your arm.

"Aha! Speaking of the husband to be" Johnathan said letting go as you looked up at the smartly polished dress shoes walking your way. Your stomach dropping at the sound of his voice beckoning closer.

" Darling" a voice broke through your brother's chatter as your fiance snaked his hand around your waist, leaning into your cheek.

" Cal" you meekly voiced as you turned your head away from him, earning you a scornful glare and a sharp squeeze to your hip.

"Playing hard to get are we?" Cal scoffed a laugh through his pearly whites, the insult of you refusing his affection in front of company further angering him and his tightening grasp that had become prone to landing blows to your delicate skin.

" You won't see my sister give in that easily, Cal" Johnathan laughed through the cigar between his teeth, oblivious as per usual to the true nature of his friend and acquaintance he had latched on to. Or rather, money he had latched on to.

"Indeed" Cal looked down at you with a smirk, having already had his way with you.

A moment of fear, of weakness. You told yourself when you had given into his forceful demands as he hitched up your dress whilst his heavy frame climbed on top of you.

Coerced, guilted, or even a last plea of naive hope on your part to have him finally let you be if you gave him what he wanted, you'd tell yourself in moments of reflection and sorrow for the part of yourself you lost that night when you dulled his predatory insistence with whatever drink you could find. Was that why you gave him so much power? Because he was your first intimate, and now tainted experience?

" Frances, one moment!" Johnathan called, jogging after your housekeeper as he watched her hurry away from your brother's long list of demands she knew she'd be dumped with if she didn't make a quick escape.

" You disappoint me Y/N" your fiance abruptly turned you to face him, now alone together, and away from observing eyes. " Was quite the surprise when I sent a car for you the other night and it returned, empty. My fiance, missing" he said as you tried to leave when his strong grip came down on your arm, bruising through your skin. "You're not going to go missing again are you, darling?" his irritation was felt through the sarcasm laced in his words.

Too many times had you avoided his invitations, had you purposely found yourself out of town when his presence increased with the death of your father and the rules of courting he had imposed to keep any premarital scandals at bay. The only rule your father had ever implemented in your life that you were thankful for.

" No" you shook your head, your strong character once again unable to stand up to the man you had unwillingly passed so much control of your words and actions over to.

" Good girl" he chided, a satisfied smirk growing on his lips closing in on yours as you flinched at his pressing hold around your reddened wrists, forcing you to endure his embrace.

" Johnathan, the car" he smiled breaking away, releasing you from his grip as he called for your brother who childishly waited on his every word.

Stood alone in the foyer, rubbing the taste of him from your swollen lips, the bruising soreness from your bluing skin, you watched as your brother entertained the man you had become to loathe, when your tearful eyes turned to see Tommy stood between the frame of the office door, having witnessed the most vulnerable part of your existence you had shamefully hidden away.

For be it poor or rich. A woman's woes in the time you lived in were always unheard, always played down to an inaudible silence. And Tommy was no fool to think otherwise, as he too stood silently watching you walk away without a word.

Sat in the bay window of your room later that morning, you smiled as you watched the stable hand pat down your mare's dusty coat, giving her the pampering she deserved.

"Your tea, Miss" Frances announced as she walked through the door with a silver platter of England's finest, freshly brewed. " Good heavens! What ever happened to your foot?" She said upon seeing your expanding toe precariously resting on a stack of cushions and books.

" Mr Shelby" you said as your eyes narrowed in on the trespasser now approaching your thoroughbred down in the courtyard.

" Mr Shelby did this?" Frances' eyes widened upon hearing your accusations as she examined your lack of care for your swelling digit doubling in size.

" No, Mr Shelby's ghastly ornament did that" you said briefly looking at your propped-up foot before your attention returned to outside. " What on earth is he doing?" You curiously observed the squatter, his presence a welcome distraction to your impending nuptials and crippling worries. Not that you would admit it, of course.

" Oh my" Frances's hand flew to her chest as she watched the bridle being adjusted to your saddleless horse. " I should go warn him" Frances turned to leave when you hoped up with a giddy smile as you searched for the shoe you would force to fit around your ballooning foot.

" No, no" you gently rested your hand on your housekeeper's arm, stopping her from sabotaging your fun. " Let him find out himself" you grinned as you limped to the door, leaving Frances shaking her head disapprovingly at the woman she had cared for since she was a rosy-cheeked baby, toddling from one foot to the other.

Stood by the stable door, you curiously watched as Tommy whispered words of gentle reassurance to your horse, brushing his hand down her muzzle as your steps apprehensively approached closer, unsure if the topic of conversation would be your finances heavy hand he saw earlier that day, you wished not to discuss.

" How's your toe?" Tommy asked, his cigarette resting loosely between his lips as he turned to face you with an emerging smile dimpling the corners of his eyes.

" My toe? Good as new" you lied, badly, as you crossed your arms at the amusing chuckle leaving your unwanted guests' lips." You should saddle her" you warned him as you watched him lead her towards you, secretly hoping he would continue his refusal to listen to your bossy demands.

" Was born riding, love. Think I can handle her" he confidently proclaimed as he shot you a wink. " Come on, steady now" he patted her side as you followed behind them, eager to see him unceremoniously take a blow to his insufferable cockyness.

" What's her name?" He asked as he lifted himself up, adjusting the reigns in his hands to his liking.

" Nelly" you said as you leant back on the wooden fencing of the small paddock, taking the weight of your throbbing foot you had shoved into the soles of your tightly laced boots.

" Nelly, eh?" Tommy quietly mumbled clearing his throat, suddenly doubting his riding skills as he looked down at the jittery creature bouncing from hoof to hoof. " Steady, girl" he managed to control her erratic movements as he pulled back the reigns with a gentle pressure. " Don't show me up, Nell. I'll never hear the end of it" he quietly whispered to your horse with a pat to her neck as you watched on with amusement.

" See, we're doing alright. Aren't we Nelly?" Tommy called out to both you and your horse as he trotted along the muddied ground. " She just needs some firm guidance, is all" he said as he passed by your rolling eyes. " With a horse like..." Tommy continued his unsolicited advice when a freckled orange and black butterfly passed in front of him, causing Nelly to rear up in fear before throwing him off and bolting away.

" Shit" Tommy huffed at the sound of your approaching hysterics as he lay in the mud, his ego having been embarrassingly taken down a few notches off it's high pedestal.

" Am I in hell?" he opened one eye to see your smirking face looming over him with your hand out for him to take, when your smile turned to a scowl and you let him drop to the ground once again. " No, still alive" he grunted as he pulled his body and throbbing head back up, resting his arms on his bent knees as he watched your horse trot towards you. " Her name wouldn't happen to stand for nervous Nelly, would it?" Tommy looked up at you both as he watched you nuzzle your head against her neck, her thumping heart slowly settling with your tender touch.

" Nervous Nelly, notorious Nelly. Even nutty Nelly at one point. My girl has earned herself quite a collection of nicknames, haven't you, darling" you said as you cupped your hand under her muzzle, letting her lick the saltiness of your palms.

" Here" you said, putting your free hand out for him to take. " Are you hurt?" You asked as you both hobbled out of the paddock back to the stables. Both a sight of giggling fits for the staff of Arrow House looking from behind the twitching curtains of your shared home.

" No more than your toe is" he smiled down at you as you walked beside each other, free of any bellowing voices or snide remarks for the first time in almost a week, having both taken a dramatic blow to your obnoxious stubbornness.

" Mr Shelby" you turned to face him as you gave the reigns to your stable hand. " How much did my father owe you?" You took the opportunity to ask the question that had been nagging you in your brief truce before the battle of words recommenced.

" £17,000" Tommy exhaled as he looked at you from the corners of his eyes, a feeling of pity for you and the burden your father had selfishly lumbered you with stopping him from making any smart remark.

With a future of little prospects, other than that of a high-society marriage, every woman such as yourself was destined for. Tommy had come to the knowledge that your father had secured your life by marrying you off into wealth rather than leaving you with his fortune to pave your own way in life.

As your eyes widened and the learnt details of your fathers debt and how big of a whole he had dug in his wake. A guttural feeling of dread weighed down your stomach at the large sum of money your father owed, nearly exceeding that of Arrow Houses' value.

" I will pay you back, Mr Shelby" you said as you looked back to your home and it's surrounding land. Suddenly feeling you had nothing else to offer other than your word.

"Look, Y/N..."

" I will find a way, Mr Shelby" you made a pledge you knew would be near impossible to uphold if the deeds to your house had indeed, no standing.

With a small nod of his head, Tommy gazed down at you as a brief moment of peace captured him in the silent breeze of summer blowing a lock of hair drifting across your cheek, glittering with the welcome rays of the midday sun. A silence you both welcomed in the neutral grounds of no man's land until the sound of your brother hurtling down the drive, car horn blaring, deafened your ears.

" Sister! I won it! I bloody won it! " Your brother laughed maniacally, high on his win with a wad of cash in his hands, having spent the entire morning in the casinos with your fiance.

" God's sake" you felt the embarrassment of your brother's presence as your eyes darted to Tommy undoubtedly judging your renowned noble name, questioning how a family such of your selves came to inherit it as you watched him ignite a cigarette behind the orangery glow of the flame.

" Sweet pea" Cal's voice approached you as you shifted away, stumbling into Tommy as you did. " Sorry" you apologised, tucking a rebel hair behind your ear with your flustered fingers as he steadied your fall with a gentle hand to your back, a touch foreign to you with the heavy strikes you had become accustomed to from the opposite sex.

"Cal, Mr Thomas Shelby. Mr Shelby, Earl Cal Astor" you introduced the two men as you stood in the middle, looking between their glaring stares as you subtly shrugged of your fiances hand on your arm in the process.

"Pleasure" Cal greeted him with a belittling tone of superiority with his hand out as Tommy's hovered momentarily in the empty space between them before lifting it to take a smoke. Only a mere nod of his head in acknowledgment of his presence.

Murder, theft, prostitution, gambling. Tommy did not only live a life in the dark shadows your fiance and brother would visit for entertainment. He was the maker of it. The master puppet to the riches seedy side of life he and his men would adorn with gold-collumed bars, and live jazz music to have them fill his pockets. He had met a dozen men like your fiance. Each a replica of the other. Each of them in the privacy of their home with wives, lovers and maids accustomed to feeling the back of their hand when money didn't get them what they felt they were owed.

There were many things Tommy's wavering moral compass didn't stand for. And have no doubt, he had seen the bruises on your wrists, the tears unspent in your eyes you hid as you hurried away earlier that morning.

"Excuse me. I have a business call" your unexpected houseguest said as he threw his cigarette to the ground, inches from the perfectly kept shoes of your fiance.

" Shelby!" he called with a mocking chuckle, angered by the blow of disrespect he'd been shown. " Perhaps you would grace us with your presence at our engagement ball next week. Then you can find the time away from your pressing business matters for us to get to know the Small Heath gypsy boy living with my soon to be wife" he tauntingly finished with his nose up, lifting the heavy gold signet ring of his family's crest to your lower back you had already felt on numerous occasions, the sharp end of.

Coming to a stop at the steps of Arrow House, you watched the notorious gangster with his hands seated in his trouser pockets as his back stayed turned to you, whilst you silently prayed he would refuse the invitation and childish game of belittling any class below him you knew your fiance was set on making a spectacle out of in sheer spite. A game you were not willing to play.

" Next week it is, Mr Astor" Tommy's low rumbling voice replied, never ceasing the opportunity to further his endeavor as his strong statue disappeared into the darkened foyer and the door shut behind him.

A potential for business, or rather a show of power to the man that had insulted his heritage so freely with one single disdained word used to rile him up and have him show his business acquaintances the true colours of the leader to the notorious cut-throat gang he had kept from their lives until any encouraging reminder was needed. For they were no better than him. Criminals with the most unsavory of dealings. And you had better believe, Tommy had no qualms being the one to show these men their own true colours, and the reminder that they were no different to any small-time thief from Small Heath with only a title of nobility slapped on the end of their name seperating them. No qualms at all.

NEXT PART

Tag list: @weaponizedvirtue @un-interneted @mama-ivy @kmc1989 @leighla3

@emotionalcadaver @mamawiggers1980 @sweetcheesecakesblog @cljordan-imperium @peakyswritings

@tiedyedghoulette

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby series #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders series #uptown girl

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cynicalrosebud · 3 months ago

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AI Reminder

Quick reminder folks since there's been a recent surge of AI fanfic shite. Here is some info from Earth.org on the environmental effects of ChatGPT and it's fellow AI language models.

"ChatGPT, OpenAI's chatbot, consumes more than half a million kilowatt-hours of electricity each day, which is about 17,000 times more than the average US household. This is enough to power about 200 million requests, or nearly 180,000 US households. A single ChatGPT query uses about 2.9 watt-hours, which is almost 10 times more than a Google search, which uses about 0.3 watt-hours.

According to estimates, ChatGPT emits 8.4 tons of carbon dioxide per year, more than twice the amount that is emitted by an individual, which is 4 tons per year. Of course, the type of power source used to run these data centres affects the amount of emissions produced – with coal or natural gas-fired plants resulting in much higher emissions compared to solar, wind, or hydroelectric power – making exact figures difficult to provide.

A recent study by researchers at the University of California, Riverside, revealed the significant water footprint of AI models like ChatGPT-3 and 4. The study reports that Microsoft used approximately 700,000 litres of freshwater during GPT-3’s training in its data centres – that’s equivalent to the amount of water needed to produce 370 BMW cars or 320 Tesla vehicles."

Now I don't want to sit here and say that AI is the worst thing that has ever happened. It can be an important tool in advancing effectiveness in technology! However, there are quite a few drawbacks as we have not figured out yet how to mitigate these issues, especially on the environment, if not used wisely. Likewise, AI is not meant to do the work for you, it's meant to assist. For example, having it spell check your work? Sure, why not! Having it write your work and fics for you? You are stealing from others that worked hard to produce beautiful work.

Thank you for coming to my Cyn Talk. I love you all!

#anti ai #chatgpt #cyn speaks

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yawntu · 2 years ago

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Okie your right bestie now that your ask box is open you have to do the avatar guys reacting to spicy body piercings. Neteyam, Roxto, Ao’nung and Lo’ak I AM BEGGING YOU

/)/) ( . .) ( づ♡

a/n: Head so empty had to get this out though bc two other people agreed tongue ring was chefs kiss. We have a bunch of ancient cultures who pierced their tongues ritualistically so the Na’vi probably do it

Pairing(s): Ao’nung x reader, Neteyam x reader, Roxto x reader, Lo’ak x reader

word count: Little under or ~1k for each character

warnings: NSFW / MDNI, Characters are 18+, Spice under the cut, all characters are 18+, proceed with caution. Descriptions of sexual activity, Alludes to fallacio, Sexual situations, Vulgar language. Inspecting? They’re looking inside your mouth idk. Spit kink (Neteyam), idk man if there’s something i miss lmk

꧁ Aonung: is no stranger to bodily modifications. He can confidently say he did not love the feeling of being tattooed the way some of his aunties and uncles would swear they did. He didn’t brag that he could fall asleep though the pain of ink being malleted security into his thick skin. Which is why for a second Aonung cannot seem to comprehend how his squirmy little girlfriend could have sat through such an ordeal, cringing at the pang of jealously that rises in him at the idea that others would have the same foul thoughts regarding the adornment that he has.

One of his favorite places to be is the netted hammock that sways outside of his marui. He enjoys the cooling sea breeze through his downed hair while watching the waves dance in the wind. Mindlessly keeping an eye out for anything that may intrigue him. It was undoubtably a good place to be whenever he found himself to be stressed or tired. Even better- it was a peaceful place to relax with you. He can agree to himself that he liked this spot even better when your legs straddled his waist and he got to rub loving circles onto your body with the pads of this thumbs while you joined in on his sea gazing. Its only when you shift on his torso that he realities thoughts had wondered past the words you were speaking. It was not often that you would loose his devoted focus, however, he realized he was not really listening to you as you spoke. Not in a cruel or inattentive way way. He did not mean to disregard you. He was just too distracted at the soft slur you give off. That was different. He has spent so long grasping at every word you said- every noise to fall from your perfect mouth. So he knows that there is something wrong.

“You break a tooth?”

He knows he is rude for cutting you off and even ruder for jostling you up as he sits up slightly in worry. Evident concern that you had fallen or bit into something and broken a tooth and that is where the slur of your words came from. That you were in pain. Though it had been some time since the incident, he remembered when Tsireya’s best friend had faced a similar ailment and his mother had been forced to pull the tooth from her skull. He shuddered remembering the ordeal, and hoped you would not go though the same pain.

“Nuh-uh,” you assure rubbing a hand against his soft cheek, eyes softening in endearment at his worry.

Your sweet boy is sitting up further to move closer to you in query when you greet him with the sight of your pretty wet tongue sticking out past your soft lips. The prettiest adornment nestled on your tongue makes his lower stomach twitch. You can’t help but pull yourself back a bit in surprise at the sight of his imposing form sitting up quicker then you expect him to. The natural reflex of your body as he adjusts your position in the hammock you were both meant to be napping on. Your movement only results in his thick calloused palms making a firm grasp for your cheeks, holding your face steadily in front of him for his viewing pleasure,

“Open your mouth.”

He’s bossy, and for a second you worry he absolutely hates it and will instruct you to remove it once you give into his demand. The thought alone is what keeps you from listening to him quick enough for his liking. Which is probably why once your lips finally start to part again his pointer finger is quick to hook over your lower teeth, pulling your jaw open so he could inspect you once again. Not giving you a choice in closing your mouth once again.

All you can do is peer down at his inquisitive eyes that seem to be judging the very ivory of your teeth and whine at how intently he is staring down your welcoming throat. He does not mean to look so incredulous as he inspects your wet mouth. Your tongue is swollen and the intrusion of his long finger has your salivary glands working overtime coating the little ball in you saliva. You look perfect on his lap, spitting all over his finger as it hooks your jaw wide open for him. He only removes the binding finger from your mouth when he inquires,

“Who touched you?”

You’re confused for a second, not realizing he means the piercing until the pad of his finger caresses the tip of your tongue careful to avoid the sore center. He can’t help but wonder what burly large man had touched your pretty fleshy tongue that belonged to him. He feels terribly for the anger that bubbles at the thought of said man getting to see you sat obediently, mouth open and waiting. He could only imagine what thoughts they had as your big pretty eyes stared at them while they made a new hole in your body. As if you mean to scorn him you only giggle. You giggle at his jealousy, and though it should vex him more he can’t help but feel soothed at your reaction,

“Your mo’ther,” you giggle and the material clinks against your teeth, and you slur over a too long bar that accommodated for the swelling.

It soothes him a little. His mother- your mother- had pierced you and not one of the men he had known with said job. Now the only issue at hand was the fact that he was sure other men would see it and have the same first thought that had crossed his own mind.

“It was for Eywa,”

The holy name cuts him from his unholy thoughts. He instantly meets your words with his objurgate simper that you’re used to. A unique expression that conveyed a playful scold that he knew was sure to leave you putty in his hands.

“Nah, you know better. That’s there for me,”

His words make your face flush a pretty shade of plum and you find it increasingly hard to look up at him. It’s endearing to him really, your cheek warm against his open palm. He runs the finger covered in your spit against your bottom lip,

“Ya, can’t wait till it heals. Gonna feel real good when you gag on my cock, huh tìhona?”

꧁ Neteyam doesn’t really care what you do to your own body. It’s your own body; how could he possibly tell you what to do with it. Besides the fact that he thinks it was cute how brave you were for sitting though it, he can’t help but find the way you toy with it annoying. Neteyam still thinks it has its own unique charn though.

Neteyam is too aware. It’s probably why he struggles so much to relax. Something always draws his attention, and he can’t stop his brain's desire to hyper-fixate on it. For this reason Neteyam is well aware of your tongue ring. In your defense he was aware of the adornment from the beginning. He knows so much about it as he was there as the sharpened point was pushed through you outstretched tongue while his mother howled in laughter at the way your tail extended out in shock at the pain.

In all honesty, he has rarely caught a glimpse of the jewelry since you had done it. Despite your loud mouth, the jewelry stayed relatively hidden behind your ivory canines. he guesses you just don’t open your mouth that wide. It’s a shame he doesn’t get the luxury of just catching a flash of the adornment. Instead, he lays here on an old roll-out woven mat, basking in the warm sun with you draped across him. It should be a calming ordeal. Yet you preoccupied yourself with rolling your tongue ring across the ridges of your teeth with no regard for the safety of the bones.

This is supposed to be relaxing. That was the point of coming out here to nap away from the intrusions of your families and burdens of society. As much as laying with you is meant to calm his ever-increasing nerves the fact that the clank of your tongue piercing gliding across your teeth in some sort of stim is ever present and driving him up the wall.

“Cut it out,”

His voice comes with a bite to your fleshy cheek which makes your eyes blink open. You pass him a displeased glance from where you lay next to him.

“Why? Am I irritating?”

You ask him so sweetly that if he had not been so sleep deprived he would have assured you that you were perfect and nothing you could do would ever vex him,

“Very. I’ll rip that thing out of your mouth,”

You laugh because he sounds exactly like his mother, yet had the same scolding undertone his father had often taken on. He is almost pleased with you when he feels you roll over half onto him, thinking you had accepted defeat and would settle down for seep. Relishing in the feeling of you tossing one of your legs over his waist and propping yourself up on one elbow to quickly cuddle against him. His sweet purr as you run your fingers through his braids swiftly almost makes you feel bad for the fact that you lean down to run your wet muscle from the bottom of his jaw to the top of his cheek. It is almost scary how slowly his eyes open. He cannot even feign shock at the way you play with him and his dwindling patience. It is ridiculous- you are ridiculous. Yet you are still shocked (and delighted) at how quickly Neteyam is hooking his leg around yours and rolling the both of you over so your back presses firmly to the mat behind you in retaliation for your annoying actions.

“Does being a imp bring you satisfaction?” He asks, though there’s no indication of real annoyance.

You grin up at him so pretty too, he can’t help but appreciate your mouth. The plush of your soft lips, and the shine of your ivory teeth,

“Undoubtably!” you chip,

And then his thumb runs across your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly so he can look at the red of your gums.

“Open your mouth, annoying girl.” he huffs down at you.

Though you intend to listen to him he does not give you the time too. Squeezing your cheeks between his freed palm until you have no choice but to part your lips for him. With your leg wrapped around his waist your foot rests on the small of his back and you can feel the muscles of his lower back flex as his tail flicks between his legs in excitement at the sight. As you loll your berry-fleshed tongue out for him he wastes no time in returning the crude indecency of your previous actions to you. You’re not dumbfounded when his spit lands on your waiting tongue, but you do jerk under him with a huff. Nonetheless, you are so good for him still, waiting for him to smile and give you a slurred go-ahead before you swallow.

Neteyam guesses he likes the stupid thing. Gives him something to aim at.

꧁ Roxto is shy. Not with normal people. But when you speak to him so pretty him he can’t help but tense up at the way his mind wanders. Especially as you sit there blabbering about your home in the jungle, she should be listening but he’s too busy eying the piercing in your tongue and wondering what it would feel like on him.

Rotxo is sweet. So sweet that he feels terrible for the way he stares at your mouth from where he is lent opposite on a thick mangrove root while you speak. Chirping away at him because you had grown the closest to him out of everyone after your arrival.

Don’t get him wrong. He could spend his whole day and whole night (and whole existence) with you. He liked nothing more than sitting pleasantly next to you or with his head on your lap while you spoke. He had been thankful for the fact that you had gotten the closest to him out of anyone you could have chosen when your family arrived at his home. He truly thought you were the most interesting person he had ever met. Perhaps that is why he watches you so intently. As if he is worried he will miss even a fraction of what you had to offer. He felt like he had known a decent amount about you. Knew you well enough that he could predict what you would say before you had even said it. Which is probably why he is so eager to get his question out.

“What is in your mouth?”

He just faces the nalutsa head-on. Blurts his question out; almost cutting your sentence off early. Once your eyes snap up to meet his from where you picked at stones on the ground. Your tongue is rolling out of your mouth in response as you stand to face him,

“This?”

Of course you sound silly as you talk around your tongue, but Rotxo is just looking at the modification. His first question is did it hurt, and you gave him a deadpan ‘obviously’. Despite this, you seem to be far more interested in this line of questioning than you had been while you were rambling. Ears are drawn forward in his direction, arms behind your back while your tail twirled behind you.

When he asks why you would do such a thing (despite having tattoos himself) you tell him it was a thing some of the more spiritual people of your clan would do. He could not help but feel a little guilty at the fact that all he can think about is how it would feel twirling around the head of his cock. How pretty you would look sitting on your knees with your tongue out waiting for him to paint the shiny little adornment white. He doesn’t even realize that his eyes are trained down on you, and his tail sways between his legs.

But you notice. You notice the way he relaxes on his arms more. How his pretty sea-foam green eyes relax as he maintains tantalizing eye contact. The fact that his ears are drawn back, his jaw is clenched and his tail thumps slightly against his own leg, dragging across the ground behind him would be evidence alone of where his thoughts had traveled to. The thick bulging at the brown fabric of his tweng however seals his fate. You giggle at him. If all it took to work him up was a flash of your tongue then you will surely be the death of him. He is not even listening to why you had done it, what it meant. Ignoring all talks of salvation so he could look down at you and think of what you could only fantasize about.

“Ya, but you do not really care why I got it, huh?”

Your question catches him off guard, mostly because you are right and he’s too busy thinking about you to notice that you had once again begun to ramble. He is terrifyingly intrigued when your moving to stand right in front of him, head cocked up curiously at him, an amorous smirk on your lips.

“You just care about what I can do with it.”

Like the tease you are, you glance down at his hips. It is only then he realizes how tight the confines of his bottoms had gotten.

“You really are a devil huh?” His fingers are digging into the bark of the root he leans on as he huffs out the only thing he could think to say. He supposes there was no honor in hiding anything now- to bashfully try and defend the situation. That pretty tongue of yours sliding past your teeth to lick across your lips,

“If you want a vrrtep I can show you a vrrtep,”

Your voice is charmingly playful, and he can hear the click of the ring against a tooth. As your fingers dance across his lower stomach you’ve all but convinced him to be at your mercy with no effort. When you wordlessly drop to your knees before him he cant help the noise that ripples through his chest. Parts of him buckle at the idea of letting you be in charge and show him more of that pretty tongue ring but he can’t help but be honorable. Try to gain some sort of dominance. He thought he had gained the upper hand when at the contact of one of his big palms to the back of your head. The assumption was foolish of him. To think for a second he had the upper hand. The feeling of the cool material on your tongue sliding up his thigh has his fingers knotting in your hair and his breath coming out in huffs. He thinks it’s perfect- you’re perfect. He can’t wait to feel it everywhere.

꧁ Lo’ak doesn’t mean to not notice really, you were both so busy. You should take it as a compliment how hard he focuses on your eyes when you talk. But when he finally catches on that somethings different about you and you show him he can’t help but get too excited.

You were Lo’aks very best friend. In fact, you could not recall a point in life where he was not at your side while your gaggle of friends got into mischief. In all honestly you had spent your childhood following Lo’ak around like his shadow, and it is a habit that has followed you into your adulthood. You know he is plagued with an overabundance of energy and thus kept you entertained the best. Lo’ak was many things- emotionally aware, compassionate, charming, and with no effort made you feel alive. He’s probably why you were a bit of an adrenaline junky, and why you so eagerly agreed to the modification to your body after your Uniltaron. There was some reason behind the bleeding that you did not quite know if you cared about more then the fact that there was a cool piercing in your mouth.

Most importantly, you had hoped Lo’ak would have noticed the piercing quickly, however, the fact that Lo’aks own Uniltaron was the day before yours and he (like his father) had an intense experience, meant that you had uncharacteristically been apart for what you considered too long. Lo’ak had spent the days in which your tongue was at its most swollen (and thus noticeable) resting at home. Though you had been plagued with your own duties which made any meaningful interactions between Lo’ak and yourself non-existent since then. This meant that he just hasn’t noticed the new addition to a body he was rather familiar with. The lapse in time spent together was not something either of you had been used to, nor particularly fond of.

Which is why Lo’ak is blabbering to you wildly while you both eat your supper. You think he’s cute despite talking with his mouth full, and your dazed staring is what pulls Lo’ak out of his excitement and forces him to stare back at you. It is when he noticed you’re eating lighter than usual.

“Soup? It’s too warm for soup,” his tone indicates it’s an astute observation in his mind, “Are you sick?” He asks, reaching to touch your head. You snicker at him as you smack his lingering hand away,

“No, skxawng- you really hadn’t noticed?”

The playful faux sadness in your voice still barbs at his heart. It is quickly replaced with an indescribable feeling when you open your mouth for him and he’s greeted with a heart-stopping view. Eywa you were pretty, and for a second you looked like you could really be his- looking up right at him with your mouth wide open. It’s innocently possessive for a second, really he hadn’t thought too much into why he had reacted to the view in such a way. That was until he noticed the little ball perched on the center of your tongue. Like the little stones they found in the river mollusks they used as jewelry.

“Oh shit!”

His response makes you shut your mouth and snicker while your tail wags faster than you had been used to. You even turn your head in to avoid his ardent eyes. Though Lo’ak is quick to brace his hands on the wooden table to lean over and follow your gaze,

“I wasn’t done- hey,” and when he pinches your cheeks in his hand he almost knocks over your soup with the enthusiasm he exudes.

“You are acting like a fool,” your smiling half out of amusement, half out of pure inarticulate flabbergast at how quickly he had become interested in the orifice.

“Does it hurt?” He questions.

If it’s possible his smile grows larger at the shake of your head,

“Let me kiss you then,”

It leaves his mouth before you can even tell him how the pain has passed. It’s incredulous, how brazen Lo’aks words are considering his parents were barely out of earshot also enjoying their meal.

“Are you the one with a fever?”

Your voice crack is loud as you grip his wrist, and you make a note that you lean closer to him almost subconsciously.

“What? We have kissed quite a bit?”

In secret- in private- not when everyone you knew was right there, you were sure people presumed but you did not particularly feel the need to deal with the questioning eyes of either your families or your friends.

“You’re parents are right there, Lo’ak. I am not-” But his pretty wide smile cuts you off, and his tail swings down to snatch your swaying one

“We can go somewhere they’re not,”

There’s a snort in his voice like it’s the obvious answer. As though the both of you getting up and walking away together wouldn’t have drawn the same questioning gaze that kissing would have cast upon you, Eywa knows why you are dumb enough to nod at him. Quickly moving to stand up first, but pause when his tail stays wrapped right around yours halting your movement, and you look to him quizzically.

“You gotta wait a minute before we’re going anywhere,”

You’re confused. He was just so eager to be alone with you. How could he possibly be more interested in his previously abandoned meal? And how can he be chuckling at you- and why is the free arm he had propped on the table motioning towards the bench you both sat on and- oh. Thats why. The undeniable tent forming. A reminder why you so quickly agreed to be whisked away by him.

#avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar (2009)#aonung x reader #lo’ak x reader #rotxo x reader #neteyam x reader #aonung smut #lo’ak smut #neteyam smut #rotxo smut #avatar imagine #sacrilegious thots

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jacelynsia · 2 years ago

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Where Will Natural Language Query in the Data Analytics Space Be 1 Year from Now?

Discover the future potential of Natural Language Processing (NLQ) and its impact on various industries. Explore how NLQ can improve healthcare, customer service, education, and policy making. Get insights into the increasing investment in NLQ and NLP technologies.

#NLQ #virtual tutors #Natural Language Query #improve healthcare #customer service #education

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weirdlookingsnakewithlegs · 1 month ago

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I’m surprised I haven’t posted about this soon but Seekers definitely don’t sound normal and the Vosian language definitely isn’t normal either.

I have no doubt that a seeker’s voice box is much more specialized than the average Cybertronian, they need it for their language. The Vosian language, complex as it is, hold three main points; the EM field, wing movement, and vocalizing.

Now seekers don’t necessarily have words in their language, it’s a mixture of calls, mimicry, movement, and emotion. It’s perhaps a reason why seekers have such a reputation for being dramatic. Now some may only view seekers as wild animals completely for the fact they click, warble, bellow, chirp, and so forth.

I imagine bellowing similar to the way alligators do it, that low and heavy rumble building up in their throat. It’s likely a way to show content, only doing it when they feel safe. Similar to purring, which honestly could be a cause for the bellowing as well.

Chirps are probably more on the acknowledging side, used to find trinemates or sparklings, the high pitched noise surprisingly different to each seeker which helps with identification. I also imagine they do it when answering yes, a sense of approval marinated in the noise.

The little warbles are probably more like queries, often paired with a cocked helm and a little wing flutter. Other times it’s used when they’re gently surprised, like the noise a cat makes when you pet its back while it’s not looking.

The clicks might be more aggressive in nature, a warning perhaps before the seeker revs their engine with a growl. Likely often heard when wings are raised high and a snarl is on their face.

There’s so much more you can do, especially with mechanical noises. If anyone else has any thoughts I’d love to hear them >:3

#transformers #transformers g1 #seeker culture #seeker trine #feral seekers #starscream #skywarp #thundercracker

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gb-patch · 1 year ago

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New Community Management Help!

Hey everyone!

There's some good news at GB Patch Games. My brother David who edits game scripts is now also going to help with getting back to people who have general questions/comments going forward.

On our Patreon nothing is gonna change, it'll still be me 100% of the time for every interaction. I'm also going to be the one making all update posts on socials and answering asks here on Tumblr and anything more unique like that. But if someone makes a comment on Kickstarter asking if the game will be available on Switch or someone sends a message to the company email asking if the game is available in other languages or anything of that nature, then it'll most likely be David who sends off a quick reply.

Since we've not got a more frequently updating TikTok now and a very active Kickstarter, the amount of queries being sent in each day has finally tipped past what I can manage to keep up with while still getting as much game development work done as I need to. I'm very grateful I won't have to choose between getting behind on writing/programming and having to make people wait a long time for replies to even basic things.

I never expected I'd have to make this kind of change. I'd been determined to reply to every single thing myself forever, aha. But it's great to see that interest in our games has only kept growing over the years! Thank you for the support. We'll all keep doing our best here at GB Patch Games 💕.

#our life #visual novel #dating sim #interactive fiction #our life: beginnings & always #our life: now & forever #gb patch #gb patch games

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ichorai · 1 year ago

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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.

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