#but he said his name is shiv

[xoxotiamathh]

Bhai now i wanna have sex w my bf but we're both home for the holidays 😭😭 2 states ho gya

[fat-fem-and-asian]

me personally? i'm a mondale roy truther. shiv got mondale when she moved to DC and he knows every trick because she sent him to doggie boarding school. mondale tried to bite tom the first time shiv brought him over and tom carried bacon in his pocket for weeks but still got bit on the ass. 3 months after the finale mondale pisses on the carpet and takes over as CEO, renewing the cycle just in time for the tomshiv baby

[user1smvtysturniolo]

"Quiet" night | Chris Sturniolo

Pairing: dom!Chris x sub!Reader

Summary: you had a crush on Chris since you became friends with him in middle school. One night, of winter break. You decided to have a come over at the triplets house with some friends. This was pretty usual, because you hung out with them almost everyday. But this time, you wanted to watch a movie. Well, turned out you and Chris went out for some "fresh air" and somehow you guys ended up...

Trigger Warning: unprotected sex, praise kink, nipple playing, p in v, pet names, semi-public sex

It was a chilly winter evening when me and Nick decided to spend a cozy night in with his brothers, Chris and Matt and couple close friends. You guys settled onto the plush couch in the living room, blankets draped over our laps as Nick popped in a Christmasy movie. As the opening credits rolled, you unconsciously snuggled closer to Chris, feeling his warm body press against yours.

The first act of the film played out uneventfully, with the occasional laugh and whispered remark exchanged between me and Nick, and some other people. Matt, however, seemed to be struggling to stay awake, his head nodding forward every few minutes. Matt, after half an hour of the movie, Matt had succumbed to sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath his hoodie. We decided to pause the movie for a break, Nick and a friend went to the kitchen grabbing more snacks and the other friend went to the bathroom. While Matt went to his room to sleep.

I was left alone with Chris. Finding myself growing increasingly aroused, by having him by my side. I squeezed your thighs together, seeking some friction to alleviate the throbbing ache between your legs while thinking about an excuse to leave this uncomfortable situation. Unbeknownst to me, Chris noticed the subtle movement and the flush spreading across your cheeks. He turned to face you, a subtle smile on his face.

"Y/n, do you wanna go out and have some fresh air. I feel like you're kind of nervous." He said as he checked your face to understand your expressions. "Oh! Totally. I'll go, I-I'm okay" I said nervously avoiding his eyes, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "I will go too" he said as he put a hand on top of my shoulder trying to calm me down. I finally got courage to look up at his blue eyes and we both left the house, going to a private park near by.

We sat on a bench and he took my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. "Come on, y/n. Do you think I don't notice?" He said as he licked his lips. "W-what?" I asked way too nervous to express my feelings to him. "Do you think I don't notice this". He quickly said as he finally kissed me. I got on top of him in the bench and started kissing him back. His fingers began to wander, tracing the curves of your breasts through the thin fabric of my sweater.

"You're so cute when you get turned on," Chris murmured against my lips. His hot breath sending shivers to my spine. He tweaked and twisted your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. I bit back a moan, not wanting anyone near the park to hear us. Chris's hands grew bolder, sliding under my sweatshirt to cup my bare breasts. He kneaded them gently, rolling the sensitive peaks between his thumbs and forefingers.

My breathing quickened, and a dampness began to form between your legs. Chris seemed to sense my arousal, his touch becoming more insistent. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and tugged, urging you to stand up. With a dazed look in your eyes, you complied, letting him strip off your pants and underwear in one swift motion.

Chris laid you back down on the bench, his gaze devouring the sight of your naked body. He knelt between your spread legs, he bit his lip holding back a groan . "Damn, you're so hot," he purred, leaning in to lick a slow trail up your inner thigh.

Your hips bucked involuntarily at the contact, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Chris chuckled, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. He reached the apex of your thighs and circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, savoring your taste. Chris's ministrations soon became too much to bear, and you found yourself writhing beneath his skilled mouth. Just as you thought you couldn't take anymore, he abruptly pulled away, leaving you panting and aching for more.

Before you could protest, Chris flipped you over onto your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. He gave your ass a firm squeeze, and a few strokes to his dick. And then pressed the swollen head of his cock against your dripping entrance. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you. A loud moan tore from your throat, muffled by your hand clamped over your mouth. The sensation of being filled so completely was overwhelming, and you fought to stifle further noises that might awake the whole neighborhood around the park.

Chris's grip on your hip tightened as he began to move, his thick shaft pistoning in and out of your clenching heat. "Fuck, you're so tight" Chris groaned, his pace increasing as he drove deeper into your willing body. You could only manage to respond with low gasps and whimpers, your mind consumed by the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

Chris's praise only served to heighten your arousal. "Y'doing so well, y'moans sound so sexy. Fuck" he praised with low groans, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust. His words sparked a new wave of desire within you, and you pushed back against him, meeting his strokes with equal fervor. The sound of skin slapping against skin was loud in the silent park, mingling with your muffled moans and Chris's grunts of pleasure.

As Chris's thrusts grew more erratic, you could tell he was close to climax. "Gonna fill you up, m'love..." He warned, his voice strained with impending release. You braced yourself for the onslaught, your inner walls fluttering around his pulsing shaft. With a final, brutal thrust, Chris buried himself to the hilt and held still, his cock throbbing inside you. A guttural roar escaped his lips as he came undone, his hot seed spilling deep into your womb.

The sensation of his warmth flooding your depths triggered your own orgasm, and you cried out silently as a gush of fluid erupted from your core. The intensity of your climax caught both you and Chris by surprise, and you collapsed forward onto the bench, spent and trembling.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing. Then, Chris's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tender embrace as he peppered your neck with gentle kisses. Seconds later, I put back my panties and jeans. I sat down besides Chris in the bench, too shy to even look at him in the eyes. Chris after a few minutes finally broke the silence.

"God, so... you're really into me?" He asked as he stared into the sky while thinking about everything that happened in the last 20 minutes. I looked at him, grabbing his cheek, being centimeters away from him. "Chris, I've loved you since middle school" I bit my lip. He got closer and finally kissed me fully.

When we got back, we were holding hands and really close together. Everyone in the room turned to look at us. They knew my crush on him, and now they know we're in a relationship after all these years. "Y'all are back, we got really worried for you, guys. Didn't even pick up the phone, and now that I see you guys like this I don't even want to know what happened" Nick said jokingly as everyone chuckled at his comment.

Should I do part 2? Comment ideas down below about what the part 2 could be!!

Divider by: @bernardsbendystraws. Taglist: @ccxsturns @xoxo4chrisss @madisonb44r @courta13 @kenzieeluby @mattsfavginger @luvs4chrs

[cheriladycl01]

Crash into my life - Lance Stroll x Civil Servent! Reader

Plot: You work in a fancy government job, pretty boring 9-5 but Lance Stroll and his insurance claim makes your job that little bit better

Your job wasn’t exactly fun, wasn’t exactly boring. It was one of those jobs that you’d got it at a young age and worked your way up through the ranks as you’d got better and better and because it was safe and something you were good at you stuck with it.

To keep it short and sweet you were a civil servant. Not like 007 kind of crazy stuff but you did work for MI6 in their fraud, tax and insurance department.

You basically took over insurance claims that were over a certain threshold and had to go through the government for … whatever reason whether they are a foreign National claiming in the UK or something.

Usually it was boring matters such as Chelsea Football Club claiming compensation for things as simple as water damages etc. You didn’t even really get to see anyone, you had the data and you analysed it against the scenario and hey presto you made your pay out.

Your favourite time of the year was winter. More claims came through and life was more unpredictable thanks to the whether. Delayed train into London St Pancreas? No tubes working so you have to make the 20 minute walk to your office building from the station. Slipping on ice, it was the only excitement you got in life which was honestly kind of sad.

For you it started at as a normal Monday. You woke up at 7am, brushed your teeth, got into a nice corporate appropriate outfit, got on the train, got a coffee from Pret before heading into your building.

That was your routine, and you didn’t often differ from it unless you had holiday booked. But working a 9-5 Monday - Friday often meant that you

But it felt like there was a different buzz today around the building like there was something going on.

When you all went into the morning briefing for the cases you’d get today, everyone was way too excited for 9am and the start of the day. You sat down next to your office buddy Shiv and looked around confused.

“What in earth is going on with everyone?” You ask looking over at Shiv who’s typing away on her laptop taking in information.

“Apparently there’s some really interesting cases to work on up for grabs today” she explains and you nod knowing once every blue moon some exciting things would crop up and have the whole office acting like kids on Christmas.

You’re all still waiting for the department boss to come in, joining in conversations about what could possibly be happening today.

“Ladies and Gents please take a seat for the meeting to commence. Thank you. Thank you” he offers smiling and everyone gets comfy.

“So we’ve got some exciting stuff today. I’ve formed a team to deal with the Train Networks Claim, that’ll be Shiv, Brayden and Ravi” he says and they all nod writing in their pads what tasks they’d have to do today.

He went through all of them apart from you, before dismissing the meeting. You were slightly confused and therefore packed up yours things a little slower than everyone else to see if you could stay behind and ask why you hadn’t been given an assignment.

“Y/N could you stay behind so I can talk to you for a moment” he asks and you nod, going to the end of the long conference table where he was stood.

“I like you, you’re young and learn quickly and I want you to progress more than you already have so I’m giving you a really important case. You’ll actually get to meet the said person affected, he’s … of high value so be considerate of your wording when talking to him. Alright thank you, here’s the case! Have a report to me by Friday” he offers and you nod happily. You take a seat opening up the material seeing the name of the claimer immediately.

Lance Stroll

You read through the facts, apparently he crashed his Aston Martin driving down the M1 to get to Silverstone into some sort of government van.

After analysing some of the data yourself, a knock comes on your office door from one of the younger interns.

“Erm, Y/N there’s two men in suits here to see you?” She asks rather than tells you, it wasn’t common for people to come in and out of the building due to the confidentiality of the work conducted here.

“Send them in please, but before you do ask them if they want anything. Tea, Coffee, Water” you smile and go back to reading another report from a police officer who was on the scene of the accident.

You watch as two men walk into your office space. One looking younger maybe the same age as you and one looking significantly older which you assumed was the dad.

“Good morning” you smile lightly before going back to some data on your computer. They took a seat, patiently waiting for you to address them.

Lawrence, who you’d just read about in the report who was indeed the father, cleared his throat as if to get your attention.

“Give me one minute Mr Stroll and I’ll be right with you” you smile, still nose in your computer.

“We’ve come all this way to the city centre to see you it would be appreciated if you didn’t waste our time” he huffs and even just from this reaction a bubbling of excitement started in you, just at the promise of actually seeing a client and talking to them in the flesh.

“I understand that, but I won’t be able to tell you much unless I see all the data” you say looking up at them through your glasses. This time you notice Lance and how he’s just sort of staring at you.

“Can I help you Mr Stroll?” You ask looking over him.

“No, I’m all good. Take your time” he smiles and you nod. In 5 minutes you believe you’ve combed through enough data to talk to them.

“This is awfully interesting I almost never get to see the people behind the claim” you smile happily and they both nod.

“Okay so so far from what I can see is there was a crash in your vintage Aston Martin that was for an event at Silverstone, the race track and that you got into a collision with a government van trailing a foreign national?” You ask.

“In short terms, yes … but” Lawrence tries to declare.

“And you weren’t present Mr Stroll” you say looking in the direction of the older man.

“No I wasn’t” he huffs out.

“Okay, then I will ask you to just step out my office while I get an account of the events from your son, if that’s alright with you. Just down the corridor there’s a waiting room there, help yourself to the food and drink in there” you smile hoping to butter him up a little to get him out.

“Alright” he says before taking his leave.

“Okay Mr Stroll lets…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Lance, please just call me Lance” he offers and you nod.

“Well Lance, it’s not … looking great” you start of slowly and he looks at you shocked.

“What do you mean? Your guys went into me?” He says raising his voice slightly and you give him a stern look that has him sinking into his seat.

“Don’t come into my office and raise your voice when I’m doing my best to help you!” You exclaim placing a pad in front of him.

“Sorry it’s just that my dad isn’t happy already that i totalled a car that was needed for race day” he sighs rubbing his temples.

“Ahhh so you’re an F1 driver. Or is it NASCAR because of the accent?” You ask and he looks shocked as if you were supposed to know who he was.

“Er F1” he offers and you nod.

“You any good?” You ask writing done some more notes as you watch the camera on the government vehicle as Lance’s car didn’t have one.

“Excuse me?” He chokes out and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Well I mean im currently looking at your claims for a super car that you totalled and so I can’t help but ask if your any good” you tease and once he heard the tone he gets it and just rolls his eyes.

“Oh haha laugh it up” he says and you do.

“Im sorry but this is quite possibly the most fun I’ve ever had in this job. It’s rather boring most days so I’m just making the most of it” you smile and he smiles back.

“Okay I can see that they did in fact turn into you. And of course I’m here for the people. The issue is where your Canadian. I can pay out what the car was worth when you originally brought it, but 50,000 for the fact that it was an accident on our part” you say and he thinks for a moment.

“No” is all he says and you look over at him in shock.

“Sorry? What do you mean no, no is my final decision” you say crossing your arms.

“I would like to add something else to the 50,000 on top of the car value” he smiles and you nod, wondering what it could possibly be and admiring the boldness of his statement.

“Id like to take you out to dinner” he smirks and your head shoots up from your laptop.

“I- i cant do that… it’s not professional. I could get told off. I could loose my job.” you admit knowing that if people were to find out about your payout and think it was bad then they’d be asking questions to you.

“Oh come on it’s just dinner to say thank you for being so … helpful” he smiles leaning forward in his seat and you shake your head.

“Fine, dinner it is” you smile.

That was the start of something way bigger than just dinner.

y/user

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y/user: Work has been rather interesting lately 👀🏎️

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lance_stroll: thank you for having another look for me 👍🏼

-> y/user: 🫣you’re welcome Mr Stroll

-> lance_stroll: you’re making me feel old ☹️

user: is that whose car I think it is bestie?

-> y/user: it sure is 🏎️

user: need to catch up soon babe, Pret tomorrow morning?

-> y/user: sure thing!

user: Civil Service < Serving Cu*t 🥰

Instagram Story Caption:

Back in the Office wiv Shiv 🌸

Taglist:

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[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Tough on Cosmic Horror

Laird Barron: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the story of eldritch forces beyond mortal ken Lovecraft: oh this is my favorite kind of story! Barron: of course the protagonist is a big tough manly man's man Lovecraft: what

Barron: this guy is a real rough and tumble fella Barron: loves beer and broads and bowling Barron: shoots guns Barron: drives a real cool car real fast Barron: was one of teddy Roosevelt's rough riders

Barron: this guy is a real macho dude Barron: this guy eats lightning and shits testosterone Lovecraft: i can't relate to any of this

Barron: and his name is Ramsey Graham Tananarive Moreno-Garcia Barron: Oates Hendrix Vandermeer Blatty uh Barron: Bloch

Barron: he's out doing manly things with his friend Bram Broadus Matheson "R.L." Keene Lansdale Barron: and his other friend Koji Carlton Saul Machen SanGiovanni McCammon Koontz Koontz: hey! my name's Koontz too! Barron: that's not a coincidence, boy Koontz: whooooaaa! Lovecraft: um excuse me? Lovecraft: Laird? Lovecraft: i believe you misspoke? Lovecraft: when you said buff man's man Lovecraft: surely you meant to say reedy academic? Barron: no Barron: no i did not

Barron: look, i think we can all agree Barron: the nerds have run cosmic horror for too long Barron: so i say Barron: [tearing shirt to reveal a second shirt with a NO SMOKING sign over a nerd]

Barron: no nerds! Lovecraft: b-but Lovecraft: you can't have cosmic horror without reedy academics who faint constantly! Mary Shelley: now this guy Shelley: this guy, i like!

Barron: and guess what else? Barron: this guy wrestles gorillas... and wins! King: and wins?!? King: wow! this guy sounds super tough! Poe: that is pretty tough King: boy! i'll bet if anyone is able to stare into the cosmic void and NOT go insane, it would be this guy! King: i would bet money on that! Barron: well, i got some bad news for you steve

Barron: this guy might seems pretty tough Barron: but even this super tough guy can't look into the cosmic void and come away unscathed King: whoa! Mary Shelley: ok back up there laird Shelley: exactly HOW tough is this guy? Shelley: cuz i think i could do it

Barron: actually, mary, it turns out that no amount of toughness can prepare you for the cosmic void Barron: not even Ramsey Graham Tananarive Moreno-Garcia Oates Hendrix Vandermeer Blatty Bloch could do it Shelley: Rip to that guy but i'm different

Shelley: now if some cosmic void tried to make me go insane Shelley: [brandishing shiv] i'd just stab it Shelley: right in its unknowable mystery!

Barron: sorry, mary, but no knife can save you from the cosmic void Shelley: my knife's different Barron: Barron: what's different about it Shelley: its owner Shelley: that means ME Barron: Shelley: bam! right in the unknowable mystery!

Lovecraft: laird's right! it's not about stabbing! Lovecraft: it's about mental fortitude! Lovecraft: the mental fortitude only possessed by reedy academics of an Anglo-Saxon persuasion! Shelley: ugh we're back to this nerd shit

Koontz: what about William hope Hodgson? he's REALLY tough! Koontz: he's like the toughest guy we know! Barron: William hope Hodgson? Hodgson: [swallowing 4 dozen eggs] you say my name, pipsqueak?

Koontz: there's no one as burly or brawny! William Hope Hodgson: as you see, I've got biceps to spare! Koontz: not an inch of him's scraggly or scrawny! Hodgson: and every last inch of me's covered in HAIR!

[spxllcxstxr]

Shitshow at the Soulmate Factory • R.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: Please I'm begging on hands and knees, I'll take any Roman or Tom fic. Anything. I would do desperate things for it. Kisses xxx! I honestly love the countdown soulmate au, just running into each other unexpectedly is a really adorable thing for me. Maybe they are late from somewhere and they run into reader, could be whatever. You can also ignore it. If I may I would like she/her reader, but I'm fine with gender neutral reader also. — anon

Summary: In less than twenty-four hours you’ll meet your soulmate. Your friend drags you to some weird underground private party

Warnings: soulmate AU, logan roy mention (also quick mention of abuse), mention of drugs and alcohol and all that shit, not a lot of dialogue I’m sorry lmao, 9/11 mention? (iykyk)

Word Count: 1.5k

A.N: first Roman fic!!! This was actually going to be a blurb and then I kept fucking writing. I hope his characterization is ok, if you have any tips don’t be afraid to let me know!! Hope you all enjoy!

•

Roman had never cared for the timer on the inside of his elbow. The black bold numbers inked permanently into his flesh. It was always hidden away underneath expensive suit shirts and well-tailored business jackets. It was a ticking time bomb; never to be acknowledged until it finally blew him to bits.

Or, in this case, meet his soulmate (though to him, that was one and the same).

It's not like he wasn't curious about who some higher power judged to be his soulmate--because he was. It was, however, more of a morbid curiosity. He was Roman Roy for fuck's sake, no one should be tied to him.

His father never talked about his own timer, the one time he ever asked about it he got backhanded so hard he face planted onto the tiled floor beneath his feet. That was that. He laughed it off afterwards, when Ken was placing ice against his bruised cheek. He really should've known.

Kendall had spent months convincing Rome and his other siblings that his timer went off when he first met Rava in college, though they got divorced so he highly doubted that was the case. And if it was? Well shit. That didn't bode well for the rest of them.

Shiv's situation confirmed that he was doomed. Despite Roman being in charge of her soon-to-be husband's bachelor party, his sister once drunkenly confided in him that her timer had went off years before she even heard the name Tom Wambsgans. The next morning, when she called him with a splitting headache, she said she couldn't remember anything she told him the night before. She was fucked too.

Connor was Connor and Roman was sure he had ranted about his at one point, but whatever goes in one ear goes out the other with him.

So when Roman glances at his timer in the mirror it feels like a cooler full of ice water just got dumped on him. His body is frozen but his skin crawls with anxiety. Today was the day. In less than twenty-four hours he was to meet the person he was destined to be with.

What a sick cosmic joke.

He bites his nails and paces the length of his kitchen as he waits for his driver to get to his apartment. By the time he's seated in the back of the car with the smell of worn leather overwhelming his senses the thought is pushed so far back in his mind that he barely remembers why his fingers are absentmindedly stroking the inside of his elbow.

You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.

The timer on your wrist was frequently the topic of discussion both with your friends and in your personal journal. It had always been exciting, the guaranteed notion that you were going to meet the love of your life.

Your friends had married their soulmates which had made you believe even more in the timer. The people around you were happy with what the universe had promised and you just wanted that to be you already. You were content waiting but that never stopped you from watching the numbers tick down whenever you could spare a glance.

The childish romanticism of the timer never faded throughout your life.

It kept you going--you woke up in the morning because you needed to know what, or, rather who, the universe had in store for you.

You were jittery in the morning. Not just because your friend was forcing you to join her and a couple others at some underground private club, but also because your timer had indicated that today, of all days, you were going to meet your soulmate. Every inch of you buzzed with excitement.

Toying with your bottom lip you wait for your friend to pick you up. This party would be it, you determined.

It was going to be a dream come true.

The club sucks.

They had taken your phone at the door, the music is way too loud, and your drink tastes sour when it should be sweet. Not to mention the amount of people having sex in every corner of almost every room.

Your friends ditched you about an hour ago and your timer still has an hour left.

Taking a sip of your drink your face scrunches in disgust. Your eyes focus on the drinks behind the bar, the colorful glasses occupying your vision so you don’t accidentally make eye contact with the drugged up people around you. The pungent smell of weed surrounds you.

You sit and watch the bartenders dart across the space behind the bar, mixing and pouring drinks expertly. Men and women approach you occasionally, but you’re not interested in conversation if your timer doesn’t go off.

You wish you had Twitter to at least occupy your mind.

“Hey, I’m Connor.”

You turn to face the man to your right, his grey hair and piercing blue eyes are nice, but your timer doesn’t go off so what’s the point?

“Not interested.” Taking a quick sip of your drink you turn away from the man.

“Oh come on, I just want to chat,” He sits next to you, nursing his own drink. He smells of alcohol and expensive cologne. “Say, where were you on 9/11?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock, eyeing the man trying to find any hint of a joke. He looks completely serious.

“Where was I on 9/11?”

“Yeah, I mean, I gotta make sure…y’know what I mean?” He shrugs at you, still waiting for your answer.

Subtly you glance down at your wrist, the numbers now under a minute. Slowly you smile, nerves washing over your entire being.

You get up from the bar stool, drink in hand. “Try that on another girl, I’m sure it’ll work next time.”

Passing by people you attempt to get out of the stuffy room when someone knocks into your shoulder. It’s not hard, but it certainly warranted some kind of apology.

You turn around only to see the other person doing the same.

Your breath hitches when you hear the noise—it’s crystal clear and high pitched, like a bell. Eyes widening you stare at the stranger in shock.

“Oh fuck.” His brown eyes widen at the noise, the realization washing over him. “Shit so you’re—you’re my…?” With one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair he looks you up and down.

“You’re my soulmate…” You say, just above the music. The air feels as if it’s been punched out of your lungs.

The man’s eyes can’t seem to stay still.

Your own eyes run over his handsome figure. His clothes imply at least a decent amount of money—his white dress shirt crisp and recently pressed. The sleeves, however, are rolled up to his elbow exposing his forearms. Your face heats up at this; the casual gesture being a lot more attractive than it should be.

Swallowing down the thoughts and the bubbling nerves you extend your hand.

“(Y/n) (L/n).” You smile, hoping to ease the tension.

“Oh uh, yeah—yes.” He stutters, hand taking your own. His palms are a bit sweaty but he has a nice firm grip. “Roman Roy.”

Roy—well that explains a lot. So far the universe has got good taste.

Your hand tingles as you pull it back to your side. Biting your lip you take him in again, how he flexes his jaw and drums his fingers against his hip bone. The music pumping throughout the room becomes muffled as you focus solely on Roman Roy.

It seems he has a difficult time tearing his eyes away from your own, but eventually he’s successful at examining the expensive watch on his wrist.

“Oh shit fucking damnit…” He mutters, brows furrowing momentarily before softening when his gaze lands back on you. “I gotta go, I have this stupid fucking meeting…” Apologetically he steps closer to you. You deflate a bit at this. “It’s just big company stuff, I’m sorry. Can I uh…can I get your number though?”

Smirking at the question, you nod. Excitement courses through your veins again. “Do you have a pen?”

“A pen? What is it 1999?”

“They took my phone at the door, dumbass, I assume they took yours too.” You snort teasingly.

“Shit.” He pats his body, searching for anything in his pocket. He’s quite quick about it and eventually he finds a shitty black pen with barely any ink in it.

Giggling you write your number down on his forearm before handing the pen back to him.

“You better call me, Roman Roy. I know where you work.” You wink, toying with your bottom lip again.

He flushes at that, cheeks turning pink as his eyes settle on your lips.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna call you.” Clumsily he winks back before turning around and getting caught in the crowd, heading to whatever meeting he had.

Setting down your drink on the nearest table you head the opposite direction, towards the exit, cheeks aching from the satisfied smile on your face.

•

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

141 & Rabbit Headcanons [IKYLHT]

Series Masterlist | Prev: Personnel Files | Next: Chapter One

Please Note: This is my attempt at a spoiler-free introduction to the characters and their dynamics. This is meant to be read before the first chapter, and thus must be vague at points. THIS DOES CONTAIN SOME MW3 SPOILERS

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141 + Rabbit Dynamics:

Soap:

Rabbit's ride or die right here, twin flame type of energy

First person she actually enjoyed the company of at the UK base while on assignment alongside the rest of the Demon Dogs

Subsequently the first to worm his way into her heart- sinks his hooks into her side and refuses to leave (not to worry, you'd have to pry her off of him, anyways)

Runs into her coming out of the mess hall, sees 'Highwater' stitched into her uniform and realizes this was the soldier Sparks had told him about

Oh yeah, that month long prank war with Shane 'Shitbag' Sparks (yes, she'd come up with that one herself) that the rest of the Demon Dogs decided to join in on? He made sure to tell Soap, because why not recruit the demolitions expert in his task of torturing his sister-in-arms?

Soap immediately decides on implementing her rename. 'Oh, you already have a callsign that half the base refers to you by? One that acknowledges your military expertise and the nine grueling years you've dedicated to the service? That's weird, cuz your name is Rabbit now and that's that' type mentality

She knew the reference immediately, hands twitching with the urge to unsheathe her spare knife because there was only one person that'd broadcast the story

Goddammit, Sparks, I will shiv you

"Excuse me? Where'd you hear that from, Sergeant?"

"A good friend never tells. I could always think of calling you somethin' worse?"

"Call me something worse and I'll have you written up for disrespecting a superior officer"

"Understood, Rabbit" said with a fucking grin

Despite being the one to rename her, literally never uses her callsign once he declares them best friends

Calls her Bunny or Bun, which surprisingly did help his efforts in gaining her [platonic] love and affection

Spent damn near every waking moment with her, which unsurprisingly did help his efforts in gaining her [romantic] love and affection

Sparring? Let me wrap your hands

Going out? Here, I'll zip your coat

Smoking? C'mon Bun, tell me what's bothering you, I can help

It was the little, everyday acts of love kindness from Soap that had her hooked on the feeling of being in his presence

So you can imagine how devastating it'd felt for the both of them when the special unit had been called back to the states

Even with promises to call and text and facetime, the feeling of his heart sinking to his stomach made him realize there were feelings he harbored towards Rabbit that went beyond the typical bond between soldiers

But orders are orders, and he'd been sure to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek before ushering her up the ramp and onto the heli waiting to rip her away from him

Not that either admitted it to the other at the time, but they'd both been teased to no end about their 'special friendship' by the rest of their units, cheeks warming yet refusing to deny the accusations

Like true friends, though, they did kept their promise

If it wasn't hours of texting it was calls, only skipping days when on mission but always sure to inform the other of their departure beforehand

It was hard most days. Seeing the other come back from days or even weeks of no-contact with new cuts and bruises

It was especially hard, though, after Verdansk

Soap had beaten himself up pretty hard after the whole ordeal with Makarov- the guilt of not being able to save those people in the airport, the shame of losing his cool in front of his superiors, the regret of not just avenging those people by shooting the man and facing the consequences later- he'd talked through his entire range of emotions with her despite the distance

Then, because the universe always yearned for cruelty, she got the assignment

Covert operation

Ciudad Victoria

Two days, wheels up at 0400

Now her home base had been Pendleton since basic, and if there's one thing the San Diego base requires, it's soldiers willing to cross the border and sweat their asses off for hours on end scouting some target for shit pay and no reward

She'd done it before, six months turned into twelve turned into eighteen until eventually she'd been volunteering to go, years under her belt and quickly moving up the ranks, Mexico now a second home in her mind. Anything to get away from that place

But Victoria? That was a city she'd only seen on mission reports, only heard of by way of interrogation

But orders are orders, and he'd been sure to tell her he'd miss her before ushering her to dump her phone in her locker and get onto the heli waiting to rip her away from him again

Soap didn't get a call for quite a while after that

His first contact, actually, hadn't even been Rabbit

It was Sparks

Locker pried open with permission from Griggs (not that he waited even a second to be granted it), he'd charged her phone and called the one person he thought deserved to know

"MacTavish? It's Sparks. Highwater, she's... she's MIA. Entire task force was found slaughtered. An ambush, I think. We don't- we're not entirely sure yet. Griggs can't get a straight answer. The whole things fucked, we can't- the area's got it's own governing body. They haven't... they've searched but they haven't found a body. We're not calling it until they do. I'm sorry, kid."

Two months

Two months Soap cried until his lungs spasmed

Two months Soap cried until his head ached and eyes burned

Two months Soap cried to his mother about the woman he loved

Two months until he got the call that damn near restarted his heart

"Soap? Soap, we found her. We have her, she's being taken to medical. We found her, kid."

Johnny's not sure he remembers a time he'd cried harder. He'd like to say it was when Sparks had first called him, but even then, he held onto some hope she'd made it out 'like you always do'

That'd been their promise to each other, and he vividly recalls telling Price that as he sobbed over the man's shoulder in relief

She'd been put on medical leave, forced to wave goodbye to her family as they flew off to Urzikstan without her

It was at that point- hearing her cry over the phone about how useless she'd felt being left behind, how she'd failed the only family that had ever truly cared about her- that he realized a trip to the states was in dire need

Entered the U.S. friends, exited the U.S. partners

Johnny's a man that focuses on the positives

He doesn't talk about those two months. Not to his therapist, not to his ma, not to Price

He focuses on the fact that his torment is over, he focuses on the woman laying her head on his shoulder and tapping her boot against his on the shaky helicarrier

Because that's all that matters to him. The little moments between missions where they can focus on something other than saving the world for a moment

It's a type of love, a type of dynamic the man had never experienced before

'Intimate' is the best word to describe it

Will 'accidentally' detonate an old grenade taken into the training grounds to 'see if it still worked', just to see the other's eyes light up in a sort of pyromaniac excitement

Will also take up an entire couch quietly lounging, arms wrapped around each other under a shared blanket because 'it's a low energy type of day'

It's all or nothing- completely feral, unhinged 'I'll request the jailcell across from you' behavior or soft, domestic bliss

No words need be exchanged for that energy to shift- just a subtle glance and soft smile, a type of telepathy easily mastered after four years of being together

And Johnny wouldn't have it any other way

Ghost:

Initially doesn't even want to address her by Rabbit

He couldn't take the callsign seriously, especially after realizing this was the woman Soap had been babbling about in Verdansk

He knew more about her personal life than he did her military career, and he'd read her file back to front twice. Well, what hadn't been redacted, anyways

Decides he'll stick to Gun, as requested, but only when necessary. Better than Rabbit, at least

But after Soap's little confession while her comms are down in Las Almas? Now Gun just won't do. Decides to stick with Darling until he's figured out a better one. Knows she won't mind, anyways

Calls her Lovie a small handful of times, blink and you'll miss it, and it's only in a NSFW context ;) soft!dom Ghost supremacy

Settles on Tapeti once the dust settles and he knows he's wormed his way into her heart the same way Soap had

They're close in a way he can't say about anyone else

Does he love his team? Of course

Would he lay his life down for any one of them the second the opportunity presented itself? Also yes

But there's something about shared trauma that bonds the soul

Neither talk about it much

It's honestly easier to use Soap as the go-between on a lot of things

She's already told him, already bared her soul for him to see in that deserted apartment, and Simon's grateful Johnny omits certain heart wrenching details when he runs his hands over her scarred back, runs his hands over the raised tattoos that cover the remnants of Victoria

He doesn't yearn to know the specifics, most days he's not sure he wants to know at all

He'd made peace with his demons a long time ago, had to in order to survive, but he knew it wouldn't be so easy forgiving what'd been done to her

It wasn't hard to infer, anyway

They have a calendar, a pocket sized one with a little magnet attached that hangs on their fridge

It was Ghost's idea, after one of those days when the shakes were debilitating and she couldn't keep her food down

He'd set the container of soup from the deli across their flat on the counter, pulling Soap away from her curled up side and showing him the dollar store purchase

He didn't explain, just scribbled out a few dates and passed the calendar over

So Johnny took the pen and started scratching out days

He didn't explain all of them, only murmured the easy ones like 'her mother's birthday' or 'her comrades death date' or 'Victoria'

There's a deeper understanding there, between the three of them, and if there's one thing Simon can attest to while stomping out the butt of his cigarette onto Grave's false tombstone, it's his appreciation for the man's betrayal in Las Almas that lead him into the couple's outstretched arms

Gaz:

Best boy, here

The baby of the group, a few years younger than Rabbit who shares a birthyear with Soap

Uses that to his advantage

Calls her Officer Hopps on more than one occasion, not afraid to more commonly shorten it down to just 'Hopps'

Always in a playful loving manner, not that it matters when Rabbit's glare quickly follows

Also thinks it's funny to call her 'Gunnery Hopps' when in the presence of other soldiers, tries to play it off as a genuine tongue slip despite his wide grin proving otherwise

Again, uses his baby privilege to his advantage, whipping out the puppy eyes and small kisses that has Rabbit's glare melting into a soft smile

Typically sticks with Love- partially because he's a true Birmingham boy and the term of endearment comes naturally to him- mainly because it keeps her wound around his finger

Starts a fight by betting Price 20 quid he could cut a chunk out of Soap's mohawk? He's running to hide behind her, basking in her warmth and sticking a tongue out at Johnny over her shoulder

Smug as all hell, knows he's been deemed the favorite and is sure to remind the other men of it constantly

He'll tell them it's 'just because she loves me more, mate' but they all know the real reason

It's his calm, level-headed personality and natural ability to lead that endears him to her so easily

She never questions his judgement because what he lacks in years he makes up for in everything else by tenfold

And he looks up to Rabbit immensely- he may not initially know the finer details of her military experience, just general war stories Sparks and the rest of the Demon Dogs had told him in Urzikstan when she'd been out on medical leave, but he does know what being a 0251 MOS entails, knows he'll never come across a better Gunnery Sergeant even if he retires at 80

Aims to become a GySgt after seeing her serve as their unit's operations chief, working with superior officers on training, operations, and tactical advising

Asks a million questions and- though he'd never admit it- keeps a log of their answers in his notes app. He's just organized like that

She noticed anyways, what with his trusting nature and big heart (he gladly passed over his phone passcode within the first week of them being official), and it was actually that notes app list of all the little throw away tidbits about her role on the team that led her to write his letter of recommendation

That’s just the dynamic they have, they bring out the best in each other in every way, even when they don’t think it’s possible given the circumstances

He's only two years younger, and yet he feels so lacking in experience when they're thrown into red-stained chairs with threadbare bags over their heads

"You been tortured before, Gaz?"

"No."

"That's good. Let's keep it that way. Stay quiet and keep your eyes forward."

He remembers blanching at her nonchalant tone, the way she talked as if she'd done this a hundred times before.

She has, he realizes, and he feels a sort of naive embarrassment wash over him when he really thinks about it

Interrogation and Debrief Specialist, he thought, you don't earn that title by just sitting and reading about it

He didn't have much time to sit and process that thought before the men were reentering the dark room

He's unable to fathom how she'd kept her breathing so calm, refrained from letting out a single yell or grunt or sniffle until the men had slammed the metal door on their exit

It was hard for him, returning to base after what had transpired

It didn't sit right with him- the fact that he'd allowed himself to sit there and let the woman he'd been falling in love with be beaten within an inch of her life

But she'd comforted him, face swollen and leg wrapped, knocking her boot into his with a smile

He'd knocked his boot back into hers, and decided from there on out she'd know exactly how much she meant to him

Price:

The only member of the 141 to actually refer to her by her callsign. Captain's professionalism and all that.

Throws it out the window the second he deems necessary- which is quite often- resorts to Sweetheart

He knows more about her than anyone else, Johnny the only exception, and that isn't something he takes lightly

He'd read the reports. The redacted ones. He knew what happened after Victoria, he'd been the one to okay her transfer, to accept doing a favor for the Demon Dogs after their good work in Urzikstan and promising he'd 'keep an eye on her'

He understands the vulnerability in that fact, and is sure to do everything in his power to prove to her he's someone she can trust, even after she's told him time and time again he's done more than enough to prove his loyalty

Fortunately, years of hearing about each other via Soap and the Demon Dogs proved useful once they'd finally met at the top of that wall guarding Alejandro's base, easily falling into a sort of mutual understanding of each other

It helped that he was a natural patriarch, the glue holding the team together, ensuring they worked as a well oiled machine both on and off base

Soap vouched for Price and that was all the convincing Rabbit needed. So when Price vouched for Ghost and Gaz? It felt instinctual to trust the men wholeheartedly

Scary as it was initially, Price just knew. Simple as that, he knew what the team needed and exactly how to go about it, and she trusted that

He was arguably the most experienced in navigating trauma, and that definitely lent a hand to the comfortability of the team

He’s perfected the art of understanding each of the members of the task force and it’s something Rabbit didn’t realize she yearned for until she had it

He’s become the physical embodiment of her safe space in a way she never thought was possible. She breathes easier when he’s in eyesight, the tension drops from her shoulders when he’s near

Despite being one who only rarely accepted physical affection from anyone other than Soap, Rabbit named Price 'Seat of the Year', and that's meant quite literally

Cuddles are mandatory team bonding. He doesn't make the rules (yes he does)

Arguably the most giving partner on the face of the planet

Is happy to lean back in his chair and cut off the blood supply to his legs if it means Rabbit is soothed by the way his hands run over her arms and scratch at her scalp, perched on his lap and quickly drifting off to sleep as he presses light kisses onto the junction between her neck and shoulder

His brain is constantly alerting his body of his need to protect and provide. It'd still happen even if he'd never approved her transfer, that's just the kind of man he is, but he wouldn't have been nearly as emboldened without her there

Gaz yawns in the midst of completing a mission report? He's already tossing the man over his shoulder and forcing him to rest for once

Soap lets out the quietest sigh of pain when that one muscle in his shoulder starts twinging again? He's already pushing the man to sit and rounding the couch to dig his strong hands into the stubborn muscle

Ghost's stomach lets out singular growl? Guess that stack of paperwork can be finished tomorrow, it's now his personal mission to ensure the man has eaten a nutritious meal that checks off every micro and macro nutrient possibly needed to ensure health and prosperity in that beefy body

Perfectly content to love and love and love for absolutely nothing in return besides seeing his team happy and healthy

Unbeknownst to him, he very quickly charms his way into her heart with his thick thighs caring nature, dilf energy warm smiles, and ofc the boonie hat

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General Character Headcanons:

Rabbit:

-As mentioned in the Personnel Files, Rabbit is a Gunnery Sergeant and a 0251 MOS [Interrogator/Debrief Specialist]

-Gunnery Sergeant is her rank- serving as her unit's operations chief, working with superior officers on training, operations, and tactical advising

-0251 is her job code [MOS]. 0251 specifically means being an Interrogator/Debriefer in the US Marine Corps. This job involves collecting information/intelligence from human sources by means of interrogation, debriefing, and screening. Typical duties are the screening and interrogation of enemy POWs, line crossers, refugees, and other displaced persons, exploiting foreign language documents, and participating in noncombatant evacuation operations

-A common requirement for this job is being at the very least bilingual, and it's canon here that Rabbit speaks Spanish alongside English. With that said, many apologies to those reading this that speak Spanish because I'm using translation websites (yes I disappoint my Mexican grandparents every day)

-Rabbit is a Demon Dog, but was not in Urzikstan due to medical leave. She has direct permission from the US Marine Corps, SAS, and Price to be stationed in the UK base 'on loan' as a Demon Dog since they are part of the Coalition, led by the CIA's best Station Chief Kate Laswell :D

-Again, as shown in the Personnel Files, Rabbit does not have many character descriptors listed. I'm trying my best to make her as inclusive as I possibly can while still flushing out her character. I don't like the self-insert '[h/c] [e/c]' format, so I just avoid it all together

-Rabbit is an only child

-Also it's not really about Rabbit per say but in my story Griggs is a Captain. He leads the Demon Dogs and therefore holds a higher rank that Rabbit. It makes sense to me in this story that he'd be of similar age and rank as Price

Soap:

-I’ve seen a few people say based on his accent Soap is likely from Glasgow but unfortunately I’ve only been to Edinburgh so we’re using our creative liberty here and saying that's where he's from plz and thank u <3

-Johnny is the baby of the family with 3 older sisters. His poor mother was pregnant for damn near four years straight

-He's close with his entire family, but especially his mother and youngest sister

-Also I'm not killing him in this story. I wrote a good portion of it pre-MW3 and that campaign sucked so I'm ignoring it :)

Ghost:

-Simon is from Manchester. Yeah yeah yeah ik there’s a whole thing ab his accent and yada ya but my first London pub-watch rugby game was Leeds vs Wigan, so we’re sticking with canon here

-Wigan is in Greater Manchester so I like the headcanon that Ghost’s father was a ManUnited football fan so teen!Simon said ‘oh fuck that’ and instead chose to take the 45 minute train to go watch rugby in another city

-I'm basing a lot of his character off of both the comics and game, however there is one thing to note. In the comics, 'Sparks' is one of the soldiers that assists in getting Simon's family killed. This is not the same Sparks I refer to in this story. Shane Sparks is a Demon Dog, and I'm writing in his character for specific plot devices. He'll likely be completely OC since I just grabbed his basic profile off the character wiki.

Gaz:

-Haven’t heard any confirmation on where Gaz is from but my love Elliot Knight is from Birmingham so ding ding ding, we have a winner

-Only child, the absolute pride and joy of his parent's life. He's a total mama's boy and it was largely her good morals and outlook on life that steered him in the direction of wanting to better the world

Price:

-Liverpool. Again, I’m not sure if there’s confirmation as to where Price is from but my love ( yes I can have two >:| ) Barry Sloane is from Livahpewl soooooo

-Semi-sad headcanon for Price here. Idk why but I feel a strong pull to the idea that his parents have passed, despite him only being 36 in my story, putting them somewhere in their 60's

-On a happier note, I also like the idea that John is an older brother, so we're going with that

-

<3

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XXIII)

Breaking spirits

Read part one // Masterpost // Continued from here

This part is dedicated to @dutifullykrispyland and that one choking anon who i thought of when writing the end of Ambrose’s scene :)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Jude smiled a toothy grin, his mouth wide like a shark’s, as he observed Ambrose with smiling eyes. “So you want to know about Supervillain, huh? Why?”

“I want to get in contact, shake his hand.”

Jude’s eyes flashed. “A fanboy are you?”

Ambrose smiled coldly, one hand on the barrel like table, pinky finger drumming a beat. “Something like that.”

“Mmmm, interesting. You want to join his squad, or are you just a groupie?”

“Supervillain has a squad?”

A flash of canines. Jude sat back in the booth, one hand on his chin in a mock contemplative expression. “Hmm. You’re not a groupie then, are you, stranger? You seem more like a fisherman to me.”

Ambrose clenched his teeth. This guy was getting on his last nerve and he’d like nothing more than to just shiv him with a broken bottle, or anything else sharp he could find. But then Max would kill him. But it would be worth it to see this bastard bleeding out under him.

“A fisherman?” Ambrose asked, voice deadpan. He shrugged, an irritated thing. “What does that mean?”

“You’re fishing for information,” Jude replied.

“Yeah, no shit. I’m starting to think that maybe you don’t even know Supervillain and just say you do so you have someone to talk to.” Ambrose said, getting to his feet and grabbing his jacket.

Only when he turned his back did he hear Jude say: “wait!”

Ambrose stopped, glancing back over his shoulder to the smiling idiot. Though he may as well have been looking at another man. Jude’s expression shifted in the flash of Ambrose’s disinterest, from a playful, smiling jackass to something completely different. Closer to Ambrose, or Kit, though colder than Kit was.

Serious, Ambrose realised, and he fought back a smile. Finally.

“Fine. We can be boring and talk business.” Jude conceded, gesturing for Ambrose to take a seat again. Ambrose did and the girl emerged from the shadows again with a tray of something Ambrose probably shouldn’t drink. The girl placed the bottle on the barrel, and two glasses onto the coasters already on the table.

Ambrose kept his black eyes trained on the girl as she blows a bubble of chewing gum and pops it before melting into the shadows again.

Was she watching them from now on, then? Two on one? Best to proceed as if they are, and if there’s two, why not twelve, especially if you’re Supervillain. Always good to have friends.

Jude poured Ambrose a glass and then himself, three fingers of bourbon each. A heavy pour. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to get me drunk.”

“Afraid of a little libation?”

Ambrose lifted his glass, meeting Jude’s light eyes over the rim. “You look like a bottom, so I’m down to clown.”

Jude’s eyes drank in Ambrose as he took a hefty sip of the bourbon, Ambrose’s black eyes never leaving Jude’s. He really fucking hoped that his wasn’t poisoned or spiked, because he would never live that down if anyone found out.

Ambrose lowered his glass with a smack of his lips. “That’s good,” he said, feeling the grooves of the cut glass, the same glasses Max used in his bar so at least they were consistent. Ambrose appreciated the attention to detail. “It has some bite to it. Now.” Ambrose said, clasping his hands together on the barrel, black eyes catching Jude’s again. “Supervillain. Talk.”

Jude’s gaze fell to the glass and lazily trailed back up to Ambrose’s face, a slow, lazy smirk crawling it’s way onto his handsome face like the Cheshire Cat who knew something Alice didn’t.

“I could have poisoned that for all you know,” Jude said.

Ambrose shrugged. “What’s for me won’t pass me by, but I do have another stop after this exchange, so if you don’t mind talking. I’m a busy man.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. I don’t even know your name.”

“Ambrose,” Ambrose said flatly, eyes going to the bottle of bourbon. It really was a nice bourbon, and Ambrose didn’t usually drink it, so he grabbed the bottle in his hand, letting his eyes scan over the label.

“That’s all I get?”

“That’s all you get. Now. Jude, Supervillain. Do you know him or not?”

Jude scoffed out a laugh. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Ambrose, aren’t you?”

“You’re not the first person to accuse me of that.”

“You’re used to getting what you want.”

Ambrose shrugged. “Something like that. Are you going to talk, or can I go?”

Jude tsked, glancing to his right. Ambrose followed his line of sight to another table that was filled with more reserved patrons. Though, Ambrose suspected, Jude was probably looking into the darkness for the girl rather than at the other guests.

Jude grabbed his glass and threw back the liquid in one gulp, slamming the glass onto the table and exhaling with a sharp hiss. Ambrose grinned at him. Jude nodded at Ambrose. “Finish your drink.”

Ambrose obliged happily, and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth after. Jude filled the glasses again. “Why’re you looking for Supervillain?”

Ambrose stared at Jude, tilting his head slightly. Somehow, Jude had grown more serious in the time that Ambrose felt himself loosen up. “I want to help him destroy the heroes in the city.”

Jude’s smile seemed lopsided. “You do, do you? A random civilian, albeit dapperly dressed, wants the heroes gone from the city? The protectors of our daily lives?”

“You don’t drink and meet people in the back of Dead Men’s Fingers unless you have some grudge against heroes, as I’m sure we both know.”

Something passed over Jude’s expression, as if Ambrose had just passed some test. Jude dipped his head, his hand over his glass. He tapped his index finger against the rim, never breaking eye contact with Ambrose.

“Drink.”

Ambrose didn’t hesitate. Jude’s eyes darkened. Ambrose blinked back the taste, the liquid burning his throat, running down hot and warming his gut. Jude grabbed the bottle, filling Ambrose’s empty glass again. Ambrose raised his brows, looking at Jude’s still full glass.

“Drink.”

“You first,” Ambrose said, his eyes narrowing.

Jude smiled a knowing smile, the same kind of smile that Ambrose imagined he wore when he first met Kit. The satisfied smirk of having all the control and power over a situation, and knowing it too.

“I have information and you want it, Ambrose. This isn’t a mutual exchange,” Jude said, pushing Ambrose’s glass towards him. Ambrose fought the urge to swallow and throttle Jude at the same time. “Drink.”

Ambrose pressed his lips into a thin line grabbing the glass and taking a sip. Jude shook his head with the same smirk on his face, though his eyes had lost all humour, dead-eyed and staring. “All of it.”

“I usually only let very sexy people get me drunk, Jude, and I hate to say it, but —”

“Drink, or I walk.”

A muscle in Ambrose’s jaw clicked and he swallowed back a scoff. He licked his lips and then threw his head back. The whiskey’s pleasant bite now seemed more of a pain than a plus, slithering through his mouth and down his throat like a viper caught in a net, nipping and biting at every place it could to try and free itself. A trapped, feral thing, something Ambrose could well turn into if Jude wasn’t careful.

Jude filled the glass the moment Ambrose set it down, and Ambrose wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and beat the shit out of the blond. But, to Ambrose’s relief, Jude let go of the bottle and sat back in his seat, smiling friendly at Ambrose again.

“Now, tell me, what’s your power.”

Ambrose blinked at Jude. He knew that Jude probably tried to access Ambrose’s head the same way Jude tried to reach in and grab the relevant information about Supervillain, but to know that Jude had attempted the same on Ambrose left him a little cagey.

“You tell me yours.”

Jude tilted his head to the side, as if to say: really? But to both of their surprise, he answered.

“I can possess people,” Jude said with a wry smile, taking a sip of his bourbon, his eyes crinkling at the taste. “Like a ghost.”

“Possess their body?” Ambrose asked. Jude nodded. “Interesting.”

“Mmm,” Jude hummed, something flickering briefly across his expression that was gone too fast for Ambrose to register. “Your turn.”

Ambrose hesitated. Aside from Kit, who he had compelled to keep silent about his Villain identity, Ambrose had never told someone his powers. Usually he wiped their memory after, ensuring he covered his tracks when he dabbled in and out of people’s minds.

Jude’s gaze sharpened. “Ambrose… I’m waiting. Tell me or dr—”

“It’s charm speak,” Ambrose said, meeting Jude’s bright green eyes. Ambrose tried to appear uncomfortable at the slip, bristling at the reveal. If he navigated this properly, Jude wouldn’t know for sure he was Omen.

“Explain.”

“I can be very persuasive. Make people like me more, get better deals in shops, get away with parking tickets.”

Jude hummed. Then nodded at Ambrose’s glass. “Drink that down and I’ll tell you what you want to know about Supervillain.”

Ambrose hesitated again. “Before you do… why the drinking? What’s in it for you?”

Jude shrugged. “You’re a telepath like me. Some are stronger than others, some are weaker. Sometimes, getting them drunk means that they lower their mental defences and I can play with them a bit. Find out how their abilities work.”

“Why?”

A flash of teeth. “Why not?” He was hiding something, Ambrose realised dumbly, though his eyes weren’t as sharp as they usually were so he couldn’t ascertain what. He let out a long sigh as his black eyes stared into the brown liquid in the dim lighting.

Just one more drink and he can get out of here. Ambrose’s fingers tightened around the glass. Just one more.

Ambrose didn’t think. He brought the glass to his lips and tipped his head back, gulped the liquid, squeezing his eyes shut as it tore down his throat, abusing his oesophagus but swallow it he did and set the glass back on the table, smacking his lips.

Jude’s shark like smile still on his face. “Now. Where can I find Supervillain?”

“You don’t. He finds you.”

Ambrose glared at the smirking man. “What? You said you knew him!”

“I do. I pass on the information that someone wants to get in contact, and then he finds you,” Jude said smugly. “But don’t worry. I already know he’ll be interested in you. He likes telepaths.”

“So how long is the wait?” Ambrose asked, running a hand through his hair. “Actually, nevermind it’s fine. Annoying, but fine. I have a better question: what’s his abilities?”

A smug knowing glint inflected the corner of Jude’s eyes, turning them up into smiles of their own. Ambrose suddenly understood what made him so terrifying to Kit in the first place — excluding the fact that he destroyed Mentor’s mind — telepaths had an otherness to them. Most powered individuals did, but telepaths… right now, in front of Ambrose, Jude looked more monster, or god of chaos and trickery, than man. The quick-witted fox who knew how the story would play out.

“That would be spoilers, Ambrose. Something I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

“So you wanted to get me drunk to lower my defences so you could poke around in my body and see what powers I had, and what? Then you go and report it back to Supervillain? Are you auditioning people for—”

Jude tilted his chin back, the smug smile remained as realisation crashed into Ambrose like a truck. “Oh,” he said and Jude’s smile widened, leaning over the table on his elbows.

“Oh.”

Ambrose sat back, his head spinning, his eyes taking a moment to adjust with the movement, a little woozy from the booze. “Supervillain who attacked Mentor’s statue, that could’ve been you, possessing Mentor’s body. Using his powers.”

Jude didn’t say anything. His eyes twinkling in the darkness. “Then again,” Ambrose continued, thinking exclusively out loud about it. “You could just be a middleman like you say, working with Supervillain and helping them get connections, but connections for what? And then that all flies in the face of the shapeshifter theory because you’re new on the villain scene Jude, or at least, the villain drinking scene.”

Jude didn’t twitch or flinch, or make any movements to agree or disagree with Ambrose’s open pondering, his face remained annoyingly stoic, the smile remaining on his face, green eyes drinking in Ambrose’s expressions.

Ambrose laughed, sitting back in his seat. “You need eye contact for possession, don’t you?”

Jude inclined his head as if he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but knew he wouldn’t get in trouble. “Yeah. I do. Though, I have to give credit, Ambrose. You’re tougher than you look, and you look plenty tough.”

Ambrose didn’t know whether they were going to kiss or kill each other, but a civil understanding passed between them, that neither of them could attack the other and so they were on a more level playing field than most people they encountered.

Ambrose’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out. Jude reclined further back, glancing into the darkness. “Something important?”

“You have no idea…”

(20:36) Kit: Supervillain at old town clocktower. Omw.

If Supervillain was in old town, that meant Ambrose could reach him first, but then again he didn’t want to underestimate Kit’s speed. Ambrose lifted his eyes to Jude’s, to find the green pools grinning at him.

“You’re not Supervillain,” Ambrose said.

“You so sure?” Jude asked, whistling lowly as he drummed his fingers over the barrel of a table. Ambrose grinned back.

“Certain.”

When the girl melted out of the shadows, Ambrose grabbed her wrist and slammed it down, causing her to flash into materialisation but that was all Ambrose needed. “Be a dear and kill Jude for me.”

Ambrose didn’t have to wait for her to obey the command. She grabbed the bottle of bourbon and smashed it off the table. As Ambrose slid out of the booth a stray shard caught his cheek and lodged there. He hissed in pain, grabbing his jacket and barrelling through patrons in the bar.

Max emerged from the kitchen, his eyes finding Ambrose and sharpening to a glare as Ambrose waved his apology. George grabbed the gun from under the counter, checking to see if the double-barrel was loaded while Max clicked his fingers. A handful of fire lit up his striking face and cast shadows in all the right places, making him look more like a vengeful angel than a man.

Ambrose walked out onto Fagan’s lot, working his way back through the maze of skinny alleyways to get to the Clocktower. A hand seized his upper arm and pulled him sideways. Ambrose’s eyes widened, head turning, the disembodied arm was pulling him towards a brickwall and Ambrose panicked, his hands flying up to protect his face.

He didn’t hit the wall. Instead, he fell through it, and he felt as if his entire body was being grated, or strung through a mincer, grinding his bones and organs and then he was on the other side of the wall and he could breathe again, his feet back on the ground.

He fell to his hands and knees gasping. “Freaky, innit?” Ambrose groaned at the sound of Jude’s voice, though a bit pleased to see it was slightly laboured.

Ambrose looked up, the room zooming in and out like a camera trying to focus. Shadow walking when drunk is not something he wanted to experience again. He saw Jude standing ahead of him, half hunched over a wall, one hand out while his elbow propped a towel into his other hand that was red with blood.

Smiling green eyes met black. “I must say, you almost got me there. I had only managed to possess Selena here after she sank that broken bottle into my hand,” he said with a good natured laugh. “Good for you I only need one.”

“Pity,” Ambrose said. A snake of shadows wrapped around Ambrose’s neck, cold and vicious as they slithered tighter, leaving enough oxygen for him to breathe, but not comfortably.

“I think they call this an impassé, Omen.” Jude said with a heavy breath. Ambrose narrowed his eyes, focusing hard on Jude’s free hand with his fingers splayed, as if he was playing an octave on a piano. It was trembling. “I can’t release Selena until you compel her not to kill me, which means Selena’s shadows won’t release you either.”

“Seems like a you problem.”

A swift kick to the face sent Ambrose sideways with a grunt, the stray shard of glass crunching further into his cheek. He could taste iron in his mouth and grimaced.

The shadowed hands righted Ambrose to his knees again, the coil of snakes winding a little tighter until Ambrose could only suck in a breath after choking on three.

Jude’s next words cause Ambrose to freeze. “Don’t you want to try and save Kit?” Jude’s playful chuckle followed the motion, and then the shadows turned into a rope, pulling Ambrose towards Jude. Ambrose dug his heels into the ground, trying to fight against them, but he felt a hand on his back, pushing him forwards too, ensuring he couldn’t fight back.

Ambrose stumbled forward at the jolt of another tug, but caught himself before he fell. Jude’s smile widened to the size of a shark, and two hands forced Ambrose to his knees in front of Jude.

Green eyes met black, all humour gone from them, replaced with a wildness. Unpredictable and chaotic. “I can kill you right now Ambrose, and your little compulsion will die with you. So how about, to save your little friend, or brother— whatever fucking weird family thing you got going on, I suggest you compel Selena to not kill me.”

“How do you know Kit?!” Ambrose demanded, choking on Kit’s name. The question was answered by a crushing force on his throat that felt strong enough to obliterate his oesophagus. “Okay,” he wheezed, tapping Jude’s leg as blackness circled his vision like vultures stalking their prey, waiting for it to die. “Ock— kay!”

The shadows recoiled from Ambrose’s throat and he fell forward, sucking in air, his eyes so close to Jude’s ugly trainers. Actually he took it back, he’d rather be choked by shadows than endure Jude’s disgraceful taste in shoes.

Ambrose got to his knees after he caught his breath. Green eyes cut into his face as sharp as the glass still embedded in his skin. “No funny business, Omen.”

Ambrose turned and told the girl to stop trying to kill Jude. He turned to Jude who smirked at him. “Get rid of the word trying, and do it again, asshole.”

Ambrose shrugged, lighthearted. Technically, if Ambrose had compelled her to stop trying to kill Jude, the way the brain would pick that up is stop trying to kill Jude and just kill him. Always fun to do business with a telepath.

Ambrose lifted the compulsion, and turned back to Jude, spreading his hands, as if to say: there. Jude dropped his splayed hand with a sharp exhale, and Ambrose could see the sweat running down his forehead from the panic he hid so well from Ambrose.

“You can rest easy now,” Ambrose told him.

Jude sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah. No can do, unfortunately. The boss has called us in, so we’ll be on our way.”

Ambrose’s gaze hardened. “What?”

Jude grinned, green eyes shining. “Oops. Did I forget to mention that? Well, no worries, Ambrose. I’ll give Kit your best.”

“What do you—” Ambrose didn’t finish his sentence before his head whipped to the side and the world swam in front of him. He reached a hand up to the side of his head, blinking as he pulled it away. Something warm and wet staining his hand. He met green eyes and something flashed in front of him and he crumpled to the ground, his vision darkening like a vignette. The last thing he saw was Jude’s ugly trainers by the door.

Fuck.

~*~*~*~

The door opened to the basement opened again. Footsteps sounded through the basement, echoing slightly, off the walls and around the room.

“Malyn…” Sawyer hissed in warning. Supervillain smiled at Kit’s hero name. They must really not know who he is. He didn’t know if he should be offended or not, but it wasn’t something he had to decide on his way down the stairs and into the basement.

Sawyer looked up defiantly when Supervillain stood in the mouth of the room. Tides was awake too, eyes trying to burn a hole in his head, though the pair looked a little worse for wear. Tides face was flushed, while Sawyer looked a little grey around the edges. Only Kit remained asleep.

Supervillain crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall, his eyes flicking to Tides. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Not in the slightest,” she replied immediately.

Supervillain turned to Sawyer. “Fuck you, dickhead.”

Supervillain shrugged. “Alright then, plan B.”

He walked over to Sawyer, pulling a key from his pocket to unlock Sawyer’s cuffs. Sawyer breathed a sigh of relief mixed with pain when his arms were freed and fell like lead onto his thighs. He kicked out weakly at Supervillain, but Supervillain just stepped forwards him, grabbing Sawyer to his feet under his arm.

“Hey! Get off him! Let him go!” Tides cried, yanking at her own cuffs. Sawyer tried to summon his magic but nothing happened and he cursed, glaring at Supervillain’s impassive mask.

“What— what did you do to us?” Sawyer couldn’t feel any power dampeners on him, not on his wrists or ankles, but he couldn’t feel his power in his body, like every time he went to reach for it, it pulled further away from him.

“I inhibited your ability to use your powers,” Supervillain told him simply. Sawyer’s stomach bottomed out. It felt so invasive, like a gut punch, as if Supervillain had reached in and messed with Sawyer’s physiology. He tried again, harder, reaching, but nothing happened.

“How?” Sawyer demanded, digging his heels in as Supervillain dragged him to the centre of the room and left him there.

“Stay,” he said and Sawyer couldn’t move. Supervillain walked to the corner, grabbing a chair and dragging it over to where Sawyer was before shoving Sawyer into the chair. Sawyer threw his hands out, trying to catch any part of Supervillain’s body but then he froze in his seat as he heard the door behind him open again. But Supervillain was beside Sawyer, dragging one of his wrists behind him and tying it to the chair.

Sawyer’s struggles renewed, pushing at Supervillain and when that didn’t work kicking him. He lunged up and tried to step away but his legs didn’t respond, still obeying the stay command. Supervillain put a hand on Sawyer’s chest, tilting his masked head to the side.

“You want to try again?” Sawyer met Tides wide eyes with his own, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t want to just give in, but if Tides saw that he obeyed willingly she’d think he deserved whatever torture that Supervillain had planned for him.

Sawyer pivoted and punched Supervillain’s mask, sending him stumbling back, then grabbed the chair his wrist was loosely tied to and held it up to the masked villain, holding the legs out like a shield and a weapon all in one.

“Sawyer!” Tides cried, but Sawyer was already turning so his body branched out to both threats. The other man was in his thirties, with dirty blond hair and forest green eyes. He had a freshly bandaged hand which was half stuck in his grey sweatpants pocket.

“Come on, fuckers,” Sawyer snapped, his teeth echoing at how sharply his jaw formed around the words. “Just let us go!”

“You sure you wanna do that, kid?” The blond asked, inclining his head. His green eyes smirking at the defiant spark in Sawyer. The blond glanced to Kit’s sleeping form and then to Tides pointedly. “Maybe we can’t get you, but think about your friends. You want to get them hurt too?”

Sawyer clenched his jaw, fingers curling around the arms of the chair. No, he didn’t want to get them hurt, but he didn’t want to get hurt either. “I’m not just gonna lie down and let you torture us. Beat us fairly, in combat. In the field.”

Jude clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and glanced at Supervillain. Supervillain dipped his head and Jude shrugged. He walked over to Kit and Sawyer’s heart leapt into his throat. Jude reached down and Sawyer yelled out a terse: “wait!”

The blond paused, glancing back at Sawyer, waiting for him to continue. Sawyer slammed the chair down and sat again, locking eyes with Tides who bowed her head too. A wordless understanding blossoming between them. They both would’ve done the same thing.

One of them grabbed Sawyer’s free hand and tied it behind the chair, attaching it to the wood and then his other wrist, enough room left so that if he struggled the coarse ropes would rub against his flesh, burning it. He swallowed his fear and sat silently.

Superhero would find them, wouldn’t he? He would come to the rescue. Sawyer didn’t even believe his own lie, but it was all the comfort he had as the blond guy came around to face Sawyer.

“This one’s Kit?” The blond asked, but Supervillain’s distorted voice replied behind Sawyer: “no. The sleepy one’s Kit.”

“I see,” he said, straightening, his cat-like eyes going back to Kit. Sawyer kicked a leg out at the blond who gasped as if shocked.

“Don’t touch him asshole.”

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it, hero?”

Sawyer kicked him again, but this time, he aimed for his hand and the blond drew back with a curse. Sawyer grinned as the blond drew his fist back and punched him square in the face, and then hit his nose again until tears sprung to his eyes, dizzying.

“Leave him alone, Jude. We won’t break them by beating them.”

The blond — Jude — sighed theatrically and turned to face Tides instead. Unfortunately, he had the sense to step out of Sawyer’s kicking range.

“Fine. You’re the boss…” he said, then whistled as he walked over to Tides, crouching down to be eye-level with her. “Hello gorgeous.”

Tides spit in his face. Jude laughed, his hand shot out and grabbed Tides by the throat, tilting her head up to face him. “Oh, darlin’, you’ll regret that real soon. I’d apologise to Sawyer if I were you.”

Sawyer bristled. “Why would she apologise to me dickhead?”

Nobody answered. Sawyer shifted in the chair. “Hey! Asshole!”

Nothing.

The sound of Tides’ restraints unlocking strangely sent a cold chill down Sawyer’s spine instead of being reassuring. Jude stood and so did Tides, silently, the noiseless echo choking him as he stilled in his chair, waiting for… something to happen.

Jude stepped away from Tides, revealing her to Sawyer. She looked bad, her broken wrist hung limply by her side but in her other hand she had a knife, her expression an eerie blankness.

Sawyer shifted in his seat again, pushing back in the chair, trying to escape from the ropes, but they just rubbed raw against his wrists. “Hey. Tides. Tides! Wake up! Tides! Hey, Tides! What’re you doing?!” Sawyer yelled, turning his glare to Jude who stood with his hand out, fingers splayed as if he were conducting a marionette, his fingers moving in tandem with Tides approaching Sawyer where he sat.

“If you refuse to quit being a hero,” Supervillain said behind Sawyer, Tides stopping suddenly in front of him. “Then we’ll have to do something drastic to change your minds, won’t we? Did you know, Sawyer, back in the day, before heroes were called heroes, a lot of them stopped being heroes because of the horrors they witnessed. The PTSD haunted their dreams, and when it got too much, they retired. Some killed themselves, some went mad. But they did stop being heroes after a lot of pain.”

Sawyer flinched when Supervisors put his hands on his shoulders, kneading the tense muscle with his thumbs. “Of course. You can just vow to quit now, and we don’t have to do anything nasty. Tides won’t have to hurt you, and you won’t have to let her. Is your pride really worth all the trauma this will cause?”

“Don’t—” Sawyer choked out, his eyes pleading as they found Tides’s bright blue ones, dull and dead. “Tides please, we’re friends.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jude said, “she’s not in control of her actions, but the guilt that will come after?” He whistled. The sound went through Sawyer.

“You can stop this,” Supervillain whispered. “You don’t have to go through with this Sawyer. Tides is out of it and I can make her forget if she remembers, and Kit is sleeping. Neither of them will judge you if you want to tap out now.”

“Please,” Sawyer said, shaking his head at Tides. “Tides, wake up! Please! Please! Fight back!”

Jude laughed. “Oh she’s fighting alright.”

“Let her go, you psychos!” Sawyer screamed, thrashing in the chair. Supervillain sighed above him, tightened his grip briefly, then stepped away.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” Supervillain said, and the worst part was that he sounded genuine. Jude however was smiling behind Tides, his green eyes fixed on Sawyer who squirmed as far back as he could away from Tides.

“We’ll start slow,” Jude said, and Tides sliced an arc down Sawyer’s face. Sawyer screamed through clenched teeth, humming as Tides withdrew the blade from his skin. It probably went an inch deep, because the blood was pouring down his face, leaking into his eyes and mouth.

“Crow?” Kit. Finally awake. “Crow! Tides! Stop! What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry, Kit,” Supervillain said and the three heroes stilled, their blood running cold. How did he know Kit’s name? He was right… they know who Supervillain is… Kit’s wide eyes turned to Supervillain’s two toned mask. He could feel Supervillain’s smile, hear it in his distorted voice. “You’ll get your turn after Sawyer.”

“Who are you, you bastard!?” Sawyer screamed, his head whipping to Supervillain. “Who the fuck are you?! Are you one of us? You fucking traitor!”

Kit trembled, cold, his wrists rattling in their restraints despite himself. “You heroes are so spirited,” the blond said, his eyes bright and cruel. “It’s adorable.”

“Do you want to stop being heroes?” Supervillain asked again.

“Go to hell,” Sawyer barked. Kit wanted to… he really wanted to stop, to not fight Supervillain on this and let him wipe his memory. Let the villain make the decision for him, let him quit while he’s ahead, he doesn’t want to end up like Mentor. He doesn’t.

He raised his head, looked Supervillain in his mask and said: “swap me with Sawyer.”

“What?” Sawyer asked, his voice a little hollow. “Kit—”

“Swap me out for Sawyer,” Kit said through clenched teeth. “Please, just please.“

If Kit could take the pain, and someone rescued them soon, then the other two wouldn’t have to suffer as much. Kit already dealt with Ambrose, he could take it.

Supervillain hummed on the way over to Kit. He crouched down in front of the hero, and took his chin in his hands. “Why would I do that? One hero is hurting another, it doesn’t matter which is which.”

“Please,” Kit said, his eyes pleading. “I’m begging you. Just let me go first. If you’re a hero you’ll understand. Please.”

Supervillain glanced back at Jude who kept his laughing green eyes on Kit, amused. “Hell, kid. I’ll even do the honours myself, I owe you one from your friend, Ambrose.”

Kit didn’t take his pleading eyes from Supervillain’s face, though he wanted to ask the blond a million questions. How do you know Ambrose? What do you mean owe him one? “Please.”

“I know you, Kit. I know it would kill you, and devastate you to see your friends in danger, in peril, and not be able to do anything to save them. I don’t want to cause you pain, I want you to stop being heroes. I want this to be quick and painless.”

“Supervillain please don’t do this!” Kit begged, shaking his arms in his cuffs. His voice breaking as he pleaded. “Please! Please, just let them go.”

Supervillain stood again. He nodded at the blond. Tides sliced again and Sawyer screamed. Kit flinched as if he was the one being cut. Only when Sawyer’s screams stopped did Supervillain say that was enough for the day, and leave the three heroes in the basement.

They didn’t even tie Tides up again, but her sobs filled the room instead of the screams, crying into Sawyer’s legs and apologising for it all. Kit stared numbly forward, his mind blank. He didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing.

And he didn’t know which would haunt him more.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie e @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer r @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl l l @n3rv0usn0v4 4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath h h @theonewithallthefixations @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast t @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie

[richeeduvie]

Can someone please explain to me the whole baby thing? And dog bone au? And all these aus im so confused

DOG AND BONE!AU BASICS

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

This is asked every five months and I'm happy to explain it each time! I'll put it in the pinned post! This is a long one so sorry yall

So Dog and Bone is the title to the AU for a self-insert x Roman Roy fic compilation. There's no actual series yet…sorry, I know! How long has it been? But these fics range from entire one-shots that center around a plot that can lead into another one-shot/drabble, with the content of said piece becoming important to the whole AU, to just cute, fluffy or smutty drabbles and blurbs. Most of them are based on requests. Your request could become a big part of Dog and Bone!

BABY

Baby is the name for the self-insert. Fics will flip from a second person to third person POV, so you'll see her referred to as 'Baby' a lot. I don't consider her an OC because there's no and will never be a physical description of her and to be honest, I only started to referred to her as Baby so I could write third person POV fics when I'm lazy and don't want to go heavy in internal monologue, which is what I do for second person POV fics. I never use 'Y/N' for her or any self-insert. But many see her as other people and not themselves and I love that too!

Personality-wise, you'll find her to Roman's soulmate. Although she is still a victim of being out-of-touch due to her wealth, she's managed to be kind and respectful and just something that Roys don't have outside of her. She's the ultimate nepo baby with Logan just giving her some vague career path at Waystar to keep her around. She mostly works in marketing and spends her days with Tom and Greg. So, the story of DAB (lol). Baby is the childhood best friend of Roman (and Shiv). In the AU, Baby's biological father was Logan's best friend and business associate. She met the Roy family when she was five and when Roman when almost seven. She was meant to be the best friend of Shiv, but Roman stole her one day when Shiv when to get more toys and baby Baby was on the swings. His sister is still pissed about this to this day.

Nothing much has been mentioned of Baby's bio dad just yet, but it was a one-time thing (so understandable is yall don't remember) that we see Logan giving Baby the medal her father gave him after his funeral. He's dead and apparently fought in a war, or maybe just liked collecting medals as much as Logan did.

So, facts about the dead dad:

Maybe was a veteran

Was hinted to have given Baby an eating disorder

Died when she was eight

Possibly kept her away from her mother

Logan's her godfather, but it was Frank to take her in after her dad had passed. Frank ON TOP!!!! PAPA FRANK!!! Baby's mother is very distant and she's really only seen her for a few holidays throughout her childhood. I've always imagined her to be those wealthy hippies feigning spirituality and did maybe try to get Baby in terms of custody, but didn't try a lot - not even after Baby's father died. So, Baby gets to stay with the Roys with Frank being her guardian. With this, it's just co-dependency and possessiveness growing.

Roman and Baby don't really have friends outside of each other. They do everything together and eventually start doing relationship sort of things together. They take each others virginities. Roman gets panicky and painful in the muscles if Baby has to leave him for more than three days. It's great, but nothing's official.

They live this way until Roman gets with Tabitha.

Now, you may be thinking 'Why does he begin a relationship with Tabitha if he's so possessive and seemingly satisfied with the situation he has with Baby?' Well, I have two fics that'll help you to explain Roman's stupidity:

Why Does Rome Still Date Tabitha (They Don’t Have Sex, but Still) Kendall Wins!AU Confession

The latter of the two is a bit more personal and truthful for Roman. It can be noted that as much as I am a GerriRoman supporter, their relationship does not happen in the DogandBone!AU. Only because one, frankly, I don't know how to or have the desire to thread it throughout the story because I already kept Tabitha's plotline…which is Roman's downfall. You will see. And two, you'll find that Roman and all of the Roys, really, have a lot of themselves changed all because they have one genuine friend that's cared and loved them since childhood so that big part of Roman's plotless plot-time in canon is gone here. Grace didn't happen as well because Jesse Armstrong said so lol.

As I said, the genuine friend line applies to all of the Roys (excluding Logan, except for his AU…), but it really applies to Kendall. Going back to the point where Baby and Roman are fourteen/fifteen and fifteen/sixteen, he gets sent away to military school. I made it so he's only there for two years to which Logan just doesn't care to send him there anymore because I want Baby and Roman teenage puppy and needy love for as much as I can get it. During this time, Kendall has this belief, this kindness to take in Baby when she's at her loneliest.

and…so…Kendall and Baby's whole thing?

The link above sums up their whole situation but I'll elaborate a bit more here because there's Tern Haven. Tern Haven happens in the OG!DogandBone!AU and KendallWins!AU, the grooming situation happens in every AU.

Of course, Roman comes back and Baby sobers up for the most part and leaves groomer Kendall's ass in the dust! It's when Roman starts dating Tabitha decades later that Kendall, who never actually made a move on Baby, brings hell and tragedy to the family. Baby's not so keen on continuing to have sex and the weird thing she has with Roman as he is with Tabitha around, so she becomes lonely and thoughtful in the need to reconnect with friends, maybe start dating herself. She's there during Tern Haven and can't go to Roman's room to hang out, Tabitha's there. She doesn't bother Shiv and Tom, she could talk with Frank, maybe? Maybe, but she makes her way to Kendall's room.

And whatever high horse Kendall put himself on for not doing anything with Baby, maybe not being in love with her - or at least having no awareness about it, whatever was starting with Naomi, it's gone when Baby enters that room.

Again, Tern Haven happens in Kendallwins!AU and the OG!AU. The only difference is that after, Roman is either successful in pulling Baby away from Kendall, or he isn't. This is where it can get confusing as it can with all the AUs because there's so many little splices of moments within content that really helps you understand how things happen but I can say that the Kendallwins!AU is just sad, scary, and dark.

But enough of that!

OG!DOGANDBONE!AU

After Roman's successful in getting Kendall away from Baby, he immediately breaks up with Tabitha and they heal from what happened. Kendall declines quickly during this. Logan dies and they get married after the GoJo sale. They have Baby Jr. On occasion, we'll have fun and write them having two more kids, Baby Jr Jr and Roman Jr, but they aren't canon - or they at least would get a canon fic like Baby

FICS TO HELP: Romulus Sneakers | Dad Frank feat. Baby Roman Call Them Brothers Back in Town Bone and Her Heart Roman’s a Friend Stealer While you were sleeping Touch Me (I'm Sick) Date Death | Part One Date Death Part 2 Babied (He Loves It) Violet, Blue, Green, Red To Keep Me Out Phone Call Home Baby Baby in “I went to Market” Baby in ‘Too Much Birthday’ After the GoJo Sale Telling Roman She's Pregnant

BABY JR

Baby Jr is an unrealistically perfect angel of a child that belongs to Roman and Baby in their AU and was born a preemie with a slew of health problems, but because I love her so much, it's becoming a running joke for her to just exist in every AU, somehow. if Baby's there, Baby Jr's there. She's named fittingly. You'll see her a lot in smaller blurbs and fics. Another running joke is that she hates Kendall in every AU, though she's barely mentioned outside of the OG! and Loganwins!AU.

JUST MY FAVORITE BABY JR FICS:

Baby Baby's First and Last Day at School Bear Baby Jr! Baby Jr Doing Something Dangerous Connor Taking Baby Jr Fishing Baby Jr seeing Baby Roman with Glasses

VARIATIONS OF THE OG!AU

They aren't mentioned a lot anymore because we don't get so serious about them and it was more just to have fun with the story, but the OG!AU does have some variations to how the plot goes. You have Baby and Roman having Baby Jr before season one where Tabitha and Tern Haven are things that obviously never happened:

If Roman Knocked Baby Up Logan Bullying Baby Jr YoungBornBabyJr!AU With Roman Forcing Baby to Marry Him Roman Drunk and Loving If Roman Knocked Baby Up in Their 20s If Baby Jr was Little in The Pilot Logan’s Baby Jr Favoritism Where’s Your Daughter?

Then, you have Baby dying and Roman killing himself to leave Baby Jr an orphan: Come Time, Baby Jr Missing Mommy.

Or you have Baby AND Baby Jr dying to leave Roman killing himself after his last moments of suffering…which, I can't find, but do we really want to read that?

If you don't want to suffer, it can end simply as a nightmare Roman had in the night. Here's another Nightmare Blurb.

LOGANWINS!AU

Listen. I CANNOT be the only person who has consistently written for Logan. I CANNOT! But I do and Baby is unfortunately the victim of a joke turned into a horniness for an old, old man.

Logan doesn't actually have a fic establishing the Loganwins!AU. Everything that's longer than a blurb are moments that already take place after they've gotten together. Tern Haven does not take place here because it appears that this…intimate relationship takes place before season one. Roman doesn't get together with Tabitha in this AU because he's really fucked up about his soulmate having sex and marriage with his…Dad. His abusive Dad. Baby Jr does exist here! This started as a joke to get people grossed out over old man Logan cock, I played it so I was DISGUSTED to appease any requests that were sent in. I really was. I don't know what happened. But a lot of what is written expands past Logan x Reader and more about the AU itself, which happens with Kendallwins! and the OG!AU too.

FICS TO HELP: THE OFFICE CONFRONTATION Mondale The Second Baseball Sick Baby Jr Mom(my) Siblings and Baby Jr Buzz off! Sister Shiv Recital Alone Baby Jr How Does The Relationship Begin? How Does Logan Propose? Are Baby and Roman Still Close? Pregnancy Announcement in the AU They Bought a Cat Who's Baby Jr's Godfather? Panty Stealer Roman's Twitter Argument

You guys are lucky I can't find the smut fic I wrote. But it's here on this blog. Somewhere.

Nvm here it is my bad: Reflections.

AFFAIR!AU

There's the Loganwins!AU, then there's the Affair!AU, which was established pretty recently. It's where Baby begins an affair with Roman while she's married to Logan and Baby Jr ends up being Roman's daughter, not his little sister. As much as I have accepted my great enjoyment in indulging the Logan lovers, I do think this is Baby at her most Succession.

She gets the benefits of being Logan's wife and his favorite wife, a cute daughter, Roman at her heel, whining for her to really be with him but knowing he'll never leave her at her denial. She's horrible, a whore. A baddie winning.

FICS TO HELP: Baby Jr being Roman's Daughter Roman and Newborn Baby Jr Baby in the Affair!AU Roman revealing she's his to his siblings "Dada" A Slight Confrontation How does it start? In Dad's Bed

GROOMING SITUATION (OG!AU and KENDALLWINS!AU)

So, I explained most of it above, but these are the fics to help understand just how messed up DogandBone!Kendall is. He's a different man, guys.

(Also Stewy was there. Stewy was her friend. A flawed twenty-something year old who didn't care enough to separate himself from Kendall when noticing the red flags of him and Baby, but he denied, denied, denied. But he also gave Baby some sense of being…ya know, a kid…cause he saw her as a CHILD)

Tern Haven:

Tern Haven EXTENDED TERN HAVEN More of Tern Haven (…Yay…)

Ken's Groomer Era:

Sleepover Drugged Up Heart Does Baby go Clubbing With Kendall? The Birthday (Big One) Kendall being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous More of Ken being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous Sleepover 2 Kendall's Birthday Gifts....

The Aftermath:

Smacktalking During Too Much Birthday Bad Bit

There's more, of course. There's always more.

KENDALLWINS!AU

After Tern Haven, Kendall has Baby. He's won Baby. He gets more addicted to drugs while making her dependent on them. He turns her into nothing - and just for him. He's scary and paranoid when it comes to Roman. A variation of the AU would be the Babydies!AU, where she accidently overdoses after he leaves her alone. It's a lot. This is not a fun AU, guys. But I like to write it!

FICS TO HELP:

Housewife Thing Waystar Press Conference Accusing Baby Jr of Not Being His Roman Trying to Get Baby Back From Kendall A Slight, Brotherly Confrontation Daily Does of Horror (Heroin) Mention of Heroin Handsy Baby and Kendall and Pills Panty Stealer Brother Roman's Dick Pics Saying Roman's Name Flower Delivery

THE OD FICS:

No Time Needled Memories

NOW....

SHIV'S AU

Shiv's AU isn't even a win!AU, technically. We haven't really dabbled in the idea of her winning. Just more of her yearning, but all in all, this woman wants Baby soooo badly. Too sad she has the guilt of being a woman. And her father. And Tom. And the denial hot on her skin.

Calling Shiv Shiv

TOM'S AU

Apparently the man can get obsessed and they haven't even kissed in his AU, yet. Fitting considering the shit he pulls with Greg. It's Baby at her most guilty due to her friendship with Shiv.

KARL'S AU

No.

STEWY'S AU

I give crumbs and only crumbs. But we're getting something started with Wedding Bells (Part One)!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

I hope this helps! xoxo

[winniethewife]

Let me taste your silhouette

(Shiv X F!reader)

Prompt: Piercings

Words:1280

Warnings: Smut under the cut, Pierced reader, Nipple piercings, Breast play, humping, Switch!reader Switch!Shiv, Pet names (Puppy), oral sex (Fem receiving), PinV, unprotected sex, cream pie

A/N: For my Event Nine weeks in hell, and Kinktober.

Shiv was captivated by the way the small metal bar bell felt under his fingers as he held her breast in his hand his fingers rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers. His hand under her jacket, attempting to hide his actions from the group she was talking to. Her body pressed close to him as they stood in the corner of the party they were at. A plastic cup of Vodka and some kind of Kool-aid in her hand as they stood, Shiv’s back against the wall, her hips pressed into his, as she talked to some others standing around them. Shiv desperately wanted to leave the party, for her to stop talking and take him home with her so he could finally get what he wanted, the feeling of the metal between his teeth, her bare skin under him. He used his unoccupied hand to pull her hips closer to him, rubbing his hard on against her ass, trying to show how much he needed her. After what felt like an entirety he was almost about to give up, when he whispered in her ear.

“Please Baby, end this, let’s go home and let me show you how good I can treat you.” his hot breath against the shell of her ear sending shivers down her spine. She smiled and reaches around to hold the side of his face, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone.

“Shhh, Puppy, wait your turn.” She whispered, her thumb continues to teasingly caress his face, her attention returning to the conversation she was having with the other party goers. This of course irritated Shiv but at the chiding from his lover he pulled back slightly and waited, his fingers still fidgeting with her pericing and his face still buried in the crook of her neck. And there he waited patiently for a while, as she continued to talk and talk. Shiv was getting impatient, he started to grumble his voice low and irritated.

“I want to go. Rather spend the night talking between your legs.” He huffed. She gave him a glance, an unspoken warning in her eyes, but he wasn’t playing anymore, he grabs her breast squeezing it as he continues to roll her nipple between his fingers. “I know you really want to.” He growls. Their eyes meet and she can tell he isn’t going to back down. She turned her attention to the people she was talking to and grinned.

“I apologize, I have something to attend to.” She said in a faux-cheery voice before she grabs his hand from her breast and dragged him across the room. She finds an empty bedroom, closing the door and turning on him. “Okay Puppy, You need this right now? you can’t be a good boy and wait for me to be done?”  She spoke dangerously low, standing centimeters away from him. Shiv smiles devilishly.

"When you're talking, I go dead, It’s so boring.” He replied in a childish tone, egging her on. He takes her hips in his hands and pulled her in close, his lips hovering over hers. “Let me show you better ways to use that mouth of yours baby.” He whispered before pressing his lips against hers, drawing her closer into his embrace as he kisses her hungrily like a starving man. At first she was resistant to relinquish control of the situation, but when his hand held the back of her head and he sucked gently on her top lip, she melted like putty in his hands. She pressed her body against him, He pushed back walking the two of them over to the bed, forcing her down on to the bed, his hips trust against hers, seeking the relief from the glorious friction. His hands tracing her curves, starting at her ass and up her sides, finding their way to the edge of her shirt, pulling the fabric up over her breasts, exposing her pierced nipples to the cool air, his fingers graze over them with reverence. The sensation draws soft whimpers from her lips and she arches into his touch. Shiv smiles, how the tables have turned, now she was just as needy as he had been, he watched with delight she writhes underneath him, bucking her hips up into his, kissing him passionately. She grabs at his jacket and pulled him down on top of her, her whole tough woman persona out the window. She just wanted him to give her exactly what he’d been begging to give her all night.

“That’s it Baby, let me give you this dick, it’ll put you on right.” Shiv babbles as he pulled off his belt buckle and undid his jeans. “Make you feel so good baby, right? My dick is the only dick you need.” He continues, clumsily pulling down her own jeans, getting ready to slide himself between her folds and fuck her into tomorrow, when she grabs his hair, tugging his face down in between her thighs.

“Shut your mouth, give me your head.” She growls pulling on his ink black hair until he was perfectly positioned, his nose bumping against her clit as he eagerly lapped at her wet folds, his dark eyes looking up at her in the darkened room, eager to please. As Shiv continued to lick and suck at her, she leans her head back on to the bed lost in the moment as pleasure pooled in her abdomen, her climax surely approaching. Shiv moaned into her, thrusting his hips into the bed, his boxers wet with precum, his dick is achingly hard, his nails digging into her thighs as he grips them either side of his head. He focused his work on to her clit, swirling his tongue in circles around the sensitive nub. Her eyes roll back into her head as she felt the warmth of her climax over take her body her whole mind shutting off as the pleasure overrides her thoughts. When she returns to her senses Shiv is positioned over her, gently kissing his way up her chest, swirling his tongue over her nipples, loving the metallic taste in his mouth, she could feel the head of his cock rubbing on her folds, begging to fill her up.

“Baby, please…I wanna fuck you so good.” Shiv muttered, mouth full of her tits. He doesn’t have to ask again, she’s already flipped him over, straddling his hard dick as she works to lower herself onto him, slowly teasing him with every move she makes, everything she takes, everything she gives, it was surely going to drive him mad. His hands come to rest on her hips, his eyes tracing her figure, his expression filled with unfiltered adoration and desire. He was practically drooling at the sight of her riding his dick, and he certainly wasn’t being quiet about it, his moans and whimpers fill the space in time with her movements. He wasn’t going to last long, but every moment he did felt like nirvana. As Shiv felt the pressure building in him he couldn’t be patient any more, he grabbed onto her, pulling her down on to him as he rutted up into her, frantically seeking his release in her sweet slick, his rhythm chaotic and wild.

“Oh, Fuck! Shiv, please, god, mgh. Cum for me baby, please” She pleaded into his ear as he pushed up into her again and again until finally he felt the mind scrambling pleasure flow through his body, his spend filling her with warmth. They fall into each other’s embrace, filled with the joy of the afterglow as they came down from their highs, blissfully unaware of the party outside.

~

Masterlist

Taglist: : @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

[nevesmose]

Nostraman Nature Sucks: An Attempted Lore Post

Ave dominus nox Night Lords fans. I thought I'd take some time to go through the various NL stories I have to hand and see what I could find out about the animals that lived on Nostramo. Might come in useful for something, who knows?

Sharks and Whales

As a child, on several coastal journeys with his father, he had witnessed the eyeless barrasal sharks that would group together to hunt the great whales of the open ocean. (Night Lords Trilogy)

His voice filters into something savage and predatory, as hungry as the eyeless white sharks of Nostramo’s blackest depths. (The Long Night)

Not a big surprise since they talk about them fairly often and have the Space Sharks as a successor chapter but Nostramo does have sharks. Pretty gnarly-sounding sharks if I'm honest.

I didn't know what "barrasal" meant, so I looked it up and only found one thread on r/40klore that had the same quote in it as above. Hmm.

Assuming it's not a typo or a more straightforward reference to something I'm just not getting, I'd venture a guess that barrasal, understood here to mean of or relating to "barras" like with "abyssal" could be connected to the French Revolutionary leader Paul Barras who is mostly remembered for supporting Napoleon's rise to power before being overthrown by him.

So maybe the older barrasal sharks will make use of younger ones as temporary hunting partners only to be inevitably betrayed and consumed by them. Sounds about right I think.

As for the whales, where do I even begin? I would imagine they're "whales" in name only like in Dishonored:

This does imply the possible existence of a whaling industry at some stage in Nostramo's history, though.

Crows

Jago reached into his pockets, offering a handful of breadcrumbs. Come, he said to the crows. Food for tonight. Flesh, flesh, flesh, they called back. He laughed as several of the black birds landed on his shoulders and outstretched arm. (Prince Of Crows)

‘Yes. I’ve seen them in books. Is a crow a type of bird?’ ‘Black of feather and dark of eye. It feeds on the bodies of the dead, and sings in a raw, croaking caw.’ (TLN)

Breaking news - legion that keeps referring to crows in shocking has crows on its homeworld scandal. "This is outrageous," said local Nostraman cutpurse and skin disease enthusiast Verxaglryn Quickstabber, "here we are trying to make a good name for Nostramo as a respectable hellhole, a place you'd be proud to exile your worst enemy to, and yet we're surrounded by some of the most intelligent and curious birds in existence. I was shanking someone in a back alley the other night and suddenly I saw a crow learning how to use rudimentary tools! Not on my watch, I said to the rapidly cooling body, and I threw my shiv at it. But it just flew away." At this point Mr Quickstabber was obliged to end the interview due to having been eviscerated by the Night Haunter.

I know their communication with Sevatar is happening in a dream but I really like the idea of the crows adapting to Nostramo by developing some kind of psychic hive mind that's also able to be understood by human psykers.

Crag Cougars

A beast of my home world. When next you see one of the Atramentar, look to their shoulder guards. The roaring lions on their pauldrons are what we called crag cougars on Nostramo. It was considered a mark of wealth for gang bosses to be able to leave the cities and hunt such creatures. (NLT)

Every single one of them is Scar from the Lion King, isn't it? An interesting hint about Nostramo's geography though, of which more later.

Rats

Groundcars whisked by, headlights brighter than deep-hive rats’ eyes, the occupants snug and safe behind armoured glass. (Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter)

No surprises here either. Where there's people there's rats after all.

Something with tusks?

The older Astartes grinned, wolf-like and keen, as the Atramentar either side of the Exalted’s throne growled through their tusked helms. (NLT)

This isn't that conclusive because a lot of Chaos Terminators have tusks no matter what legion they are, but Nostramo being Nostramo they probably belonged to a species of giant carnivorous mammoth that ate babies and sprayed acid from its trunk.

Cows? On My Sunless World?

‘They are still of standard human stock, and not to be mourned. What does it matter if the cattle fear the herdsman?’ hissed Krukesh the Pale. (KC:TNH)

This one's a real reach on my part as it's very likely just a turn of phrase, but I noticed it because wouldn't it be slightly more typical to use a sheep metaphor here? Plus it supports the existence of Nostraman cowboys/ranchers/vaqueros which is fun.

No bats?

His helmet bore a new, spread batwing crest in blatant imitation of Sevatar’s own. (A Safe and Shadowed Place)

A sole space was neat: a circle around an iron lectern fashioned in the form of a bat’s outflung wings, which carried a heavy book bound in human skin. (KC:TNH)

Although they appear a lot in the VIII legion's iconography and artwork, oddly enough I wasn't actually able to find a direct reference to Nostramo itself having bats. Let's cover my ass by saying this aspect might therefore have been brought in by the legion's Terran component instead.

Some Nostraman geography

The Hill Folk lived away from the cities, eking out an existence in the mountains. (NLT)

What's worse than living in a Nostraman city? Living on a Nostraman hill, apparently. This seems to just be an idea of ADB's that doesn't come up again but I've always found it quite interesting. Were the Hill Folk as scummy as the City Folk, just with more of a down-home Dukes of Hazzard vibe? Seems likely.

This also supports the idea of Nostramo not being completely urbanised like some Hive Worlds are. In my view its continents might have had a geographical layout a bit like Italy or Scotland where the cities are mainly on the flatter coasts with a more sparsely populated hilly/mountainous interior.

What else? (This part is just me making stuff up so feel free to ignore it. I'm not ADB, I'm not even ADB's hat.)

If the rest of Nostramo's marine life is anything like the sharks and whales then it's fucking terrifying. I would imagine, because it's funny, that a lot of Nostraman food features disgusting industrially-processed fish in some way or another. Like the food in Dishonored but even worse.

Is something wrong, dearest offworld husband? You haven't touched your stale bread, whalemeat and jellied eels.

Since all life on Nostramo seems to be comically carnivorous and aggressive, it would make sense in a 40K kind of way for there to be giant predatory penguins living at one or both of its poles. A bit like the monstrous blind albino penguins HP Lovecraft wrote about.

Last known infrared pict-capture of an early Nostraman settler attempting communication with a juvenile specimen of the native penguin species. There were no survivors.

[j0elmill3r]

joel having a babygirl a few years after the apocalypse started after a one night stand and shes like 5/6 when they meet ellie, ellie's like really protective over her and sees her as a little sister or just like ellie meeting her😭

(Tess is claimed as baby girl's mom here!)

You crouched at the side of the front door to yours, your mom and your dad's apartment - Holding the shiv your dad had given you tightly in your hands as you heard footsteps coming up the stairs, tightly shutting your eyes as you awaited the arrival of whoever it was that was coming.

If there was one thing that Tess and Joel tried to teach you in your short 5 years of living, it was that you had to do anything to survive, meaning that sometimes you would need to hurt people. As he reached the apartment door, Joel advised Ellie to stand back, anticipating that you would come charging out with your small, makeshift knife in hand, ready to attack. His suspicions were confirmed when you ran out of the door, quickly being stopped by your mom as he swooped in and picked you up.

"Huh? Mama!" You greeted her excitedly, smiling at the sight of your mother's face as she held you at her waist. Tess smiled as she kissed your cheek, looking at you and then Joel, who looked at you and then Ellie. You followed your father's gaze to the girl who stood by the stairs, more interested in the zip of her red hoodie than she was in your parents. "Who that?" You asked your mom quietly, looking at her and then at the girl. Ellie looked up from her zipper and looked at you as your mother held you, neither Joel nor Tess had mentioned anything about transporting another kid?

"Who's that?" Ellie asked, looking at Joel as she pointed at you. Joel's gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, your head on Tess's shoulder as she ran a hand up and down your back.

"She's our daughter, Y/N," He told Ellie, who smiled at you as you hid your face. "Say hi to...Ellie, baby girl." Joel told you softly, taking you from Tess and holding you.

"Hi Ellie," You greeted her quietly, looking over at her as your dad held you. "I Y/N." You introduced yourself to the girl.

-

Ellie sat on the old couch in your apartment, watching as you sat on the floor playing with some old alphabet blocks that Tess and Joel had sourced through trading.

"El," You had given her the nickname, you didn't quite the rest of her name, so had opted for something easier for you to say. She looked down as you held your A, B, and C blocks up to her, a smile on your face as she smiled back at you. "Play?" You asked her. She nodded and slid down from the couch and onto the floor beside you, taking the block that you held out to her.

"You're learning your ABCs?" Ellie asked you, watching as you happily nodded and recited them to her, Joel and Tess listening as they tried to prepare a somewhat healthy dinner for you. Joel watched with a sad smile as you and Ellie continued interacting, thinking that if you had known her, you would have had the same relationship with Sarah.

"It looks like they're getting along," Tess said, smiling at Joel as she looked in on Ellie spelling out your name with your blocks. As much as your conception was very much accidental, it didn't mean that your mom and dad didn't love you - if anything, you provided them with some necessary serotonin in a world that was voided of it.

Joel Miller Tag list - Want to join? Fill out this form!

@mrvlxgrl @white-wolf-buckaroo @change-the-world-someday @mand1ora @sleepylunarwolf @kobiiblog @rrickgrrimes8 @wxnderingthoughts @mimi-luvzyu

[hughiecampbelle]

Arrangement (Roy!Sibling x Lukas Matsson)

((SUCCESSION SPOILERS))

Character/s: Lukas, Kendall, Shiv, Roman, Logan mention

Word Count: 1,732

Requested: hi!! can i request roy!baby sibling being sent to “woo” lukas in favor of the deal? they were indifferent at first but eventually fell for him. (not necessarily needed to be included but i imagine kendall would find out about the blood thing with ebba and try to tank the deal hahaha) - anon

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: Hope you like it my love!!! This is based off the latest episode, so spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn't seen it!! Thank you for requesting!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

You cleared your throat, following him through the doorway. Your glass was cold, the stem fragile, the red wine disgusting. Something expensive, Tom had poured, swishing around, threatening to spill. You took one last glance back. They stood huddled together, nodding at you, insisting you go in. You would have rolled your eyes if he hadn’t turned to see you, inviting you in. You smiled, cursing your family. Fuck Kendall, fuck Shiv, fuck Roman, and especially fuck Logan. The door shut behind you, making you jump. Don’t worry, I’m not going to try anything. I just want to talk. His hand fell the small of your back, ever so slightly pushing you along to where the living set sat. Fuck all fo them, you added at the end, over and over again until you were sitting across from him. The room was dark except for a few lamps. One wall was floor to ceiling windows. He had his back turned on the view, as if it didn’t matter, as if the only thing you should be focusing on was him. Shiv’s home had so many rooms, so many ins and outs, it was a wonder she didn’t get lost every day. You couldn’t help yourself, letting your eyes wander over him, above him, to the glittering city. It was too dark to see any details, but that didn’t really matter. It stood grand, solid, daunting in the darkness. Your home, for as long as you’ve been alive. It looked its most perfect at its most blurry, shunned from the daylight. 

He looked tired. That was the first thing you’d noticed about him when he showed up. He wasn’t some godlike creature they all feared he was. He was just some guy in a gold jacket. The bags under his eyes were puffy, as if he hadn’t slept in a while. He brought Ebba and Oskar with him, making fun of them as if that’s what all bosses did. You weren’t sure if you should laugh or not, so you said nothing. Everyone seemed uncomfortable but him. You had Gerri, Frank, and all of your siblings. An army, and for what? This guy? You tried to hide your smile. This was the guy everyone had been worried about? Leave it to them to be dramatic. Jesus, you could have stayed in the home. It was a last minute invitation. Whose idea, you’re not sure. After everything with dad, you were more than happy to tag along. It was a wanted distraction. The thought sent a shiver through your body. This election party was a nice distraction, even if it meant schmoozing with this guy. He shook hands with your brothers, and attempted to hug your sister, stopping at you. His eyes seemed to light up. You went in for a hug, unsure of what else to do, as Kendall introduced you. Y/n, the baby of the Roy family. You’d never met him before. You weren’t even sure he knew you existed. You were as far removed from the company as possible. You just weren’t interested. You had a life outside of all this. You thought everyone should do the same, though the idea isn’t well liked. He likes you, Roman said while you two followed the rest to a private room. Was that true? He just learned your name, and yet, it seemed like he couldn’t take his gaze off you, even if you were the least significant Roy in the room. You had no idea what the deal was, what you were supposed to be rooting for, only that it was worth a lot and it was keeping your brothers up at night. Shut up, you hissed back, really wishing you’d said no. The deal went well in Norway, so you thought this was just a formality. You had no idea it was falling apart behind the scenes. 

It was their plan all along. Kendall and Rome had learned his “type”. He had a weakness for someone who looked like you. It didn’t hurt that you were the youngest, either. Barely legal, Roman always joked, though you were far older than that. They knew bringing you along would help, at least it would offer some sort of distraction, like a parting gift. He gets to talk to you, stare at you, imagine whatever he wanted, and they’d get their deal. All you had to do was stand there and look pretty. You’d figured it out quick enough. You played nice, used your best manners, but they were acting strange about it. They watched your every move, paid close attention to everything you did and said. They waited for him to laugh at your jokes before they found it funny. Lukas seemed distracted by you, too. He lost track of what they were talking about, having to be gently, constantly reminded. Even out on the grass, surrounded by his team, the rest of you left to mingle, he always found his way to you. Rome was right. The more he got to know you, heard your sarcasm, your jokes, your unfiltered thoughts and feelings, the more he seemed to like you. Want you. Over the balcony's edge, he followed you out, stood beside you, asking you questions, needing to know more. What were your interests, your hobbies, why weren't you more involved in the company. They never took their eyes off you, wanting to make sure what you were saying was okay. He wasn’t even supposed to show, but he did, and you were his bait. 

Is he always like that? You ask, taking another rancid sip, Oskar I mean. He was high, obviously, and keen on making everyone he came into contact with uncomfortable. He talked about your body in ways you’d never thought at a political party. Lukas came to your defense immediately, seriously, making him and Ebba jump at his tone. You hadn’t expected him to be so offended on your part, but he seemed genuinely upset, leaving the pair in favor of your company. Like an asshole? Most of the time, yes. He chuckles. I am sorry for his behavior. You force a smile. You should hear what they all say. They’re on their best behavior tonight. There were a few Nazis here, it could have been much worse. He nods, understanding, having gotten a warning speech from your sister about how to act and what to say. He asks how you’re doing with your father. You shrug. No one’s asked you since that night. It still feels unreal. He talks about his own father. You can’t help but notice how human he looks all of a sudden, so fragile, so small. You almost feel bad for him. Despite the situation, being offered up to him like a piece of meat, he’s a kid just like you, like your siblings, pretending to know how to handle this niche slice of adulthood. You make a joke about the wine  that gets you a smile. You become more comfortable with him, letting your shoulders drop, your spine slouch. He speaks of Sweden, how beautiful it is, how much he misses it. About his past relationships, that they never seemed to work out. About your family, how messy they are. You can’t help but agree. Not just your siblings, though it was a miracle you were all in the same room without fighting, but your father and mother. He was cruel and took pleasure in pinning you against one another. She was absent and yet so needy, unstable. You talk about your past relationships, how hard it was to find someone who wanted you, not your money or your name. An hour has gone by before you know it. You didn’t mean to tell him all of this, to open up, it just happened. 

Do you want to go back to the party? He asks, eyeing the door. Not really, you think. You can hear the murmur of guests just outside. All of them trying their best to smile and get along. Tomorrow they’ll be at one another's throats. Do you? He shakes his head no. It’s more fun here. That makes heat rush to your face. The conversation flows without any hiccups. Where you want to travel next, what you wanted to be when you were a kid, all your thoughts about the next presidential candidate, favorite ice cream toppings. You spoke about everything and anything. His laugh came easy, especially at your jokes. It was one of the things he liked most about you, your humor. He told you things he wasn’t proud of, things you’d later realize information  your brothers would have killed for. Nothing big, nothing scary, just personal fears. He trusted you with this. You wouldn’t tell another soul. You liked him a hell of a lot more than when you first met. He was more of a person, not just a walking conglomerate. His company was even enjoyable. He had absolutely no filter and said some outrageous things, but in a world like yours, that was normal. The only reason you even stopped was because of a knock at the door. Shiv wore a tight smile, asking if she could speak to Lukas alone. Behind her, Kendall and Rome watched. I’ll see you soon, he promised, don’t stray too far. You nodded, getting up, leaving the room. You couldn’t read your brother's expressions, but it didn’t look good. Wordlessly, they took your arm, leading you far from the room. What the fuck? I was doing what you said to, you said once you were alone, pulling yourself from their tight grips. Roman rolled his eyes. Not everything is about you. Did he tell you about the blood and hair? What the fuck was he talking about? The shock on your face was enough to convince them. They began speaking at the same time. Fucking Matsson has been sending. . . stuff to his ex-girlfriend. I don’t want you going near him again. His numbers are all wrong, they’re all made up. Never should have used you like this. Fraud. Deal. Freak. What were they talking about? You looked down the hall, through the open doorway, where Shiv is talking to him. She looked angry, upset. He seemed content, even jovial, laughing at himself. Was this true? You wouldn't believe it. He seemed like such a nice guy.

[tomwambsgans]

i'm honestly kinda surprised that the most popular answer on that poll was that greg drops hirsch and takes wambsgans. it has me wondering how many of the ppl who chose that think so bc they think that greg specifically doesn't like having any connection to his dad (which i don't believe, tho i think his relationship w his dad is/was very complicated)... vs how many just default to a view of greg as the "woman" of the relationship vs how many maybe just figure that greg would defer to tom bc he doesn't care as much as tom does.

i think the most valid reasoning by far is that last one, and i do believe that tom would care about keeping wambsgans in a relationship that's not based around pragmatism. but i also do think that tom would still be open to the same discussion that he wanted to have with shiv. like the fact alone that he phrased it like that with her tells me that tom doesn't just default to one idea about last names. he knows that there are multiple options that are acceptable, and he's not gonna revert to a conservative mindset in a literal gay relationship.

most importantly i sincerely do not think that tom would specifically want greg to drop hirsch. i don't think it would even occur to him to ask him to. he'd come at it similiarly to how he said it to shiv: "which way do we wanna hyphenate?" - bc if it got to the point of an actual marriage, tom is obviously seeing greg as an equal.

now, if greg outright said "actually i was thinking i wanna just take wambsgans" then tom would def break down in happy tears. and maybe greg would say that. i can see greg thinking primarily of aesthetics with a sort of "could take or leave it" attitude about his surname, and it's totally plausible to me that he'd figure a hyphenated name was just too much and would just prefer to keep it relatively simple, and that he'd subsequently decide he doesn't like the sound of "tom hirsch" that much. personally i voted that they hyphen on each other's names respectively, but that's just the most likely imo. i think greg dropping hirsch would rely on him being the first to bring it up.

anyway actually most of all i wanna pick the brain of the 2 ppl who said tom drops wambsgans and takes hirsch. i'm not saying it couldn't happen i just genuinely wanna know your reasoning

[hunzzzzz]

Tell me sweet little lies: part 6

Summary: During a tense weekend in the Hamptons, Diane's pursuit of a story involving Kendall Roy takes a turn. Diane's journalistic detachment wavers, replaced by growing empathy. The escalating emotions of the weekend threaten to overwhelm her.

TW: smut on the beach, face sitting, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation

A/N: oooohh Kendall is so baby girl, I just want to give him a big hug

🦋🐟🐬🐠🧢🐳🩵👕🖌️🛋️🫂🎽🐋💦🌊💧🧊🪼🫐

Kendall watched Diane shift restlessly beside him, the moonlight from the window painting her face in stark contrasts of light and shadow. "Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Nope," she yawned, her eyes wide and dark. "You?"

He turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Same here. Just… a lot on my mind."

Diane turned to face him, her brow furrowed slightly. "What is it?"

He sighed, a sound heavy with the weight of years. "Oh, you know. Just ever shitty thing that's happened since I can remember."

Diane's lips curved into a small, sympathetic smile. "Yeah, like what?"

"Like the time when I was 7, I got a dog for my birthday. A little golden retriever puppy I named Scout. I was obsessed with him. He was my best friend, the only thing in my life that felt genuinely mine, unconditionally loving. One afternoon, I was walking him in the park, and I let him off the leash for just a second. He ran off, chasing a squirrel. I searched for hours, called his name until my voice was hoarse. I never found him. My parents didn't care. They just said, 'It's just a dog,' and got me a new one a few weeks later— but it wasn’t the same. Nothing could ever replace Scout; he was precious."

"Or sparring with my dad… he used to make me box with him, at the ripe age of, what, 10? 11? He’d put on these old, worn-out gloves, and tell me to ‘toughen up.’ He wouldn’t hold back. Not really. He’d hit me hard enough to bruise, sometimes. One time, he knocked me down, and I remember just lying there on the floor, staring up at him. He just stood over me, saying ‘You're not hurt. Get up.’ It wasn’t about teaching me to defend myself. It was about… proving something. To himself, I guess. That he was strong. That I was weak. That I was his to break." He ran a hand through his hair, a flicker of pain crossing his features. 

Diane's eyes widened, a genuine sympathy in their depths. "Oh Kendall, that's… awful."

A bitter chuckle escaped Kendall's lips. "Oh, and how could I ever forget the custody battle… they lined us up, me, Shiv, and Rome, and picked us, one by one, like we were being auctioned off. I was the last one left. The 'leftover.' My mom was so mortified—more by the optics, I think, than by my actual feelings—that she renegotiated the whole thing just to avoid taking me." He shook his head, the memory still sharp after all these years.

“I’m sorry, Kendall.” Diane whispered.

"That's just the tip of the iceberg," he said, his voice flat, almost devoid of emotion. "When I was thirteen, my first girlfriend admitted she only dated me to climb the social ladder. Dumped me the second she realized I wasn't going to get her into the 'in' crowd. It wasn't even personal, really. I was just a means to an end." He shrugged, but the gesture didn't quite mask the lingering hurt. 

"And then, a few years later, my grandfather, who was like a father to me—the only father I ever truly knew—got sick. I spent months visiting him in the hospital, watching him fade away. The day he died, I was supposed to give a presentation in class. I went anyway, thinking I could compartmentalize. I got halfway through, broke down in front of everyone, and ran out of the room. I never finished the presentation. I never even went back to that class."

"But you learned from it, right?" Diane said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. Her fingers were cool against his skin. “You wouldn’t be who you are today if you didn’t get such tough skin from all of that, right?”

Kendall gave a wry, humorless smile. "I learned that some people are users. I learned that even hard work can lead to disaster. I learned that grief can hit you at the most inconvenient times. I learned that my own father saw me as something to conquer, not to nurture. And that sometimes, even your own mother can’t bear to look at you. I don't think a kid needs to learn all that. I should have been worried about algebra, not social manipulation and the casual cruelty of the people who were supposed to protect me." He looked at Diane, his eyes searching, pleading for understanding. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"No," she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I like listening to you." She pulled her hand back, tucking it under the covers. In the dim light, Kendall couldn't see the way her fingers were twisting the fabric of the sheet.

"What about you?" he asked gently. "What's keeping you up?"

Diane hesitated, her heart pounding against her ribs. The image of the box, the tape, the crimson stain on the rough cloth, the file , flashed through her mind. I killed him. It was an accident. The words echoed in her head, a chilling mantra. She swallowed hard, forcing them back down. She glanced at Kendall, at the genuine concern in his eyes, and a wave of guilt washed over her.

"Just… a light sleeper." she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. She pulled the covers up to her chin, as if trying to shield herself from his questions. It wasn't a lie, not entirely, but the truth was buried beneath layers of fear and desperation.

"Oh, shit my bad. I’m sorry for waking you, I uh, I sometimes get night terrors.” He muttered an apology, feeling guilty. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “I was just worried about you.”

“Don't let me keep you up. You need your precious beauty sleep.” He gently brushed her hair away from her forehead, his touch lingering.

When Kendall looked at Diane, a feeling bloomed in his chest, unfamiliar and potent. Was it love? A terrifying, exhilarating possibility. He’d never known it, not from Logan Roy, a man whose billions couldn’t buy him an ounce of paternal warmth. Logan’s affection was transactional, reserved for business deals and power plays, never for his children. 

And his mother, Caroline… Caroline was a ghost in his life, a beautiful, brittle creature more concerned with her social standing than her offspring. She’d never breastfed her children, couldn't be bothered with the messy, intimate act of nurturing. From the moment they were born, they were handed off to a rotating cast of nannies and maids, their cries and needs a mere inconvenience to her perfectly manicured existence.

He’d spent his life chasing his parents’ approval, believing achievement would unlock their love. He’d excelled in school, captained the lacrosse team, pursued every venture his father suggested, hoping to finally earn a flicker of recognition, a word of praise. But their indifference had become a constant hum in the background of his life, a confirmation of his inherent unworthiness. Their eyes, when they did fall on him, held a chilling emptiness, as if they were looking through him, not at him. After the divorce, Caroline had all but vanished, choosing to settle for sprawling estates and lucrative investments rather than fight for custody. Land and property held more value to her than her own children. It was a stark, brutal message: they were disposable.

Even his marriage to Rava, a logical, expected step, had lacked a spark. It was a union born of societal pressure and a desperate attempt to create a semblance of normalcy, not love. Fatherhood, too, had failed to fill the void, overshadowed by Logan’s dismissive attitude towards his grandchildren, treating them as pawns in his ongoing power games.

Then there was Diane. At first, a welcome distraction, a brief respite from the crushing weight of his family’s legacy. Now… something more. She didn’t demand perfection or offer conditional acceptance like his family. Their shared experiences of childhood pain, though different in their specifics, resonated deeply. They understood the unspoken language of neglect, the constant ache of feeling unseen. Unlike Rava, who tried to mold him into a version of himself she found acceptable, Diane simply listened . She saw him, the real him, with all his flaws and insecurities. With Rava, he’d always worn a mask, playing the role of the successful husband and father, a performance he could never quite perfect, especially with his father’s critical gaze always in his mind.

Diane had found him in the depths of despair. The night they met, he was a wreck, a monument to self-destruction, lost in a haze of expensive whiskey, crushed pills, and a self-loathing that gnawed at him from the inside out. He’d been on the verge of oblivion, teetering on the precipice of something dark and irreversible. But instead of recoiling like everyone else—the concerned glances that quickly turned to averted eyes, the hushed whispers of “poor Kendall,” the thinly veiled disgust—she’d offered a brief respite from his agony. 

And it wasn't just that one night. It was the weeks that followed, the slow, agonizing unraveling of Vaulter, the public humiliation, the feeling of utter failure that threatened to consume him. He’d expected her to disappear, to join the chorus of disappointed voices, to add her name to the long list of people who had abandoned him. But she didn't. When he was down in the dumps, curled up in the fetal position on his couch, reeking of stale liquor and despair, she stayed. She didn't try to fix him, didn't offer empty platitudes or unsolicited advice. She simply sat with him, a silent presence in his storm. She offered comfort in small gestures: a hand on his shoulder, a gentle stroke of his hair, a massage; her touch was a welcome distraction—only she could make him feel good..

He’d never known such kindness, such unwavering acceptance. His past relationships had been built on performance, on the expectation that he would always be the strong one, the successful one, the one who had it all together. With Diane, there were no expectations, no masks to maintain. He could be his broken, flawed self, and she wouldn't flinch.

Kendall was falling in love, a sensation entirely new to him, a terrifying and exhilarating freefall. He’d never known such a profound connection, such a deep and abiding affection. The love he’d witnessed had always been conditional, transactional, a tool for manipulation or a means to an end. He’d always doubted his capacity for love, his worthiness of it, convinced that he was incapable of giving or receiving such a pure and vulnerable emotion. Yet, here he was, feeling it for the first time.

And he would do anything to keep this woman in his life. The feeling he felt was aggressive and fraught— he wanted her with panic and passion. 

————————————————————————-

Kendall woke up in the predawn hours, sleep eluding him. He watched Diane, her peaceful form curled away from him. A surge of affection washed over him, and he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her protectively. Soon, he was lulled back to sleep by the warmth of her body.

The first slivers of dawn pierced the curtains, painting the room in shades of grey. Diane stirred, her eyes snapping open. She was trapped, a prisoner in Kendall’s suffocating embrace. His grip was a vise. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, a low rumble against her ear.

“Let me up,” she said, a tremor in her voice as she tried to subtly pry his fingers loose.

“You’re so warm,” he protested, his hold tightening, a possessive edge creeping into his tone. “What’s the rush?”

Panic flared in Diane’s chest. Under her pillow, hidden from view, lay the box– the box containing the evidence. She had to move it, now. Before he saw. “I just… I like to start my day early,” she stammered, forcing a lightness into her voice, desperately trying to coax him out of bed, away from the pillow.

“Five more minutes,” he groaned, pulling her even closer, his breath hot on her neck.

“You’re such a diva,” she teased, a brittle laugh escaping her lips. Inside, her mind raced, calculating, strategizing. The seconds ticked by like hammer blows.

Kendall held her captive for what felt like an eternity, a suffocating closeness that made her skin crawl. Finally, with a sigh of exaggerated reluctance, he relented, but only after she promised him a “special present” and whispered promises of making him “feel good” after his shower – a promise that tasted like ash in her mouth.

The moment he was out of sight, the bathroom door clicking shut, Diane lunged for the pillow. Her fingers closed around the box, cold and hard in her trembling hand. She shoved it deep into her bag. A wave of nausea washed over her. This trip. This charade. It was all about uncovering the truth behind the cruise scandal, a truth buried deep beneath layers of lies and deceit. The stakes were higher than she’d ever imagined. This information was crucial, not just for her article, but for something much bigger. She took a shaky breath, steeling her resolve. No matter the cost.

When Kendall emerged, freshly showered and radiating an oblivious charm, Diane was already in the kitchen, forcing herself to appear calm and collected.

“I was promised a reward?” Kendall announced, a playful grin spreading across his face. 

“Yes, you were,” Diane replied, a smirk playing on her lips. She slid a mug of steaming coffee towards him across the counter. “I made you coffee.” Of course, she knew he was expecting something more than coffee.

“You played me,” he pouted, his playful tone not quite masking a hint of disappointment.

“I never specified anything,” she giggled, her tone light and teasing.

“Maybe you just need some energy,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling with a playful light. He took a sip of the coffee, then set the mug down with a decisive clink. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

It was the last thing she wanted. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to flee, to return home with the file and the box, to dissect every piece of evidence, to finally break this story wide open. The need for a breakthrough was a burning obsession. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She forced a smile, a mask of compliance. 

“Sure,” she agreed, her voice light and airy. She knew she had to play along, at least for now.

—————————————————————————

“Where are we going?” Diane asked, watching the blossoming trees blur past the window. She rolled it down, welcoming the spring breeze that tousled her hair, a fleeting moment of normalcy in the tense undercurrent between them.

Breakfast had been a strained affair. Kendall, clearly exhausted from a restless night, yawned incessantly, a stark contrast to his usual vibrant self. He pushed through it, though, his gaze fixed on Diane, as if her mere presence could ward off his fatigue. Spending time with her was paramount.

“It’s a surprise,” Kendall said, glancing at her, a look of almost unsettling adoration in his eyes. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, a flicker of suspicion igniting within her.

“Well,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “your horoscope said you were going to have a day full of nostalgia and adventures. It said you’d spend it with a special someone.” He winked, the gesture feeling strangely heavy.

“Bullshit,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “You’re winding me up. Ha ha.” The laugh felt forced, brittle.

“I’m not,” he insisted earnestly. “That’s what it said on Elle, swear on my life.”

“But you don’t even believe in that stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes, trying to decipher if this was some elaborate joke, or something far more unsettling.

“Yeah, but you do, so it doesn’t matter what I think,” he replied, taking her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, resting their joined hands in her lap. The casual intimacy felt like a violation.

“You’re creeping me out now, seriously,” she rolled her eyes. “What is this secret location you’re taking me to?” 

The unease wasn’t just about the mystery destination. It was about his sudden, intense focus on her, the way he seemed to be cataloging her every like and dislike. It was a dangerous game he was playing, a slippery slope that would inevitably lead to probing questions, intimate inquiries that she couldn’t afford.

Diane was always on edge around Kendall, a constant state of vigilance. She could never let her guard down, every word carefully weighed, every action meticulously planned. The risk of her cover being blown was a constant, suffocating pressure. The strain was taking its toll, a stark contrast to the easy comfort Kendall seemed to radiate in her presence. He was free, open, while she was trapped in a cage of her own making.

“Relax, you’re so tense,” he said, squeezing her hand again, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Mhmm,” Diane mumbled, offering a weak, uneasy smile.

Finally, Kendall parked the car. He climbed out, then rounded the vehicle, opening Diane’s door, offering his hand to help her out. As the building came into view, her breath caught in her throat. It was an aquarium. A genuine smile touched her lips.

“I know your Pisces quirks,” he smirked, a smug satisfaction in his voice, pulling her towards the entrance. “You love water.” The casual observation, the way he’d filed away this small detail about her, sent another wave of unease through her. This wasn’t just a date. It was something else. Something she couldn’t quite define, but it felt like a trap closing around her.

The aquarium was a kaleidoscope of blues and greens, a mesmerizing underwater world teeming with life. Diane was captivated. Schools of shimmering fish darted past coral reefs, rays glided effortlessly through the water, and majestic sharks patrolled their domain. For a brief, precious moment, she forgot about the box, the lies, the constant vigilance. She was simply Diane, a woman enjoying the wonders of the ocean.

They watched playful sea otters tumble over each other, their sleek bodies twirling in the water. They stood mesmerized by the graceful ballet of jellyfish, their translucent forms pulsating with an ethereal glow. They even braved the touch tank, Diane hesitantly reaching out to stroke the rough skin of a starfish. Laughter bubbled up from her, genuine and unrestrained, a sound Kendall drank in like a man parched in a desert.

But the idyllic atmosphere began to shift as Kendall’s curiosity, previously charming, turned into something more intense. He started asking questions, probing beneath the surface, wanting to know the real Diane, the woman hidden behind the carefully constructed façade.

“What’s your favorite exhibit so far?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her, searching.

“Probably the beluga whales,” she replied, her gaze still on the massive white creatures swimming in their tank. “They’re so intelligent.”

“Like you,” he murmured, then, more pointedly, “So uh, what do you do for fun? You love the water, I know that much, but what else?”

The question hung in the air, the lightheartedness of the moment dissipating. Diane hesitated. “I… I don’t really have much time for fun,” she said, a half-truth slipping past her lips. “Work keeps me pretty busy.”

“You’re always working,” he observed, a hint of concern in his voice. “Don’t you have any friends? People you hang out with?”

“Not really,” Diane paused, considering her response. “I mean, I have friends,” she corrected herself, a slight catch in her throat. “I do. But I… I just don’t have time for them. I can’t explain it. When I’m with them, all I’m thinking about is the next project at work. I’m there, but not really there. Work alway has and will be my number one priority.”

It was the truth. Diane’s work ethic was relentless, bordering on obsessive. Late nights in the office were the norm, not the exception. She refused to leave until she was satisfied, driven by an internal engine that never seemed to run out of fuel.

This drive stemmed from her upbringing. Raised by hard working parents, she had learned the value of perseverance and dedication from a young age. Both her mother and father had worked tirelessly to provide her with the best life possible. Her mother, a dedicated nurse, often picked up extra shifts around holidays like her birthday and Christmas, sacrificing precious time to afford her the most luxurious gifts. Her father, a hardworking businessman who ran a small advertising company, had saved every penny from the day she was born to fund her college education. “You’re destined for greatness,” he would often tell her, instilling in her a deep belief in her own potential.

Driven by a potent mix of ambition and gratitude, Diane had excelled in her studies. Her near-perfect GPA had opened doors, leading her to a successful career in journalism. She poured her heart and soul into her work, striving for excellence in everything she did. This relentless drive was the reason she was so immersed in this current article, the cruise scandal. She had been promised a promotion, a reward she could almost taste. But beneath the professional ambition lay a deeper motivation: to make her parents proud. She wanted to show them that their sacrifices, their tireless efforts, hadn’t been in vain. She had to.

Kendall’s expression clouded slightly. “That’s… kind of sad,” he said softly. “Everyone needs someone.”

“My parents— my mom, she sacrificed everything for me,” she said, her voice softening. “That’s why I work so hard. I can’t let her down.”

“So that’s what drives you?” Kendall asked, his voice gentle. “The need to make them proud?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly. “I guess it is.”

The conversation had taken a decidedly personal turn. Diane felt exposed, vulnerable. She had revealed more than she intended, offering glimpses into her past, half-truths woven with genuine emotion. Kendall, on the other hand, seemed satisfied, a small smile playing on his lips. He had learned something new about her, something he thought brought them closer. But for Diane, it was a dangerous game, a tightrope walk between truth and deception, and she knew she couldn’t keep it up forever.

“I… I can relate to that, Diane,” Kendall said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. “My dad… I was never good enough for him. Still amn’t.” He looked away, his gaze lost in the swirling water of a nearby tank, as if re-living a painful memory. “I spent my whole life trying to make him proud. But I always fail. Every single time.”

He recounted a harrowing memory, his voice laced with bitterness. “Even after he had the stroke… I went to see him once he woke up. He could barely speak, but he still managed to call me a ‘fucking moron.’ Even on his deathbed, he couldn’t bring himself to say he was proud.” A shudder ran through him. “I’m terrified,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “Terrified that his dying words will be that I’m a failure.”

The raw emotion in his voice was unsettling. Diane, ever the opportunist, saw a chance to delve deeper, to gather more information about Logan Roy, the man behind the monster. This wasn't about genuine empathy; it was about the story, the information she desperately needed.

“Why?” she asked, her voice soft, feigning concern. “Why did you let him treat you like that?”

Kendall hesitated, a flicker of pain crossing his face. He looked at Diane, his eyes filled with a deep, almost desperate need for understanding. “He’s holding some shit over my head, to control me,” he admitted, his voice strained. 

Diane’s pulse quickened. This was it. This was the opening she’d been waiting for. His confession he murmured in his sleep last night: “I killed him. It was an accident.” 

“What is it?” she pressed gently, her voice laced with feigned sympathy. She had to tread carefully; pushing too hard would raise suspicion.

Kendall looked away again, his expression a mixture of shame and fear. He remained silent for a long moment, the only sound the gentle hum of the aquarium’s filtration system. The tension in the air was palpable.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t… It’s nothing… never mind,” he said, shaking his head slowly. 

She softened her expression, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Diane pressed further, her mind racing, trying to find a new angle to extract the information she craved. She remembered Kendall’s restless night, his night terror. “Was that what your nightmare was about last night?” she asked, her voice soft and concerned, tilting her head slightly. “Your dad?”

Kendall flinched, a visible ripple of discomfort passing over his face. He looked away, his gaze darting around the aquarium, landing on nothing in particular. The playful sea otters, the graceful jellyfish, the imposing sharks – none of it seemed to register. He was lost in his own private world of pain and fear.

He hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “No,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “It wasn’t about him.”

The curt response hung in the air, a clear signal that the subject was closed. Diane could see the shutters coming down, the walls rising back up around him. He wasn’t going to offer any more information, not willingly.

She tried a different tack, softening her tone, feigning a casual interest. “Nightmares can be so strange,” she said, forcing a light chuckle. “Sometimes they’re just random images and feelings, not really about anything specific.”

Kendall remained silent, his gaze fixed on the swirling water of a nearby tank. He didn’t respond, didn’t offer any further explanation. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Kendall abruptly changed the topic, the shift in his mood almost jarring. “Let’s go play with the penguins,” he announced, a forced lightness in his voice. He reached for Diane’s hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, and began walking briskly in their direction, as if trying to outpace the heavy emotions that had just hung between them.

As they walked, Diane’s mind replayed everything Kendall had just revealed. A strange feeling stirred within her, something she hadn’t anticipated. A flicker of… empathy? It was an unwelcome sensation, a crack in the carefully constructed wall she had built around herself. Kendall, the man she had pegged as powerful, perhaps even villainous, suddenly appeared different. He seemed like a little boy trapped in a man’s body, a broken soul struggling beneath a surface of wealth and privilege.

She saw him now, not as the entitled heir she had imagined, but as a victim of circumstance. He was trapped under the oppressive weight of his father, unable to break free. The image of the spoiled rich bachelor began to crumble, replaced by a more nuanced, complex picture. Perhaps his behavior, his flaws, were a direct result of his upbringing, of the tyrannical figure that loomed over his life.

Diane was slowly peeling back his layers, uncovering the pain and hurt he carried deep within. A father who was a tyrant, wielding his power like a weapon. His mother hadn’t just left; she had abandoned them. Abandoned him and his siblings in the midst of a bitter divorce, choosing material possessions, property, over her own children. A brother who had betrayed him, a wound that cut deeper than any physical injury. It was a devastating combination, a recipe for deep-seated trauma. The image of a villain that she had expected dissolved completely, replaced by the stark reality of a deeply wounded child.

Kendall hadn’t just been through a “terrible childhood”; he had endured a series of profound betrayals, wounds that had clearly never healed. It wasn’t just about being rich and privileged; it was about the absence of love, the lack of emotional support, the deep-seated feeling of being unwanted.

The penguins, with their comical waddle and playful antics, provided a temporary distraction. Diane was genuinely delighted by their antics, she pointed out their individual quirks, laughing as they slipped and slid on the ice. Kendall found himself smiling, drawn in by her infectious enthusiasm, his earlier melancholy momentarily forgotten.

But even as Diane laughed alongside him, the feeling of empathy lingered. It was a disconcerting sensation, one she struggled to reconcile with her mission. She was supposed to be objective, focused on the story, not emotionally invested in the subject. Yet, she couldn’t deny the shift in her perception of Kendall. He was no longer just a source of information, a pawn– but he was also a victim. 

The game had changed. It wasn't just about getting the story anymore; it was about something much more complicated, something she couldn't quite define.

—————————————————————————-

The afternoon was a promise of summer, a taste of the warmth to come. The Hamptons air, still carrying a hint of spring’s crispness, held the faintest whisper of salt and blooming beach roses. The sky, a brilliant, almost blinding blue, stretched endlessly overhead, the sun a benevolent presence warming their skin. From her perch on the yacht, Diane’s gaze swept across the scene: the coastline, a gentle curve of sand dunes and swaying beach grass, punctuated by the stately homes that lined the shore, their weathered shingles gleaming in the sunlight. The water, a vibrant turquoise, shimmered and danced, reflecting the sun’s rays like a thousand tiny diamonds. A few early sailboats, their white sails billowing in the gentle breeze, dotted the horizon, harbingers of the summer fleet soon to arrive.

Kendall, however, remained oblivious to the beauty surrounding him, lost in a deep, much-needed slumber. He was sprawled across a cushioned sunbed, his face turned towards the sun, absorbing its warmth like a cat basking in a sunbeam. He’d been wound tight all morning, a restless energy simmering beneath his usually controlled exterior, but the gentle rocking of the yacht and the warmth of the afternoon had finally coaxed him into a state of rare tranquility. His head rested comfortably on Diane’s bare thighs, his dark hair tousled, a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw.

Diane, seated on the edge of the sunbed, a well-worn paperback resting open in her lap, sipped her Prosecco, the tiny bubbles a pleasant tickle against her lips. The sun warmed her skin, but she was mindful of Kendall’s fair complexion. Every so often, she’d squeeze a generous dollop of high-SPF sunscreen onto her hand and gently rub it into his exposed back, her touch light and careful, avoiding the faint scars that marred his skin – she wondered how he got them, was his father so cruel?

He stirred in his sleep, a soft murmur escaping his lips. “Mmm… thanks,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He shifted slightly, nuzzling his face deeper into her thigh, a small, almost childlike gesture. For the first time in his life, someone was truly taking care of him, protecting him, not from physical harm, but from the constant, gnawing anxieties that plagued his mind. It was a small, almost insignificant act of care, but in its simplicity, it felt profoundly significant.

—————————————————————————-

After the sunset, they returned to the shore, the last vestiges of daylight painting the sky in hues of fading rose and soft lavender. Fine grains of sand clung to their skin. Diane was sprawled comfortably beside him on a beach blanket, his oversized Yale sweatshirt draped over her bikini, the sleeves swallowed by her small hands. 

It was a stark contrast to her usual meticulously curated appearance— the tailored skirts that skimmed her knees, the crisp blouses buttoned just so, the subtle but perfectly applied makeup that enhanced her features. This casual, almost childlike version of Diane, with her hair tousled by the sea breeze and her face bare of makeup. 

He knew it was pathetic, this almost obsessive focus on her appearance. He was a man who commanded boardrooms, negotiated billion-dollar deals, and yet, he was utterly captivated by the way the fading light caught the curve of her cheek, by the way her bare feet ruffled in the sand. He was pathetic, he knew that, and yet he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. Not at this moment. Not when she looked like this.

She looked so perfect, it was bordering on painful. It was a low, simmering ache in his gut, a tightening in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He swore it was driving him clinically insane. So good that it was making his genius brain, the one that could dissect complex financial models and strategize corporate takeovers, malfunction. And, if he was being brutally honest with himself, it was also making his downstairs ‘brain’ run on overdrive.

She began to trace patterns in the sky with her finger, her voice soft and hushed, as if sharing a sacred secret. “See that bright one there?” she asked, pointing towards a star just beginning to pierce the twilight. “That’s Arcturus, one of the brightest stars in the spring sky. It’s part of the constellation Boötes, the herdsman. You can find it by following the arc of the Big Dipper’s handle.”

Kendall followed her gaze, his eyes drawn to the emerging point of light. The sky was still transitioning from day to night, a gradient of deep blues and purples, making the few visible stars seem all the more precious. “It’s just starting to come out,” he murmured, a genuine sense of wonder in his voice.

Diane smiled, her eyes reflecting the nascent starlight. “Exactly,” she said. “It’s a sign of spring, a promise of warmer nights to come. And over there,” she continued, shifting her finger slightly, “that’s Leo, the lion. See how it kind of looks like a backwards question mark? Regulus is its brightest star, marking the lion’s heart.” She traced the constellation’s shape in the sky, her finger moving with a graceful precision. “It’s a powerful image, a symbol of strength and courage.”

“Strength,” Kendall repeated, the word catching in his throat. He’d spent so much of his life trying to project an image of strength, a mask that was constantly threatening to slip. The idea of genuine inner strength, the kind that Diane seemed to possess effortlessly, felt like a distant, unattainable dream.

“Yeah,” Diane said, her gaze still fixed on the heavens. “And if you look a little further down, you can see Virgo, associated with the harvest, another sign of the coming abundance of summer. Spring is all about new beginnings, right? A time for things to grow and bloom.” She paused, taking a deep breath of the cool, fragrant air. “It makes you think about possibilities, about what could be.”

Her words, her quiet enthusiasm, had a grounding effect on Kendall. The emerging stars, the ancient stories woven into the constellations, the promise of spring’s renewal, created a space outside of his own anxieties. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt present, connected to something larger than himself, anchored to the earth beneath him. The sand beneath him felt solid, the cool spring air on his skin felt refreshing, and the woman beside him, with her quiet wisdom and gentle spirit, felt like a lifeline in the encroaching darkness.

Kendall admired Diane’s side profile, she was beautiful, not in the polished, calculated way she often presented herself to the world, but in a raw, natural way that took his breath away. Spring was in the air, and it seemed to have breathed new life into her as well. The moonlight cast long shadows across the sand, illuminating the delicate curve of Diane’s cheek, the soft curve of her lips. 

"You look so beautiful," Kendall murmured, his voice low and husky, the sound barely audible above the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. He leaned in, gently cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly across her cheekbones. His touch was feather-light, hesitant, as if he were afraid she might shatter if he held her too tightly. And then he kissed her.

The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like a question being asked rather than a statement being made. Gentle. Nothing rushed. It wasn't the kind of kiss they'd shared before. Their previous encounters had been charged with a different kind of energy, a raw, almost desperate urgency fueled by lust, by the heat of the moment during sex. Those kisses had been demanding, possessive, frantic. 

This was different. This was tender, almost hesitant, a soft exploration rather than a passionate conquest. It was the first time they had kissed like this, fully clothed. The lines blurred in Diane’s mind; this felt dangerously close to real. 

She pulled back slightly, a flicker of confusion, perhaps even a hint of fear, in her eyes. 

Kendall, sensing her hesitation, didn't pull away. He simply stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes a silent plea, a desperate yearning for something he couldn't quite articulate. He wanted this connection, this moment, to be real, to mean something. He so desperately wanted the heavens above to answer the silent prayer in his heart, to grant him this one thing he craved above all else: genuine, unconditional love.

Diane got lost in his hazel eyes, those pools of vulnerability and longing. Against her better judgment, she leaned back in, her own hand reaching up to touch his arm. Their lips met again, this time with a greater sense of urgency, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Their lips moved in sync, it felt bizarre, wrong on so many levels. This wasn't supposed to happen. But for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to forget about her plan.

Kendall was kissing her like he was terrified. Terrified he would wake up and it would’ve all been a dream, a fleeting mirage in the desert of his loneliness. He held onto her as if she might disappear at any moment, his lips pressing against hers with a desperate, almost frantic tenderness. He rolled them over, a slow, deliberate movement that shifted their positions on the beach. Now, Diane straddled his hips, her knees sinking slightly into the cool, damp grains of sand. 

“Sit on my face,” Kendall pleaded, squeezing her ass. She frowned as he laid his head down, getting cozy with his head on the sand, still smirking, patting his mouth comically—an invitation. 

“What?” Diane asked not sure what to make of his unusual request. She knew it was a private beach but it still felt too exposed.

When she didn’t move he lifted his head back up, “Come on,” he urged her, tapping her hips to nudge her along, “let me taste you. Sit. On. My. Face.”

Kendall couldn't resist not eating her out whenever he had the chance. She slowly crawled up over him, hesitating once she was straddling his chest, unable to hold back a blush. His warm hands are quick to hook around her thighs, sliding his thumb over her hip bones as she hovered in front of his chin, “come closer.”

He lifted his head up when she finally scooted forward, still hovering. Kendall kissed her inner thigh, smirking as her hips bucked lower towards his touch. 

“Sacred I’m gonna bite?” His lips moved against her thigh, his stubble tickling her as he spoke.

“No, I don’t want to suffocate you.” She pushed her fingers through his hair, gripping at his roots.

“I wish you would, ” he groaned, pulling her lower so he didn’t have to crane his neck to taste her. He licked the wet spot on her bikini, lapping at her juices, moaning before flattening his tongue, dragging it up to her clit to suck lightly through the fabric. 

It wasn’t long before had enough of the thin material blocking his way, aggressively pulling on the strings over her hips to untie it, so he could finally lick her how he wanted. Which she quickly realized was mercilessly. He was hungry—starved for something only her pussy could satiate, drinking her in like he was dehydrated. It was intense. He ate with reverence, slurping loudly and humming in appreciation, his hot lips suctioning on her clit till she was seeing stars. 

Diane’s feedback was choppy, like her brain couldn’t sync up in time to react to his movements— to the sensations. It was all broken moans and shudders, the only thing consistent is the way she pulled his hair.

She was leaning more and more of her weight onto his face and rocking , occasionally lifting a bit when she remembered her self-control. But after she lifted one too many times, Kendall’s fingers tightened around her thighs, holding her close with an ironclad grip— making her squirm.

Kendall was delighted as he peered up at her beneath drunk lashes, eyes just as dazed as his mind as he watched her sumptuous body move on top of him. She tasted like cloyingly honey on the tip of his tongue, her essence lingering in the back of his throat every time he swallowed. He chased the slick beads as they dripped down her plump thighs, greedy mouth attacking her soft insides as she moaned on top of him, her pussy drooling and clenching around nothing as the hot coil inside of her twisted tighter. He groaned against her searing skin, his hot breath tickling her sensitive flesh as every hair on the nape of her neck stood up.

"So beautiful" Kendall muttered, voice dripping with reverence. "You look so beautiful tonight."

He etched the intimate scene into his mind as a pleasant itch tingled at the base of his skull, fingers twitching around her plump hips as he squeezed the pillowy soft skin. His tongue lapped at the dripping seam of her cunt; prying open the puffy folds as indulged in more of your slick nectar flowing from her core like a river. 

Diane almost choked on a hiccup of pleasure, her clit weakly kicking against the press of his nose as he sealed his mouth over her entrance. Her blood simmered in her veins, pulling and tugging on his raven locks, hips shaking as she tried to contain her sudden spike in arousal twisting low in the pit of her gut. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of her lashes as stars swirled in her vision, voice stinging her throat as she struggled to breathe. 

Her legs trembled, her full weight failing upon his lips and tongue—and Kendall couldn’t have been more grateful . It didn't take long for his mouth to become sloppy,  drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. 

Diane’s vision began to blur. She couldn’t tell if it was from tears welling up or the overwhelming sensation building in her core. She was dripping so, so sweetly, and Kendall beneath her hummed, hungry, ravenous, he needed more, he wanted to eat her whole. His tongue slowly circled her bud, and oh fuck, he pulled and it tugged in it, opening the floodgates. The building pressure unfurled, Diane threw her head back, whimpering. And kendall drank it all in.

But he didn’t stop there. He wasn’t done just yet.

He held her in place, still latched onto her clit as she rode out her orgasm. Because cumming once wasn’t enough for him. It didn’t matter that his chin was wet with her, that his tongue was soaked with the taste of her. Kendall wanted to wrack her body until she had nothing left to give. So he kept on sucking and swirling his tongue around her clit, until she came again and again until she was spent, until she screamed without sound, until the stars behind her eyelids faded away into black.

Her hips convulsed around him, putting him in a headlock of sorts, before she released him, her body fell back against his raised knees, he caught her, letting her body take a moment from his torturous tongue.

“Could eat you all night,” he groaned, her legs still open, inches away from his mouth, as her back rested against his thighs, her head draped over his knees. He watched her pink, puffy lips glisten with his residual spit and her own sweet juices.

Diane had gone non-verbal by that point, her body was still shaking as she looked up at the vast expanse of the sky. Kendall moved his middle finger up and down along her slit before taking his middle and index finger to spread open her sensitive lips, admiring her sex dripping for him. He loved the way it glistened. He watched as her walls clenched around nothing, practically begging him to fill her up.

“Kendall, please,” she begged him. Her voice, still raspy. He did a double take at her disheveled appearance. Her eyes bloodshot with her mascara running, smudging her under eyes.

He didn't respond as he spread her lips further apart, letting the cold breeze hit her entrance. Her face heated up while Kendall fully exposed her.  

“You have the tightest little pussy,” he commented, feeling how her entrance wanted to take in his thumb, but he didn't push it in. Not yet.

He finally slipped a finger inside her. Her walls instinctively squeezed around his thick digit. She cried out in pleasure as she squirmed more. The pad of his finger slowly rubbed and pressed firmly on that spongey spot on her walls. She arched her back letting out a strangled cry.

Kendall gently pushed another finger inside her. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he began pumping them in and out of her slowly. She felt his cock twitch under her. His fingers were knuckle deep, he continued thrusting them inside her. He curled them up and made sure to pay close attention to her g-spot, pressing on it and massaging it. Making her walls clench up, her toes curling in the sand.

“You okay, baby?” Kendall checked in, but his fingers didn’t slow.

“Y-yes… I’m okay, keep going,” she stammered out, as she tried to keep focus.

He chuckled and picked up the pace. His fingers were making her pussy create the most vulgar wet sounds she'd ever heard. Her slick soaking his hand as he fucked her. Her legs shook and he took his other hand to rub tight circles over her clit. 

Kendall didn't stop. His fingers still moved in and out of her while his other hand paid attention to her throbbing clit. He milked her pussy as she rode out her release. He finally slowed down and stilled his hands. Carefully, he removed his fingers with a loud shlick . A string of her juices still connecting to them. He brought them up to his lips, sticking them in his mouth.

Kendall hummed at the taste of her. “You’re so sweet.” She wanted to hide her face, her eyes were glossy, illuminated by the moonlight.

“You're crazy,” Diane whispered, feeling like she just had an out of body experience. He pulled her back down, their chests pressed together, his tongue dancing in her mouth. 

(*siri play champage coast by blood orange; 3:01*)

A rogue wave, emboldened by the rising tide, surged up the beach, engulfing their legs. The sudden rush of icy water sent a jolt through Kendall, a flash of annoyance tightening his features. He scowled at his soaked clothes, the sand now stubbornly clinging to the damp fabric.

But then he looked at Diane.

Her reaction was the complete opposite. She threw her head back and let out a burst of pure, unrestrained laughter—a sound so genuine and carefree, it was infectious. Before Kendall could process his irritation, Diane was running towards the water’s edge, jumping into the sea with a joyful cry, submerging herself completely. The cool water seemed to revitalize her, like a dried-up starfish returned to the ocean.

She resurfaced, her hair plastered to her face, water dripping from her eyelashes, but her smile was radiant. “It’s amazing!” she shouted, her voice echoing across the beach. “Come on in!”

Kendall watched her, a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement swirling within him. He was still annoyed about his ruined clothes, but Diane’s infectious joy was hard to resist. He couldn’t understand her carefree attitude, her ability to embrace the unexpected.

He hesitated, glancing at his expensive, now soaked shoes. But Diane’s laughter continued to beckon. He kicked off his shoes and waded into the cold water.

Suddenly, Diane splashed him, a playful wave aimed directly at his chest. Kendall gasped, feigning offense. “Oh, you’re going down!” he shouted, retaliating with a splash of his own. Playful splashes and shrieks echoed across the quiet beach, a stark contrast to Kendall’s usual heavy silence. He chased Diane through the shallows, the cold water a shocking but welcome sensation. As he lunged for her, catching her in his arms, they both tumbled into the waves with a shared cry.

For Kendall, the feeling was almost foreign. He had forgotten what it felt like to simply laugh. The last time he remembered feeling this carefree was a distant memory, a faded snapshot from a childhood that felt like it belonged to someone else. His life had become a carefully constructed performance, a constant striving for his father’s approval. There was no room for joy in the rigid structure he had built around himself. Every action was weighed against his father’s expectations, the burden of his past mistakes, the fear of his uncertain future.

But in that moment, in the cool ocean water, with Diane’s laughter ringing in his ears, the weight lifted. The years of pressure, the constant striving, the deep-seated fear – all of it seemed to wash away with the waves. He was just Kendall, a man playing in the ocean with a woman who made him feel something he couldn’t define. It was more than just attraction; it was connection, a shared moment of pure joy.

He looked at Diane, her face flushed with laughter, and a genuine smile spread across his own. He had forgotten the simple pleasure of being present, of letting go of his worries and simply enjoying another person’s company. She had somehow managed to chip away at the walls he had built around himself, revealing a part of him he thought had long since died. It was terrifying.

They continued their playful fight, splashing and chasing each other until they were both breathless and shivering. They collapsed onto the sand, their wet clothes clinging to their bodies.

“Come on,” Kendall said, extending a hand to her. “Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold.” He gently pulled her to her feet, noticing she was shivering slightly. The sand squished between her toes with every step.

He then bent down, scooping her up into his arms before she could protest. Diane gasped, a surprised laugh escaping her lips. “I can walk,” she protested, though her voice lacked conviction.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice firm but gentle, his eyes filled with concern. “And walking in this wet sand isn’t going to help. Besides,” he added with a playful grin, a hint of teasing in his tone, “I think I’ve worn you out tonight?”

Diane met his gaze, a small smile playing on her lips. She didn’t argue, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing counterpoint to the crashing waves. Then, she drifted off.

Kendall carried Diane back to the house, her small frame surprisingly light in his arms. He climbed the porch steps and entered the warm interior, noticing her breathing had become slow and even. He carried her directly to the bedroom and gently laid her on the bed. The wet fabric of her clothes clung uncomfortably to her skin, so he carefully removed his soaked sweatshirt from her, being mindful not to wake her.

He fetched a soft towel and dried her off. He didn't care about the sand that fell onto the sheets or the saltwater that clung to their hair. All that mattered was Diane, the peaceful expression on her sleeping face, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

He found a clean pair of his sweatpants and a soft t-shirt and dressed her, pulling the soft fabric over her still-damp skin. He then lay down beside her, pulling the covers over them both and tightening his hold slightly, drawing her closer. He had never felt this sense of peace, this quiet contentment. It was a feeling that defied explanation—a simple knowing that everything, in that moment, was exactly as it should be.

It was just them, in that quiet room, with the sound of the ocean as their only companion. It felt perfect—a brief escape from the complexities of their lives, a moment of respite. For Kendall, it was a glimpse of something he hadn't known he was missing: a taste of peace and connection. And for Diane, in her sleep, it was a moment of respite from her carefully constructed plan, a brief surrender to the simple comfort of being held.