#roman roy x y/n smut

[nanabrainrot]

Perversion, Immersion [Pervert!Roman Roy]

Roman Roy discovers the magic of deepfakes, filtering through more and more images of you. He’s lucky you’re an entertainer at heart.

Warning! This piece is NSFW! It contains a dominating female reader and a perverted Roman. Dub-con due to nonconsensual use of her face in deepfake pornography. Praise kink, humiliation kink, and mixed signals.

WC: 1599

Part I | You are reading Part II | Part III

Part II

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The industrial revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for mankind. The advancement of technology served as a grim reminder that Roman would not be increasing in his addiction and obscenity since you had found out about it: the existence of deepfakes had only exacerbated this progression in depravity. Masturbation is natural, occurring in all facets of life where self-pleasure can set off dopamine receptors; the problem in humanity is the structure of manufactured morality. Ignorance is bliss reigns true but the lingering feeling of adrenaline as his camera roll started to become full of the public images of you.

LinkedIn, Facebook, Instagram, your youth had led you to being tech savvy and your beauty had led you to indulging in regularly posting pictures of yourself. Classy, but suggestive. Most photos of you were perfectly posed, half-lidded eyes and a little grin but not too big. Feeding them into the websites provided him this constant pleasure: your face projected on the porn star.

Enough angles fed made it seamless. It was no longer the porn star’s face, but yours. The mouth ajar and knit brows but the voice - the voice was too far off. It was maddening. What did you sound like moaning? Not that he would likely ever be able to get that comical assembly of moans and grunts that were restricted to the world of porn for the sake of theatrics. And everyday the collection grows, the number of porn stars with a body like yours are not in short supply. The amateur videos really add to the authenticity of it as he downloads it to his phone, sending the file in his emails before trying to delete the evidence. Or not. You really didn’t seem give a damn that he was basically fantasizing about you.

You don’t seem bothered now too.

“What’re you staring at like that for?”

His skin goes cold, pores erupting into goosebumps and hairs standing on end. No fear, just adrenaline.

It’s you.

Your face edited with that stupid website. Face covered in a load of cum as you looked up at the camera with lips wrapped around the bulbous tip of a dick. Silence.

Quiet. Stillness.

Until the first noise rips out of you: a real authentic snorting laugh. You stumble back with your head back - like a hyena - snorting and trying to breathe as tears well from the lack of air as you wheeze at Roman fumbling over his words and trying to rectify the frozen screen yet again. A vein pulses in his head as he starts to randomly pound buttons and mutter a string of curses at the frozen screen before you regain your composure with a grin.

“You’re a photoshop pro, Roman? Or did you master it to beat it to this pic of me?” you scoff smiling as you leaned back against the wall.

“No - just, you fuckin’ uh - this is a chick who just kind of, um - oh my god, y’know what? Fuck is your issue it’s just a pic as a joke and you literally fell for it -“

“A joke? Me sucking dick is a funny joke?” you snort, struggling to hold back a laugh as the vein pulsed in his head harder.

“Hysterical. You don’t get comedy and it’s not even you - just some uh chick who looks like you. You think you’re only chick who looks like that in the world?”

“Roman, I don’t have any nudes out there. Camera shy,” you start, drawing closer to him with little clicks of your heels, “and that ‘chick’ has the mole near my eye.”

He glances back at the screen before immediately drawing back to whip back and view your face - over and over. He looked like he’d break his neck like that.

“What? If you wanna see me suck dick you can just ask me.” His face simultaneously drains of blood and flushes all at once, dick confused if it should get hard or stay shy and soft in his trousers.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? I know you heard me,” you drawl, “do you not want me to suck it?”

“I do! I mean, uh,” he coughs leaning back to look cool and collected, “I do… but not, um, today. Y’know, I like to test the waters? I’m a verbal guy you just keep that chatting and it’ll be your dick audition. Since you’re literally craving it if you’re offering like that -“

“Then take out your dick.”

Quiet.

“I don’t uh - want you to watch me,” he choked, “talk to me, c’mon, start that dirty shit since you’re so horny like that-“

“Take out your dick. You stupid or something? Why do I need to walk you through unzipping and taking your dick out?” You rolled your eyes but seemed to oblige, walking toward the door where your phone was on a table by. Back to him, you leaned over - round ass taunting him in the tight fabric of your skirt. Garters on display.

“I’m not even gonna look at you, since you wanna be a baby about it… probably don’t wanna see your nasty dick,” you scoff and start scrolling through your phone as your knees lightly shifted weight to weight to make your ass move a bit. It’s enough to spark the little shame that he loved to make him start palming himself through the trousers.

“Tch, you stroking your dick to my ass? Good,”

Hard breaths. Harsh huffs. Fiddling with the flesh to reach orgasm at a sight. Because you couldn’t be bothered to let him touch you. Too good to be soiled by a disgusting, sorry man like himself.

“You wish you could touch me, don’t you?”

A huff.

“Yeah…”

“Don’t even fuckin’ try. You’ve been a creep,” you huff, “stuffing pics of me into some website to jack off to.” Your ass taunted him, probably fleshy under the tight pencil skirt. Untouched by him, undeserving of touching it.

“Say it. Say you’re a creep,” you scoff.

Breath hitching, the way you play him like a fiddle, has the veins of his cock throbbing and his balls tightening uncomfortably. If he came too fast, you’d laugh. If he didn’t come at all, he’s a brick with a dick. Takes too long to cum? Roman can’t cum off a pretty broad and you could scoot off and tell everyone Roman’s as close to gay as an old Rome orgy. The way you suddenly stand straight has him anxious - reeling at fast movements and change as he always had.

You turn on your heel, that stone face meeting his eyes. The statuesque positioning only serves to make him reel more internally, softening just a little at the way your face returning to its natural stoic expression; he was starting to miss that coy girlish giggle you did when you saw his screen frozen again in the grim series of misfortunes called his life.

He gets hard again as you draw closer, slow strides and the sound of your kitten heels scraping the floor as you come closer with your hands fiddling with the buttons of your professional workwear that always screamed “office minx” with the way the buttons were always a little spread and trying to free your tits from its confines.

“You’re cute. Do me a favor since I’m being so nice to a creep like you,” you coo sweetly like glazing your malicious half-hearted words in icing to make it palatable. If you’d called him a simmering piece of dog shit and stepped on his balls, he’d probably harden the same anyway.

Two pieces of clothing sit on his desk, ragdolled by gravity and no longer clinging to the owner but still reeking of your perfume. Something halfway between girlish and womanly, it has a floral note that Roman breathes in clearly from where he is now: suckling at your tit.

Your eyes closed, soft huffs of minty breath from those puffy peppermints on your desk, cooing and petting his head like a puppy. Those nails scratching at the back of his neck; it’s a gentle movement that leaves him reeling, leaves his cock twitching and balls tightening drawing closer and closer and closer -

“Good boy, good boy… not so creepy, you’re so good… you can cum, baby boy,” you coo.

The sensation is different. Used to his ejaculations being spurred by the feeling of being talked down to, when he spills to you pressing soft kisses to his hairline it feels too close to intimacy.

And intimacy was debilitating.

The spent on his hands is warm and he is naming 4 things he can touch as just: cum, cum, cum, and cum. You slip back on your bra and button-up (a tad more wrinkled than it was earlier) and the wafting scent of your perfume is contaminated by the musk of his cologne.

Your eyes are stone again and your face unchanged. Mellowed with time and that time was only seconds. The sweet sugar of your voice spills through his hands like sand and he wishes it was more solid, like a horse wanting a sugar cube after a subpar trick. You stink of him as you mutter goodnight, grabbing the bag and leaving once you had your fill, and your silhouette lost in the hallway as his office door clanks shut.

The only evidence that you were here at all is the bit of chapstick, strawberry and $3 and generic, still sticky on his hairline.

The taste of sugar depletes and his mouth feels dry. Can tomorrow come any quicker? Any quicker than him?

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THANKS FOR READINGGH FOLLOW FOR PART 3 THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED AT NOON ON THE DOT BUT HAD TO BE POSTED LATER BC MY WIFI BLEW OUT NO ONE GET MAD 😭

EDIT 9/9/23: PART 3 IS UP N LINKED THANK YOU MY FELLOW AMERICANS

[beegomess]

Just ride || Kendall Roy

Summary: After a long time away, you return to New York for work, leaving Kendall's life slightly more hectic and some people not so happy. Warnings: some swear words. - word count: 4.1k

Since his youth, his life inevitably crossed with Kendall's. Bound by a friendship between powerful families, you grew up together as a kind of improbable duo, united both by the influence of your parents and by a natural affinity. Daughter of Frank, one of Logan's advisors, you lived in the Roy circle from an early age, and time has consolidated this closeness. In college, you and Kendall were inseparable, and over the years, Stewy joined the circle, forming a trio of heirs willing to live intensely, as if each night could be the last.

Your college adventures were commented as stories of excesses and privileges, and the weight of surnames attracted spotlight and media speculation. There were not a few times when chaotic parties and summers on family yachts became headlines, generating theories about the "boss's children" and, especially, about the supposed relationship between you and Kendall - a rumor that never completely dissipated. You kept a bond so close that the line between friendship and romance seemed invisible. He remembered when, at any party, Stewy came up with cocaine and suggested that you try it. It was Kendall's first time and yours too, and the night got even more blurred when you ended up together in bed.

That should have been a unique episode, but the fact is that it was repeated a few times over the years. It was a connection that both understood, an intimacy that went beyond any label. You spent holidays with the Roys, something usually reserved only for wives and brides, and Logan approved you unconditionally, considering you an ideal choice for Kendall - after all, you had all the attributes of a true ally.

The familiarity with the Roy family brought you closer to Kendall's brothers. Roman, when he was still a pre-teen, had a kind of crush on you, something you thought was funny, but that Kendall seemed to disapprove whenever her brother insinuated something. Shiv, on the other hand, liked your company as an older sister, saying that, with you, she didn't have to worry about deciphering intentions.

For your families and the media, you and Kendall dated for a while, but the truth was more complicated. You liked each other, sex was great, but a formal commitment always seemed like a step further. Maybe it was fear of ruining the friendship, or maybe both were too young for something so serious. After college, your paths separated: Kendall was sent to Shanghai, while you went to London, where you settled in the same profession as your father.

The friendship, however, resisted the distance. You were present in every new chapter of his life: the beginning of the relationship with Rava, the increase in cocaine use, the arrival of the children and even Rava's requests for help to accompany him in the most complicated moments. Somehow, Kendall always found a way to bring her back into her life.

But now it was different. While Kendall returned from Shanghai just a year later, you remained in London, perfecting your work and preparing to one day replace your father in New York, if necessary. That moment finally seemed close. Your return, however, would be more than a seasonal visit; this time, you would be moving to live in your own apartment and work directly in the city.

For Kendall, his return to New York carries something more. An unspoken, almost secret expectation that, this time, you can fill the spaces you have always left open. And even if he doesn't say, you recognize that look - the kind of expression that only reveals itself to someone who has always been there.

Your return to New York didn't just mean a professional opportunity - it also brought the promise, or perhaps the uncertainty, of what could finally be defined between you and Kendall.

____________________________

It wasn't just Kendall who seemed eager for his arrival - others around him also seemed to notice the return. Emma, his new assistant, a young woman recently graduated and with a promising talent, showed interest, albeit in a subtle, almost imperceptible way. She observed every detail of the imminent return, sometimes questioning the importance of the event, but without admitting the impact it had on her.

Emma remembered the night she made the slip with Kendall, a situation she tried to forget, but that was often repeated in her mind. In a moment of exhaustion and overload, after weeks of working side by side, the professional barrier between them had broken. It was not planned; they flirted, exchanged glances frequently, and that night, alone, one thing led to another. The tension turned into something that, the next morning, resulted in embarrassment.

Kendall had made it clear that it wouldn't happen again. Guilt and regret weighed on him, and she knew that his decision had less to do with what happened and more with the fact that, to Kendall, she seemed too young to understand him in other ways. But Emma, even trying, couldn't forget that.

Almost a year ago at Waystar, Emma had gotten used to the looks and provocations in the workplace, especially those of Roman, who loved to mock Kendall in every possible way. She still remembered a specific afternoon when he, with that malicious air, showed Kendall a picture of her on her cell phone and said: "Damn, she looks even hotter now." Kendall gave her brother a cold look, ignoring the comment, but Emma couldn't avoid the chill she felt. A slight feeling of discomfort mixed with the growing fear that she was, in fact, in love with her own boss worried her.

The preparations for his arrival only increased this insecurity. When Jess asked Emma to get reservations at the best restaurants for Kendall to take you, she convinced herself that you were just another business woman. But, little by little, this hypothesis was undone. Emma found herself searching her name on Google, and, in a few clicks, she understood that the story was much deeper. His face appeared in several old photos, stamping covers of gossip magazines and columns about the life of the rich and powerful. Still, Emma thought it could be just speculation - until she found an iconic image: you, on Kendall's lap, laughing while he held her, on a speedboat in the middle of the Mediterranean.

It wasn't an ordinary pose for simple friends.

The list of ex-boyfriends that appeared in the stories also surprised her. You had few relationships, but all the men were children of magnates. It was almost as if her ex-boyfriends could represent the GDP of a developing country. Every detail seemed more unbelievable than the previous one.

Emma's insecurity only intensified the next day, when she saw her getting off the helicopter in Waystar's own building. Kendall and Frank were waiting for her ahead, while she and Jess positioned themselves a few steps behind. The slight smile on his face illuminated the scene, and soon, when removing his sunglasses, it was evident that his young appearance showed no signs of the time he had passed. For Emma, it was as if you had stopped in time.

Frank hugged her with pride and affection, a longing that only a loving father could transmit. Emma noticed how Kendall watched it with admiration, but also with a slight sting of envy. As soon as you let go of his arms, you turned to Kendall, and a familiar smile opened on your face, full of nostalgia.

- Finally! New York is not the same without you. - Kendall commented, with a genuine smile as she hugged you.

Emma paid attention, observing the gentle way you exchanged smiles, unable to avoid the tightness in the heart. The connection between you was undeniable.

Soon, cars were called for the dinner trip that Frank had prepared especially for his reception. Although it was a surprise, you seemed really enchanted, typical of a father like Frank, proud of the woman you had become, eager to see how you would do among the bigwigs of New York.

Frank's penthouse was great, with a stunning view of the illuminated city. There were many important people there, and Emma began to question why she had never heard of you before, since it seemed so essential. Even Logan was present, something rare, considering the latest events in the family.

Dinner began with Frank making a brief and emotional toast.

- It's wonderful to have my little girl back. Now, as a woman I'm immensely proud to see. - he said, his gaze full of love and approval.

As the night progressed, you reunited with Roman, Shiv, Tom and Kendall. Emma watched the interactions from afar, realizing how undeniable the chemistry between you was. You laughed together, but Emma noticed that Tom, as always, seemed a little out of place, as if trying to fit in, but couldn't completely.

At one point, the brothers began to disperse, leaving only you and Kendall alone for a few seconds, until Logan approached, accompanied by Marcia.

- We're already leaving, but I want to say I'm glad you're back. - Logan said, and you greeted him with a gentle look.

- Thank you very much, it's really good to be back. - you replied, and Marcia offered you a soft smile just before they moved away.

Emma watched you move away, following you with her eyes. Sometimes, you noticed Emma's looks, but she always looked away when you stared.

Outside, the view of the city was stunning, but Emma couldn't hear what you were saying. However, through the huge glass, she saw how you interacted intimately, sharing a cigarette and looking very comfortable close to each other, a constant smile on your faces.

- So, how was it to stay in London for so long? - Kendall asked, breaking the silence while the gentle wind swayed your hair.

- I ended up getting used to the bad food and the tea with milk. - You gave a chuckle, a malicious glow in your eyes. - How have you been? Are the children okay?

Kendall sighed, looking more serious when speaking. - Well, things have been complicated. Rava and I... we're not exactly on the same page. And as for Sophie and Iverson, it's a constant fight. I feel like I'm always trying to be a good father, but sometimes, it seems like I can't please anyone.

You listened carefully, feeling the weight in your words.

- One day they will realize that you are a good father... in your own chaotic way of being. - Kendall laughed, but there was something grateful in the smile.

- Yeah, I hope so...

A brief silence followed, before you broke it with a provocative tone.

- Speaking of complications, I have to ask... are you dating your assistant?

Kendall was in shock, widening her eyes.

- What?! Where did you get that from?

- Oh, Ken, she didn't take her eyes off you all night. I'm not judging, but you know how it is... That would be a scandal. - you said, provocative, with a malicious smile.

He was completely unresponsive for a second, and you laughed.

- Oh, well... yes, I mean... - he started to get in the way, and you laughed incredulously.

- For God's sake, Ken, I was joking, but fuck... You gave yourself up now. - a smile still danced on your face.

Kendall, slightly embarrassed, but still laughing, decided to explain himself. - Let's say there was one night... a silly mistake. I was exhausted and it was totally stupid.

- Well, maybe things didn't end that night for her. - you observed, still with a slight smile, having fun with the situation.

- I'll make sure of that at some point. - he concluded, a smile playing on his lips while changing the subject, both getting lost in the conversation that involved them, oblivious to the world around them.

You remained side by side, silent for a few moments, watching the brightness of the city lights. The light conversation seemed to have disarmed something between you, leaving only the quiet presence and mutual understanding.

Kendall swallowed the cigarette, her gaze lost on the horizon line, and released the smoke slowly, as if pondering something she couldn't or maybe didn't want to say out loud. Then, he laughed softly, shaking his head.

- You've always known... taking the weight off things. As if, I don't know, the world wasn't as complicated as I make it seem.

- Well, it's just that things don't have to be... so intense. - you replied, with a half smile. - But, to be fair, I also missed the chaos.

He let out a low laugh, a little incredulous.

- I think it was always that between us, right? You show up and, suddenly, everything becomes... easier. Even if I try to fuck everything.

- Yeah, you have a gift for these things. - You smiled.

That was a truth that both understood effortlessly, a complicity that had resisted time and distance, surviving the ups and downs of the years in which they were separated.

While you exchanged, you watched the lights of the city ahead, the night wind brought a feeling of nostalgia, as if old memories were present in the air. Kendall, hesitant, looked away to the horizon before speaking, as if he was on the verge of a confession that even he knew how to express.

- We really got along well before, didn't we? - He commented, his gaze lost, almost distant. - I mean... Maybe things would have been different... if I hadn't agreed to go to China.

You gave an amused smile, although you understood the sting of melancholy behind his speech.

- And what would you do, Ken? Say "no" to Logan Roy? - The provocation came with a touch of humor, enough to break the weight of the moment a little. He laughed, a laugh that seemed sincere, but with a bitter background. - I love my father, but I would also have packed for China without looking back if he had. That's what we knew how to do: say "yes".

Kendall let out a light laugh, almost a relief. That was the kind of understanding that only you shared, an ironic and resigned familiarity.

- But, seriously, we'd better go back before he thinks I disappeared from the reception event itself. - You indicated the direction of the party with a look.

He nodded, taking one last drag on the cigarette before throwing it away, and followed you back to the hall. The atmosphere between you still had a touch of lightness, but there was a discreet tension - a tacit understanding that, although the past could not be changed, there, at that moment, you were exactly where you should be.

____________________________

The office was already in an uproar for your arrival, and you hadn't even stepped there yet. In a way, it was like relearning the city: the details of a New York that kept secrets and expectations.

The reception at his father's house had ended in an almost inevitable way: Kendall in his bed, waking up next to him. You were as messy as the sheets around, and when you noticed the time, it was a silent rush to get ready in time for your first day. Your relationship was, in fact, peculiar. It was not news that something happened between you when you approached, but now, it seemed different, as if something unsaid, but strongly felt, hovered.

For Emma, this night did not go unnoticed. She saw signs of this throughout the reception, every exchange of glances, every detail that denounced the intimacy you shared. And now, as he climbed the elevator of his building, he felt a mixture of curiosity and restlessness. Jess had asked her to take a suit that Kendall had requested, something she would normally do without hesitation, but which today brought a new weight. Holding the carefully folded suit, Emma watched the floors go up while trying to organize her own thoughts. It was becoming pathetic, she thought, this painful fascination that made her follow trivial orders with such zeal.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Emma was greeted by an impressive sight. The apartment exuded sophistication and an almost oppressive luxury, with each piece of decoration handpicked. The walls displayed works of abstract art, and the soft lighting left the environment immersed in an atmosphere that was both elegant and intimidating. The silence there was absolute; no one seemed to have noticed his arrival.

Hesitantly, Emma called a shy "hello", but got no answer. He then decided to advance through the corridor, passing through spacious rooms: a huge TV room, a library, until he slowed down even more when he saw the ajar door of a room, from which sounds of water and movements came out. She discreetly peeked through the slit and saw, reflected in a large mirror, the messy bed.

The perception of what had happened there became clearer, and she felt something hard form in her chest. Soon, your gaze found you, wrapped in a black robe, adjusting an earring while talking on the phone in hands-free.

On the other side of the line, Frank's voice was slightly impatient:

- Why the hell doesn't he answer? I've been calling for almost an hour.

You answered naturally, but with that diplomatic touch that Emma only saw in well-rehearsed conversations.

- He must already be on his way, dad. You know how Kendall is... - you said, almost like someone trying to soften an evident problem.

Frank let out a sigh and, with an implicit smile in his voice, replied:

- Honey, let's skip this part where you try to convince me that he's not there, right? Just ask him to call me back.

You laughed, ending the conversation with a simple "Okay." She hung up and, when she turned around, was surprised by Kendall, who appeared from the bathroom door with a towel attached to her waist and her hair still wet. He approached you, a light smile and a quick kiss, his hands firm on his waist, and Emma looked away, the discomfort growing when she realized the naturalness with which you exchanged these intimacies.

- What did Frank want? - Kendall asked.

- Talk to you. - he replied, with a smile that seemed to keep a world of intentions.

As she moved away to get some clothes from the closet and Kendall returned to the bathroom, Emma decided to break the silence with a hesitant touch on the door. You looked up, noticing your presence. You smiled in an understanding way, without losing control of the situation.

- Oh, hello. Sorry to enter like this, it's just that no one answered... - she said, her voice trembling.

- No problem. I'm just alone for now; the servants start in the afternoon - you replied with a casual nod.

Kendall, from inside the bathroom, asks carelessly:

- Have my clothes arrived?

You said yes and took the suit, handing it to him while Emma, still in the embarrassment of the moment, said goodbye.

- Well, I think I'm going...

- No. - you interrupted her with a slight smile. - You can wait in the living room. The traffic must already be horrible at this time and calling another car would take forever.

Emma agreed and withdrew, but the brief exchange she had witnessed remained alive in her mind. She returned to the living room, sinking into the sofa and reflecting on what it meant, the discomfort and the feeling of exclusion that took over her. I was being forced to confront something I preferred not to see: the reality that, for you and Kendall, this was an intimate routine and totally alien to any spectator.

After a few minutes, you and Kendall emerged from the hallway, dressed for work. He looked impeccable, while you were still fixing the blazer, ending a comment that Emma couldn't hear.

- Do you catch something on the way? - you asked him with a casual lightness, as if it were something they had been doing for years. - I promised to have breakfast with my mother today.

Emma got up, observing how tidy and tuned you were in every detail.

- Oh, of course. - Kendall replied, then turned to Emma, signaling her to follow him. - See you at the office?

- Of course, I wouldn't miss my first day. - you answered with a calm smile, letting them go to the elevator.

In the elevator, the silence weighed. Kendall kept her expression relaxed, but Emma, restless, tried to ignore the tension she felt. In a casual tone, he broke the silence:

- Why couldn't Jess come?

Emma answered almost dryly:

- She asked me to help because the weather was tight.

He doesn't answer, turning his gaze to the panel, apparently oblivious to what was going on inside it. The route to the office was equally uncomfortable, a reminder of his own condition in that scenario. She felt displaced, torn between the professional obligation and the uncomfortable pain that the truth brought.

When they arrived, you quickly settled in, greeting your colleagues formally and safely, while Emma watched from a distance. It was as if you had left everything that happened behind, impeccable in your posture, and this only served to intensify the discomfort she felt. At the end of the meeting, Emma felt the weight of reality: that relationship was a mystery that would inevitably leave her out. For you and Kendall, it was clear that this was part of something bigger that she would never be able to understand, a secret shared between the two of you and inaccessible to any viewer.

Emma watched from afar, feeling a strange mixture of curiosity and discomfort when she saw you two interacting through the glass wall. Kendall called you to his room right after the meeting, and when you came in, he smiled in that convinced way that only he could.

- So, what did you think of your first day? - He asked, as if he were being magnanimous.

You laughed and replied with a sharp look.

- Don't treat me like an intern, Ken. I used to do much more complicated things in London, you know?

He raised his hands, surrendering.

- Okay, okay, fair.

- But then, what do you want? - You went straight to the point, bluntly.

Kendall hesitated, a little disconcerted, but soon amended:

- I wanted to know what you will be free today.

You arched an eyebrow, an ironic smile appearing.

- You know, you really should stop asking your subordinates to go out. - he replied, with a pang of humor.

He laughed, but insisted, his voice a little more serious:

- Oh, what is it? I'm serious.

- I already have another appointment. - His voice is casual, almost indifferent.

Kendall raises her eyebrows, clearly taken by surprise. - Another appointment?

You smile, having fun with his reaction. - What's up? I also have my contacts.

He lets out a short laugh, incredulously. - Oh, is it? So tell me... who are you going out with?

- And why so much curiosity? - you reply, the provocative tone. His eyes capture his expression, which tries to disguise his attention.

He shrugs his shoulders, pretending disinterest, but the look betrays a hint of anxiety. - It's not curiosity, just... I don't know.

You stare at him for an more moment, letting the suspense hover, until you get up with a victorious smile. - Relax, Ken. It's just Shiv.

The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but you notice the relief that softens your features for a moment.

- Girls' night? - He forces a smile, as if he didn't care. But his gaze remains attentive.

- Exactly. - you answer, amused, starting to leave, but he interrupts you with a casual suggestion.

- Well... - he says, his fingers drumming on the table - you could stop by at home after the "girls' night".

You turn around, holding back your laughter. - Oh, of course! I'll ask Shiv to give me a ride straight there.

Kendall laughs, but the answer disconcerts him a little. He gives a half smile, trying to maintain the pose, but the eyes still follow you to the door, a restlessness not so well hidden behind that carefree charm.

Without looking back, you leave with a half smile, leaving Kendall standing there, alone, watching the empty space where you were seconds ago. The casual answer, almost disinterested, echoes in the room, leaving a slight shadow between you. As much as he tried to hide, there was a restlessness in his eyes, an uncomfortable silence that he knew how to interpret - but would choose to ignore it.

Outside, you feel the weight of Kendall's gaze, even without seeing it. He has always been like this: wrapped in doubts that he would never assume, caught between the desire to have you around and the fear of getting lost in this proximity.

And you, although you didn't say anything, you also knew what that game meant. Every word between you was like a moving piece on the board, a dance calculated between distance and desire, mystery and revelation.

Emma watched everything from afar, with a discomfort that she herself could not explain. There was something powerful and, at the same time, dangerous in the silence between you and Kendall, something she could never fully understand. For her, it was like peeking through a blurry glass, a secret that seemed simple, but that hid too many layers to be unraveled.

A/N: Okay, I know this is different from what I usually post, but I let my mind wander through this story and ended up liking it. I hope you like it!! 🫶🏼

[feninina]

˚◞♡. ✧˖° ꒰ 𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙖 ༘⋆ ꙳

𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 !

･῾ ᵎ ⌇— nina. xviii. scorpio. cill’s wife. 🕸️

. ˚◞♡

2222222 🦇

requests are: open !

. ˚◞♡

✧˖° currently obsessed with/writing for: johnny from bikeriders, anakin skywalker and cillian murphy!

⩩ ꜞ other characters i write for are: here

[cato616]

heyyy! ✧⁠*⁠。

welcome to my blog,, im 19 and im brand new at writing here! and im planning on writing some spicy and of course non spicy content hell yeah lol

this is what im probably going to write about:

SUCCESSION (roman roy, kendall)

AGENTS OF SHIELD

NATHAN DRAKE (uncharted)

and more hehe

and so I'll leave what I have so far:

(AS SOON AS I HAVE MORE VARIETY, I'LL MAKE A MASTER LIST)

SUCCESSION:

general (kendall, roman, shiv):

- THE TRANSFER: pt.1

roman roy:

- NEGOTIATING OVER US: pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6 / pt.7 / pt.8 / pt.9

kendall roy:

- PREDICTABLE FEELING: pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4

LOKI SERIES

loki/mobius (not lokius,, or at least not yet heh)

- ESCAPE

[idksmtms]

Succession Masterlist

Kendall Roy

Coming soon...

Roman Roy

Coming soon...

Lukas Mattson

Coming soon...

Greg Hirsch (Cousin Greg)

Coming soon...

Tom Wambsgans

Coming soon...

Could be tempted to write for Stewy...

[secondhand-snow]

a body of impulses

lukas matsson x f!roy!reader (succession)

★chapter 2★

wc: 7.5k+

warnings: toxic family dynamics, drinking, very mild violence, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (if you squint), oral sex (f! recieving), fingering (f!recieving), handjobs, cum eating, spit, clothed sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), biting, so much making out, praise, size difference, no use of y/n

summary: The youngest Roy meets Lukas Matsson at her brother's birthday party. Limerence strikes like lightening. Self-control snaps. Attachment blooms.

author's note: I'm considering making this a short series? Let me know what you think! please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

It made you feel strangely childish, running through the darkened rooms of the event space, carefully stepping with bent knees to reduce your risk of falling from the extra few inches your heels provided you. Looking over your shoulder at the dwindling silhouettes of your siblings, you checked to be sure they didn’t think your disappearance was too suspicious. Of course, they were too transfixed with themselves. They were staring at the large, falsified, magazine covers of themselves hung on the walls of the open space. 

Connor was still making a fuss, comforted by Willa.  You noticed a few attendants coming over to begin the process of removing his personalized poster from public view. Meanwhile, Shiv and Roman had their heads together, no doubt constructing some plan to turn Kendall’s birthday into a business opportunity. You rolled your eyes lightly, turning back around to peer through the small crowd at your older brother’s bomber jacket.

“Ken… Hey Kendall! Wait up!” You called out to him, your voice only a little louder than your normal speaking tone to carry over the techno music. He heard you, apparently, turning to lock eyes with you. You trotted up to him, grateful that the room you were in was mostly empty of partygoers. The walls were big screens flashing with fire, the orange light lighting up Kendall's face as he looked at you. Flames flickered in the pupils of his eyes and you almost laughed at the ironic symbolism of the moment.

“So, I know Rome gave you something earlier, I don’t know what, but uh,  I got you a card too.” You opened your small clutch and pulled out a white envelope, Kendall’s name written on it in your neat cursive handwriting. 

“You did?” His eyebrows raised, accentuating the few rows of wrinkles in his forehead. Taking the envelope from your hand, he turned it around in his fingers, almost like he couldn’t believe it was real. You bit your lower lip and nodded, hands moving to clasp behind your back.

“Yeah, I um… didn’t want to give it to you around them,” you nodded your head in the general direction of the rest of your siblings. “I know things have been, like, weird… lately. But, It’s your birthday and I love you and so I got you something.” Smiling on the last word, your tone raised the slightest bit. Kendall’s brows were still furrowed, but he nodded and ripped the envelope open to produce the card.

It was a cliche store bought birthday card, the front of it adorned in a goofy catchphrase and the picture of a dachshund. You saw his lips twitch the slightest bit as he read the front, a full smile forming as he opened the card. The stereotypical joke’s punchline was delivered and sandwiched inside the folded paper was an old photo of the two of you as children. He picked it up between his thumb and pointer finger, turning it over to find the date it was taken and both of your names written on the back. 

A small laugh escaped his mouth, his pointed grin blooming over his face as he turned the photo to face you. Pictured were the two of you, outside at the Hamptons house on a sunny day. You were young, maybe a few years old and Kendall was an older teenager. The younger version of yourself sat on his shoulders, your hands coming down to cradle his face while his hands held onto your ankles. Your tongue was sticking out at the photographer, he had noticed your face and was in the midst of an open-mouthed laugh when the photo was captured. 

It was a nod to your younger years, when Kendall filled more of a fatherly role than a brotherly one. You had written on the inside of the card, the message reading: “Happy birthday Ken. I love you always, no matter what,” with a heart and your signature ending the note. 

“What do you think?” 

“Are you kidding, I love it. God, I- I haven’t seen that picture in years.” He tucked the photo back away and held the card in one hand while he embraced you. 

“Right?! I found it the other day when I was looking through some old diaries. That was such a good summer.” You beamed at him as you spoke. He hadn’t been this happy around you in weeks, maybe even months. 

“It was. At least, by our standards.” Kendall chuckled a bit with the memory. “This is- it’s just great. Thank you.” You pulled him into another hug, he tucked his nose into your hair and planted a soft kiss on your head.

“I’m glad you like it. I really love you Ken, don’t forget that.” You looked into his eyes as you said it, a sad smile on your face at the intensity behind your words. He just nodded, squeezing you tight one last time before releasing your frame.

“Here, come on. I’m gonna show you something.” He took your hand then, leading you through the throng of people enjoying his birthday party, nobody sparing him a second glance as he walked by.

That was how you ended up with a rainbow bracelet around your wrist and a too-strong drink in your hand, standing behind the rope blocking off Kendall’s private treehouse from the rest of the party. Your clutch fell around your wrist loosely, your fingers prodding at the straw in your cocktail as your siblings bickered in front of you. 

“You’re getting worked up about a treehouse? Do you know how ridiculous that is?” Kendall shut the rope divider in front of Roman, turning his attention to a newcomer entering the space. “Hey, come in. Wristband him.” He nodded to the security guards.

“Yeah, wristband this guy. Uh, what’s his name?” 

“No idea.” 

“Good, so good. So random, unknown man and our baby sister can come in, but not us?” Roman talked with his arms, navy blue suit jacket riding up to show the skin of his wrists.     Shiv crossed hers as he spoke, rippling the green fabric at the front of her chest, eyes staring daggers into you.

“Yeah so the thing is, and- I already said this, she’s cool. You’re not.” Kendall gestured to you and you gave a weak smile to your excluded siblings.

“Fucking bullshit.” Roman ran a hand through his hair.

“See these two? Don’t let these two in okay. She’s good, they’re not.” Kendall pointed to the three of you as he talked to the guard, a tall blonde man in a black tshirt. “This is my treehouse. You shouldn’t be anywhere near here.” 

Shiv and Rome were in disbelief, still trying to reason with your eldest brother as he turned away from them and towards you. He put an arm on your back, guiding you to walk away from the scene and into the exclusive treehouse. You couldn’t help turning to look over your shoulder, glancing at your two neglected siblings with wide eyes. Roman had begun walking away, but Siobhan was still standing there, arms folded. As she caught your gaze, she rolled her eyes and shook her head in shock before finally moving to follow her brother deeper into the party, beginning to speak to him as she walked.

Kendall cursed under his breath as he led you into his treehouse. It was honestly eerie to see the structure again. You had too much of an age gap with Kendall to have played with him in it as a child, but on more than one occasion you had wandered up into it on your own, looking for a place to escape the aggressive family dynamic that arose wherever your siblings were in close proximity. There was even a time when you were a young teenager you had accidently busted Kendall for smoking weed in the treehouse during a family get together. He ended up paying you handsomely to keep quiet, which you did, never uttering a word about it to this day. You were nothing if not loyal.

The inside of this reconstructed treehouse was much different than the structure of your childhood. For one, it was massive. The treehouse you remembered could barely fit all four of you kids in it, definitely not the few dozen that stood milling about in the new space. The interior was dark. Black walls, wooden dividers and glass windows made up most of the area, with some modern light fixtures and lanterns set around to provide a warm glow. The outermost walls were made to look like the outdoors, a forest of sorts with shadows and cool tones to outline the trees. A wooden fence sat in front of the forest walls, making the entire space feel strangely like an outdoor balcony or patio. The music was lighter in this area, though still a techno party beat playing just loud enough that conversations were had in louder tones than normal. There were more earthy toned chairs, couches and tall tables filling the space than other areas in the event, and more partygoers milling about and chatting rather than dancing. 

“Oh here, come on.” Kendal had been talking, mostly to himself for a few seconds, just rambling about your shitty siblings. You tuned back into his words as he spoke in your ear and turned you in a specific direction with the hand on your lower back. Your eyes searched around the room, not recognizing what was drawing Kendall until he spoke again.

“There he is, Lukas Mattson. The Odin’ of codin’.” Finally you noticed the blonde man sitting just a few feet in front of you. His tall frame was dwarfed by the way he sat on the bench, lanky with one leg hitched up and a beer in his hand, but as he sat up you immediately recognized his face. “My man, my myth, my fucking monolith. What’s up bro? You havin’ a good time?”

“Do I look like I’m having a good time?” Lukas’s gaze darted from Kendall to yourself, your eye contact lingering for just a second long enough to provoke you to turn your stare to the ground in reservation.

“No, you do not.”

“I am not.” 

“Still haven’t figured out the socials, huh? Dude, you should get your algo guy to fix your code.” Your eyes lifted at that, and you smiled at the tone of your brother’s voice. Your hands came to raise the glass you had held at your side to your mouth. You drank through the thin black straw, the artificially colored liquid stinging your throat a bit as you swallowed heavily. Mattson didn’t respond to that, cocking his head at Kendall’s comment, pointedly looking at you, and shifting back to stare at him again.

“Oh uh yeah, this is my sister,” Kendall introduced you with your name, and you gave a small smile to Lukas in greeting. “Listen, heads up, my siblings are looking for you now.”

“And you led one of them straight to me?” He didn’t acknowledge your greeting, but his gaze continued to linger on you, a new softness behind his eyes.

“Yeah, well, she’s cool. She won’t try to get to sell your soul like the other two. Shiv and Roman, they’re like emissaries from the Grand Duke of Old. Dad wants to buy you, so he sent his winged dildos to schmooze.” 

“I shouldn’t say anything, even the look on my face is commercially sensitive.”

“But it makes, like, no sense, correct? Amtrak buys Tesla? If anything, you should buy him.” Your eyebrows furrowed the smallest bit at Kendall’s suggestion, turned your head to look up at him. He was too engrossed in his conversation to notice your confusion, but the way Mattson cocked an eyebrow showed that he did.

“You think?” You turned your attention back to Lukas, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, I really appreciate your impartial read.” He leaned his head towards Kendall, speaking lowly, like his words were a secret.

“ Kendall? Uh, Rava wants to say hi.” Comfrey had appeared behind you, moving quickly and quietly in a way you’d come to appreciate. You didn’t even notice her presence until she spoke, fidgeting with the phone in her hand.

“Sure, uh not right now. When I’m ready.” Kendall dismissed her and Comfrey slinked back into the shadows of the party, waiting for him to finish his conversation. “Listen, you should stay up here, okay? So you don’t get networked to fuck. Uh, here,” He spoke your name, addressing you for the first time since he’d begun talking to Lukas, “Keep the cronies away from him. And the sibs.”

“Um… okay.” It felt like more of a command than a request, but you agreed despite your annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy, man.” With a wave, Kendall left, following Comfrey into a new area of the night’s festivities.

You stood for a moment, awkward and self conscious, twirling your drink’s straw between your thumb and index finger. Biting your lower lip, you made eye contact with Mattson, realizing he had been staring at you this whole time.

“Hi, sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before.” You finally spoke, offering a small smile to the man in front of you. 

“No, we haven’t. I know you though. The youngest Roy? The virtuous daughter?” He motioned as he joked with you, the beer in his hand sloshing around in its brown glass bottle.

“I don’t know about that.” You laughed, moving to sit by him on the wooden bench he occupied. “You can’t believe everything you see in the media, I thought you would know that better than anyone.” 

“Maybe. Your lack of involvement with your family’s scandals speaks for itself, though. You’re a saint compared to your father and brothers.” His Swedish accent peeked through his words, making his sentences flow together like music.

“Well, I’ve had less time to fuck things up. I joined the company much later than them, I only finished college a few years ago.” Shrugging while you spoke, you tried your best to dismiss his implications. Your momentary status as a neutral bridge between your feuding family was something you couldn’t bear to lose.

Mattson hummed before answering, nodding his head slowly as he looked you up and down. “And you aren’t going to use this time to try and convince me to sell?” 

You shook your head, a shy smile coming to your face. “Honestly? I don’t really want to. I think you’ve already decided what you want to do, and no amount of my bargaining will change that.”

“You’re smart.”

“I try.”

Lukas grinned at you, “Do you always do what your brother tells you to?”

“No, I just want to make him happy.” You shook your head slightly, feeling a little embarrassed at your obvious obedience to your family. It’s not like you don’t think for yourself, it’s just that sometimes complying is easier than the alternative. “You’re not enjoying the party?”

“No. Are you?”

“Not really. Crowds aren’t my favorite thing. And these drinks are way too strong.” You set down your drink on the floor near the bench, the liquor was beginning to give you a headache.

“But you came to support Kendall?” You nodded. He raised his eyebrows. “And you still say you aren’t obedient to him?”

“I…” You bit your lip lightly, not sure of how much information you should really reveal to this man. He was an adversary, but something about Lukas made you want to be honest with him. Maybe it was his eyes, or his casual posture, but you felt like leaning into his warmth, however strange it may be. “Well, you did call me virtuous. Maybe I just need to rebel a little, give into impulses for once.”

It was a joke, you both knew it, but the smirk on Mattson’s face felt a bit serious. “That’s an idea.” 

You smiled at him, a little blush coming to your cheeks at the suggestion in his sentence. He had moved a bit closer to you through your conversation, and now his knee brushed gently against your. His hand comes down to innocently brush out a wrinkle in the skirt of your dress, resting gently on your thigh for a moment too long before moving away.

“Hey! There you are, fucking hiding from me. Like a human VPN.” The sound of Roman’s voice snapped the two of you from the silence of the shared moment. You quickly adjusted your posture so your leg was crossed away from Lukas, adding a bit of distance between your bodies. “I see someone already found you. How are you doing?”

“I’m all right, just enjoying the company. It’s just, uh, you can fill in the blanks.” You subtly glared at your brother as Mattson spoke, immediately aware of his attempt to cut you from the conversation.

“How’d you get up here Rome? I thought Kendall had you banned from the premises.” Roman perched on a chair across from the pair of you, rolling up his sleeves as he sat.

“I paid a girl to give the security a blowjob, what do you think?” Sarcasm was thick in his voice as he spoke to you. “Hey Mattson, uh, question. My old man- our old man,” He made a motion between you and himself, “got a bit grumpy this morning, but you weren’t trying to humiliate him, right? I mean, fucking everyone says, last big legacy content library, last big fucking super app streaming platform. We obviously fit right?” 

“People say we fit.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Roman runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tick you’ve come to know. You can tell he's worried at the frankness of Lukas’s responses.

 “Stargo is really, really shitty, though. Your genius would really help us out, if you end up selling to Waystar” You raised your eyebrows as you addressed Lukas. The anxiety radiating off of Roman made you want to pitch in, help him, although you still thought your haggling wouldn’t affect Mattson’s final decision.

 “I do have one question before we start these.. negotiations. Like, I don’t wanna be rude but.. What kind of shape is your father in? How long will he be around, we’re talking one year… five years..?”  Roman is shocked quiet at Mattson’s forwardness, his hands running down the sides of his face as he tried to formulate a response that won’t fuck the deal he’s working to build.

“Well, you mean, you just don’t want him hanging over you, right? Looking over your shoulder all the time, especially while you work” You ask in his stead. Lukas nods. “Well what if you don’t have to talk to him? Like, ever?” Looking over to Roman, you try to throw him a lead to jump back into the conversation.

“Yeah, you work out of, uh, Austin, London, Stockholm, Geneva, whatever. It’s just totally separate companies and we burn Stargo.” Rome catches up, making a contribution to your schmoozing. “And on the occasion that you need to send up a fսcking smoke signal from Geneva, then that goes through me.”

“We can do that together.”

“So, I know GoJo is your baby, and we don’t want to interfere with that at all. So, bearing that in mind, would you consider meeting with my dad?” Roman clasps his palms together and points them towards Lukas.

“Yeah, well, if all this is true, then... yeah.”

“How's Monday?” 

“Monday is great.”

“And if I were to shake your hand right now, could I go tell my dad that I basically just bought GoJo for him?” 

“No.” Lukas chuckles, pauses to take a sip from his beer. “But you can tell him I'm in the conversation.”

“I’ll fucking take it.” Roman smiles and takes a deep breath before standing from his seat. “I will see you then, I have a call to make” He pulls his phone out as he walks away, already starting to dial in the numbers.

You take a moment to be silent, watching his frame fade into the crowd until you turn to Lukas. He’s looking at you too, head tilted and grin plastered across his face.

“I thought Kendall told you not to let him speak to me.”

“I thought I told you, I’m trying to be more rebellious.” You smile back at him, switching the way you cross your legs to let your bare knee touch the fabric of his pants. 

You stay that way, speaking to Mattson and letting him subtly touch your arm, back, leg, for the better part of an hour. It hadn’t been your plan to stay so long, just make a quick appearance for Kendall’s sake and head home before midnight, but you found yourself not wanting to end your dialog with Lukas, causing you to push back your exit further and further. He grabs you a new drink from one of the servers walking through the party, a cocktail that luckily tastes much better than your previous refreshment. Well, maybe not so luckily, since you end up drinking enough to get yourself buzzed and bolder than normal. 

You’re self aware enough to draw back when you notice your siblings entering the room again, Roman giving a small wave before heading to a different seating area. You don’t pay him much mind until Shiv enters the area as well, hair frizzy and makeup smudged. She seems pissed, he seems drunk, it all looks like a recipe for failure. Roman perches on a chair, glass of wine in his hand, Shiv turns to leave but gets drawn by some comment he makes.

“I’m sorry- maybe I should…” You look back at Mattson, your conversation had lulled for a few seconds as your attention had turned to your siblings.

“Have to go babysit?” He smiles at you, a bit condescending, but not enough to make you upset. You don’t respond for a second, biting your lip and looking between your current company and the scene between your family. 

“I just…” The words come at as a sigh, your head lulling back in exhaustion as you notice Kendall and Naomi breaking through the crowd to engage in Shiv and Roman’s antics. “Things always get out of hand when I’m not there to mediate. But I’m so fucking tired of having to be the good one all the time” 

“You don’t have to be, just take a step back, watch shit unfold. Rebel, remember?” Mattson’s blue eyes are dark in the lighting and his eyebrows are raised, daring you. You smile, nod, take a sip of your drink. “It’s actually good entertainment when you aren’t involved.” 

Deciding to take a break from your role as peacemaker, you turn to face your siblings in your seat, the same direction Lukas is sitting. You feel his bent knee brush against your back and lean into a bit, something not visible from your sibling’s position. You allow yourself to stay that way until you notice Roman moving to get up. That sparks you to rise, set your drink down, murmur an apology to Lukas, and quickly run over to the circle of your siblings.

“You know you want to, just fucking hit me, do it. ‘I’m not a real person’ fuck you.” Rome’s words are charged, he’s too close to Kendall for your comfort and you see his next action coming a mile away, without any way to stop it. “All right, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Happy birthday fuckface.” 

Two hands hand on Kendall’s back as he turns to walk away, a push from them sending him falling onto his face in the middle of the party. You know Roman didn’t mean to push him so hard, he wasn’t thinking clearly, but the result was the same regardless of his intent.

“What the fuck Rome? Why would you do that?” You move to help Kendall up with Naomi, turning your head to yell at your other brother, who was laughing at his actions.

“Everybody just take it easy, okay?” You didn’t even notice Connor’s presence until he spoke.

“Oh shit, are you okay? Happy birthday.” Roman laughed through his words. Kendall pushed you away from him in embarrassment when he stood, Naomi giving you a look telling you that she had it covered.

“Take your coat off. Take your fucking coat off.” He didn’t look back at Roman, didn’t address his comments, just spat anger at Connor as he was ushered away. Just a few hours ago he was fine, you didn’t know what could’ve caused him to crash so hard since you’d last seen him.

“Like a fucking eight year old. You're an asshole.” Shiv speaks briefly before marching away, Roman still giggling at his own antics.

“It’s funny. It’s funny! You’re gonna laugh at it later.”

You moved to face your brother, pushing his shoulder back against the chair he had moved to sit in. “Clean your fucking act up. You do one thing right and think you can get away with anything. I love you, but don’t be so fucking stupid, Roman.” Your words seem to break through, he stops laughing for a minute to shoot you a dirty look. Not waiting to see his response, you turn and quickly walk towards the nearest exit of the area, pulling your phone out of your clutch to message your driver.

“Leaving?” Lukas’s voice next to you startles you, and you shoot him a weak smile.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I need to get out of here. I just can’t be near them right now.” He walks with you, humming in understanding as you speak.

“Why don’t you leave with me? Get your mind off them.” You stop walking then, now only a few yards from the exit of the venue. Crossing your arms, you lightly rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

“If someone found out…”

“Think for yourself. Be impulsive for once.”

His words give you pause. Normally you would deny him, deny the aching between your thighs that his presence gave you. You’d head home and masturbate until you passed out, report to your Dad in the morning, never speak to the man again. But you were so, so tired of being good.

“Okay. Let’s do it. My driver’s here, we can pull around and pick you up in a few minutes.” Thinking quickly, you come up with a simple plan to stop the public from seeing you leave together. He nods, smiles, and reaches for your phone. You let him take it, let him put his number in and hand it back to you, fingers lingering on yours.

“Text me when you’re here.”

The ride to Lukas’s hotel room is intense. You have enough discretion to raise the divider between the front and back seats of the car, blocking the view of yourself from your driver. But once that black panel separated you, Mattson was merciless. He wasted no time in pulling you into his lap, kissing you roughly and palming your chest with his large hands. You barely came up for breath the entire ride to his hotel, and when you did your neck was immediately attacked. He marked your skin with hickeys and bites, leaving you gasping for air. Trying your best to quiet your moans and whimpers, you covered your mouth with your hand whenever you could, but you doubted your driver couldn’t hear the noises Lukas pulled from you. You tipped them an extra thousand dollars just in case.

He gave you a break while you hurried through the hotel, standing close to you but not touching you, even in the elevator. It gave you plausible deniability. Though if your reflection was any judge, the already darkening marks on your neck spoke for themselves. Mattson is so stoic in public it has you questioning if he even wants this. If he wants you the way that he did in the car. But, as he holds the door open for you to enter his hotel suite, your question is answered.

The hotel suite is modern, with several separate rooms adorned in black, white, and gray decorations. The farthest wall of the living room, the space you’ve walked into, consists of glass windows which offer a gorgeous view of the city’s nighttime lights. You take a moment to look around, throwing your clutch over to an entryway table and walking towards the windows. Your reflection is just barely visible in the glass, your silhouette a sliver of light against the darkness of the New York skyline. Your head tilts to the side a bit, and you reach a hand forward to press against the glass. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your bloodstream, or the lust making your heart beat faster than normal, but you don’t even notice Lukas approach until his reflection joins yours in the window. You look up and slightly behind you, catching his eyes with yours. His pupils are wide and dark, his lids heavy and narrowed with intent. 

He places a hand on your chin, tilting you up as he bends down to reach your lips. It starts soft, lips barely parted and eyes closed. Your body follows the tilt of your head, moving to face him and place your hands around his neck. His hands travel to your butt, using his leverage to press you against him. His tongue slips inside your mouth, his movements speed up. Hands begin to grope at your ass, squeezing and pawing you through your gown. It’s rough, but there’s no anger or malice behind his moments, only eagerness.

A hand moves up to the small of your back, lightly rubbing the fabric on your skin in an almost soothing motion. When you finally break the kiss for air, Lukas moves, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to place sloppy kisses there. You’re breathless, but craving his mouth so badly you direct his head back up to yours with a hand in his hair. He groans into your mouth when you press your chest against his, your boobs straining against your dress. The kisses become dirty and wet. He bites at your lower dip and pulls it a bit. You trace the roof of his mouth with your tongue. Your thighs are squeezing together now, softly grinding into each other to provide some kind of sensation to your throbbing clit. 

You finally say something when his hands move to pull up the skirt of your dress, breaking the kiss with an inhale for breath before quickly speaking.

“Wait, wait.” He does. Pauses his movements but keeps his fingers in the fabric of the dress. “I’m -I uh, haven’t had sex before. And I don’t want to lose my virginity to someone I’m not dating. Or like, in a relationship with.” 

“Okay. Can I still make you cum?”

“Oh, um, sure. Yes.” He’s unfazed by your words, gives you a little smile and another messy kiss before dipping to kneel in front of you. He presses soft kisses to your lower stomach, just barely lifting your dress to expose the very bottom of your panties. When he moves to kiss the front of your mound though, you freeze.

“What are you doing?”

“I was planning on eating your pussy. Is that okay?”

“You want to do that?”

“I would like to, yes.”

“Uh, yeah, okay. I just haven't done this before.” He looks up at you with his piercing blue eyes, waiting until you give him a firm answer. “Can you maybe just tell me what you’re doing? Like, before you do it?”

“I can do that.”

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You smile down at him, blushing a bit in embarrassment from your lack of knowledge. He returns a small grin, before moving to kiss the front of your pubic bone again. This time, you let him.

He muzzles his nose into the fabric there briefly, before moving his fingers to rub against your panties. They’re soaked, drenched from your time in the car and the heavy making out you had just finished. He chuckles lowly to himself as he feels this, his touch featherlight.

“You’re so wet. Are you that turned on already?” You bite your lower lip and nod, chest beginning to rise and fall quicker.

“I’m going to touch you underneath your panties, is that okay?”

“Yes.”

He nods at you then, using his thumb to hook your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to the cold night air. Two long fingers move on either side of your slit, giving pressure just outside of where you need it so badly. You whimper at his motions, muffling the sound by pressing your lips together. His index finger moves then, gently grazing over your clit as it travels the length of your vulva, collecting wetness as it does. A few gentle circles around your entrance before returning to your clit, finally pressing there and beginning to trace patterns into the bundle of nerves.

It feels divine. You’d gotten good at pleasing yourself with your twenty plus years of abstinence, but it felt so delicious to have someone else touch the most sensitive parts of your body. Especially someone who knew what they were doing. And from the way Lukas was moving, he knew exactly what he was doing. His index finger drew circles with your clit, joined shortly after by his middle finger to fully pressure the bud. Your head tips back then, brushing the window behind you as a moan escapes your mouth. 

“Don’t fight your noises, I want to hear how good you feel.” The only response you have to his command is to let another whine pass your lips, an action which you hear him groan at. Your fingers move down to grab at your dress, pulling it higher up to expose your bottom half fully, balling your hands into fists in the fabric.

“Fuck, I’m taking these off.” The pressure on your clit stops for a moment, and you lean your head down to look at him. His fingers loop in the sides of your panties to pull them down your thighs. As they reach your calves, you move a hand to his shoulder and stabilize yourself so you can raise your feet out of the garment. You step your last foot out of your panties, and instead of discarding them to the floor, Lukas balls the fabric up, stuffing it in his back pants pocket. He just smiles up at your confused expression, not bothering to explain.

“I’m going to taste you now, okay?”

You nod, and Lukas moves close to you, so close you end up with your back pressed against the window. He lightly holds one of your legs, moving it up and over his shoulder, allowing him better access to your now naked cunt. He leans forward, and with the flat of his tongue, licks a long stripe across your pussy. The feeling is new and exciting, hot and wet and just the right amount of strength. You move a hand to thread through his hair, your other one pressing against the glass behind you to hold you in place. 

His tongue fucks you like you’re his favorite taste, diving in and out of your already soaked folds. When he sucks your clit into his mouth, you choke back more of a scream than a moan. The leg on his shoulder begins to shake, and your brows knit together in ecstasy. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before, you don’t ever want it to stop. Your climax begins building at a rapid pace, and you feel yourself grinding against Lukas’s tongue, chasing your pleasure with impulsive motions. He lets out a low moan against you, a buzzing hum that vibrates through your body. 

“Fuck Lukas, please don’t stop.” The words come out breathless, followed by a whimper and preceded by a groan. He hums against you again and doubles his efforts, moving his tongue to fuck into your enterance while two fingers come up to rub quickly against your clit. It’s only a few seconds before the tension building in your stomach finally snaps, and with a languid moan you fall apart under Lukas Matsson’s tongue. 

You aren’t even sure what noises escape your lips, too lost in bliss to focus on anything but absolute pleasure. He keeps eating you out until you’re over sensitive and almost pushing his face away, and even then he continues lightly stroking your folds with a few fingers. When you look down at him, his chin is covered in your juices and his pants are tented with an obvious erection.

“Oh my god.”

“That good?” 

“Kiss me again?”

He does, of course. Raises from his knees to grab your chin and pull you into his body, not bothering to wipe his mouth before capturing your lips with his. You can taste yourself on him, tangy and rich and intoxicating. The flavor only spurs you on, pressing your lips to his roughy. He’s hard against your stomach, a feeling that both arouses you and causes some anxiety. Lukas seems content to kiss you forever, tasting your lips like a man starved. When he pulls away to kiss down your neck, you take a moment to speak.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I… want you to feel good too.” 

“You want to get me off?” You nod in response.

“Will you show me what to do? What you like?” 

“Sure. Here, come with me.” He smiles at you, grabs your hand with his, and gently leads you over to the couch in the room. It’s a big, white sectional facing a massive TV. Lukas moves to sit back against it, gently pulling you to sit close to him, nearly sitting in his lap. His erection is even more obvious in this position, his length looking painfully hard against his thigh.

“Can I touch you?” You look up at him with wide eyes, your hand moving to his thigh while you wait for a response. He leans back and nods at you, a slightly cocky grin on his face. Gently, so gently, your hand moves to palm over his cock. He hums as you make contact, quietly encouraging your timid rubbing. 

Fingers explore the imprint of his length in his pants, finger tracing the outline of his cock cautiously. You looked up at him through your lashes, noticing the way his face twitched and changed with your increases in pressure. Pressing a bit harder, you touch him with long strokes, beginning a pattern with your movements. Lukas’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. Something in his stare feels animalistic, like a predator watching its prey. Maybe that should scare you, but if anything it stirs you on, makes you want to please him even more.

“Will you take these off?” Your hands move to his waistband, finger slipping underneath the fabric there, pulling it teasingly from his skin. 

“Of course.” He smirks, uses the back of the couch to prop his hips up, and slowly pulls his pants down his thighs. He doesn’t bother with leaving his briefs, pulling his underwear off with the same motion, leaving only exposed skin in his wake. 

His cock springs up, brushing against his shirt slightly, leaving a small wet spot from the precum on his tip. He’s long, not that you have much to compare it to, and thin, with a red-pink head already leaking. You take a moment to touch him again, slowly sliding your hand across the skin of his thigh until your fingers graze the short blonde hairs at the base of his shaft. Your hand wraps around him, fingers barely touching. His dick is double the length of your hand, standing tall with a slight curve upwards. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t intimidated. Slowly, eyes flickering from Lukas’s face to your hand and back again, you began to stroke him. Your hand gently raised from his base to tip, your thumb grazing over his slit. This elicits a soft gasp from Lukas, a sound that makes you give him a shy smile. The hand on his cock moves back down, your other moving to rest gently on his thigh as you slightly adjust to face him better. Your motions are stuttering and unpracticed, hindered by the dryness of both your skin. Lukas doesn’t seem to mind, his breath coming faster and his hips slightly moving to guide the travel of your hand. 

“I think…” You bite your lower lip in thought, your eyebrows coming together as your sentence trails off. Bending over Lukas’s lap slightly, you look up at him through your dark eyelashes, and let a string of spit fall from your tongue onto his cock. 

The effect on him is immediate, a deep curse falling from his lips as his dick twitches in your grip. His head falls back against the couch, his eyes shut softly. You don’t know if it’s the sensation of the spit on his sensitive tip, or the fact that you were doing something so dirty, but he seems to love your impulsive choice. Your hand gets into a better rhythm, moving much easier as you spread the wetness across the skin of his cock.

“Fuck, how did you know about that?” Lukas is breathless, but still chuckling through his words. 

“I didn't, it just seemed like you needed something wet…” 

He curses again, hums in agreement. You just blush in response, moving your attention back to his length in front of you. Your grip tightens, your motions speed up a bit. The sound of skin fills the room, joined by low hums and moans from Lukas’s throat. The heat between your thighs begins to return, a dull throb causing you to grind your thighs together.

“Does that feel good?” Your voice is quiet and laced with desire when you speak.

“Mhm.” A lazy grin is on Lukas’s face, his arms are spread wide across the back of the couch. “You’re doing so good.”

The compliment goes straight to your cunt, sparks traveling down your thighs at the praise. You move faster, leaning into him more as your hand speeds up, giving him a view of your cleavage. You don’t even notice the desperate whimper that escapes you, but he does.

“Just like that, fuck. Good. Good girl.” Lukas sits up more, a hand moving rest on your thigh as his body begins to tense up. His eyebrows pull together as you continue stroking. Your motions have gotten rough and fast, a physical exhibition of the desperation running through your veins. A string of curses heavily veiled in a Swedish accent leaves Lukas’s mouth, his hips buck roughly into your fist, and with a groan, Lukas Mattson comes in your hand.

Strings of white coats your skin, the fabric of your skirt, the bottom of Lukas’s shirt. He continues thrusting into your hand, chasing his release until he falls against the couch, panting and smiling and spent. Your eyes travel from his face to the ribbons of come on your hand. Instinctually, you bring it to your mouth, licking up the liquid before your thoughts get in the way. 

“You are insane.” Lukas’s voice brings you back to the world. He reaches over and guides you to move into his lap. You straddle him, his softening cock sandwiched between your torsos. He’s all smiles, face blissed out and eyes soft. He brings a hand to your chin, looking into your eyes before placing a surprisingly light kiss to your lips. 

Things are quiet for a moment, your head tucked into Lukas’s neck and his hands around the small of your back. It feels delicate, almost loving, almost corny. It partially scares you, being so intimate with someone you’ve just met, with someone so powerful. But the captivation outweighs the fear. He feels like the Earth; strong, devoted, all-consuming. You could try to leave but he would be everywhere, and you would come back to him.

You stay at Lukas’s that night, wrapped in white sheets with his arm thrown languidly across your waist. In the morning, he tells you that’s the best he’s slept in weeks. You let him see you with smeared makeup and messy hair, listen to him talk about Stockholm and pasta and the sun. He texts you to make sure you get home safe, then texts you a photo of him working on his laptop. You can’t help the smile that comes to your face when you talk to him, one so obvious you have to hide it in public. He calls you every night. 

It’s the closest you’ve come to a relationship, even if it’s something you need to hide from the world. He’s funny and weird and bold and drastic. You feel his hands on your skin in your dreams, like your body is a memory of his touch. He makes you happy, makes you perverted. Things move fast and slow at the same time. It’s confusing and clear all at once.

You’d choose it all over again if you could go back

© secondhand-snow 2024

[ichorai]

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

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

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

words ; 32.0k

themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, talks of sexual misconduct (cruises incidents), mentions of death, a lot of sexual/suicidal jokes and general foul language, a lot of business talk, phone sex & a handjob, degradation, roman’s implied demisexuality, reader's got a tooth motif bcs all the other roy sibs have their own motifs, a lot of morally grey shit

series masterlist. main masterlist.

The Roy’s summer home in the Hamptons was nothing short of grand. That was always the bare minimum for the family, after all. Though you had been preoccupied with work, having a lot piled up because of your time off for Shiv’s wedding—you had dropped quite a few important meetings to come at Logan’s behest. He called for you, and for all his children, to come to the Hamptons and discuss his plans to sell the company.

You stepped into the home, hands buried within your pockets. Immediately, you were hit by an overwhelmingly foul stench. It smelled an awful lot like rotten meat and, strangely, the piss-sodden alleyways in New York. Your face twisted into a grimace as you strode in, finding Kendall wandering aimlessly downstairs.

“Hey, uh, hi,” he said, awkwardly reaching for a hug when you stuck your arm out for a handshake. The both of you gingerly stepped away from each other.

“What’s that smell?” you asked, knowing full and well that Roman and Shiv were still quite angry with him for basically stabbing them in the back.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I think they’re trying to figure that out,” he replied, waving his hands around to gesture to the milling workers. “You, uhm, you’ll get used to it. Listen, Y/N, I know you and Rome are close, so I just wanted to ask if you could… talk to him. For me.”

Arching a brow, you tilted your head. “You can’t talk to him yourself?”

“He’s not… he’s being difficult right now.”

“Understandably so.”

There was a melancholic look to his eyes. “I know. Can you just tell him I’m sorry? I want… I want us to be okay.”

Pursing your lips, you gave him a firm nod. “Okay, yeah, sure. No promises that it’d change anything, though. You know where he is?”

“By the beach. With Shiv.”

With a hum of farewell, you started backing off, making your way to the sandy shores not too far from the house. You spotted their figures in the distance, bundled in dark coats and long scarves. When they spotted you approaching, the both of them waved.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted, smiling brightly.

“Hey, fuck-face,” said Roman, giving you a quick hug, before stepping back to allow Shiv to do the same. “We were all waiting for you.”

“Sorry I’m late—work has been kicking my ass lately.” 

Snorting, Roman quipped, “You know you can take a couple days to relax, right? I’m literally your boss.”

“I’m a general manager, Rome. If I stop, that’s a large chunk of Waystar down. I’m trying to keep the company from sinking further into the depths of hell,” you said lightly, crossing your arms. “But it seems like Logan wants to sell it away. What’s our viewpoint?”

The both of them struggled for words.

“If the selling isn’t actually real… like some kind of fucked-up loyalty test, we were just talking about how dad’s going to kill Kendall,” said Shiv, looking none too upset about the prospect. “How that would mean it could be Rome who takes up the mantle.”

That made sense. Connor was not an option, not in Logan’s eyes. He was barely a son to the man, much less the heir to his legacy.

“It could,” you said, careful. “It could also mean you, though.”

 Both you and Roman stared Shiv down. 

Finally, she caved and shook her head with a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Yes, it could be me.”

Sensing that the two of them were on the verge of another catfight, you quickly intercepted, “I bumped into Kendall in the house just now. He wanted me to, uhm, tell you that he’s sorry.”

Roman’s features twisted. “Well, tell him he can stick his apologies up his ass.”

“I’m not a fucking messenger! Tell him that yourself.”

Rolling her eyes, Shiv jerked her head back to the house. “We should probably get back inside. Dad’s gonna be here any minute by now.”

It was on your trek back that the three of you bumped into Kendall, who was wearing sunglasses even though the sky wasn’t all that visible through the gloomy clouds. Both Shiv and Roman didn’t hesitate to duke out their frustrations on him, asking why he changed his mind on the takeover so quickly. 

“You do realize how fucked you’re going to be once you’re no longer of any use to him, right?” asked Roman to his older brother. “He’s got you eating fuckin’ humiliation gumbo on TV, and then what? Nothing.”

Snickering, Shiv added in, “Dad’s gonna play a merry tune on you and then throw you out the fucking window. You know that, right?”

“He’s like a sex robot for dad to fuck,” said Rome.

“He’s like a beaten dog.”

“He’s both of those things—and also a piece of shit.”

To your surprise, Kendall stood by and took all the insults his siblings lobbied at him, expression permanently fixed into one of unadulterated misery. A part of you felt bad for him, but another part of you knew he’d brought this upon himself.

Shiv stepped closer to him, each one of her words saturated in venom. “He’s a fucking narcissist who repeatedly puts his self-interest above everything else, and then tries to justify it with half-assed appeals of the rigors of the fucking market.”

“You’re a fucking prick,” Roman finally tacked on after Shiv’s mini-monologue. He glanced over at you. “Y/N, you wanna throw a punch?”

“What were you thinking, Kendall?” you quietly asked. “In what world did you see yourself winning against your father? And even if you did win, it’d be at the cost of your siblings. Would you kill them for your own personal gain? And not to mention that you relapsed and you’re not getting the help you need. You didn’t even thank Roman and I for picking you up from that addict’s shithole. We got you out of there because we were worried for you. We care about you. And you threw that right back in his face.”

Your words lingered heavily between the four of you. 

When Kendall remained as silent as a statue, Roman let out a loud groan, rolling his eyes to the side. “Come on! Fight back, you fuck-bag.”

“Guys, I just… I…” Kendall paused to look off into the waters. “I can’t get into it.”

“Oh, you can’t get into it? Shucks,” Roman mocked. “Fuck you. Come on, man. Treat us! Why did you actually back out?”

Shame flooded his features. He completely disregarded Roman’s question by telling his little sister, “I’m sorry, Shiv. About the wedding.”

There were tears in her eyes. Her father had made her cry after ruining family therapy, and now her older brother was making her cry after ruining her wedding. 

“How dare you apologize to me?” she asked, a sharp edge to her tone. With that, she rotated on her heel and strode off. 

You and Roman followed after her, your arm linked with his.

“You look like shit, by the way,” Roman murmured to his brother as he brushed past him.

By the time you got back to the house, you caught sight of the cooks dumping the expensive food they’d been preparing and laboring over for hours straight into the trash. When you wondered aloud what was going on, one of them quietly answered that they’d found the source of the smell—a dead raccoon covered in maggots, rotting in the chimney. Logan demanded all the food be removed because it’d been sitting around in the stench, calling for pizza to be ordered instead. 

When lunch rolled around, you sat between Roman and Kendall, feeling incredibly tense. The atmosphere between the siblings had yet to clear, and you weren’t quite sure if it ever would. The chatter died away when Logan cleared his throat sharply to quell the commotion and greet the family.

He began with a blunt address of the bear hug situation, which you noticed made Kendall’s foot tap against the floor in agitation.

“I guess the question is… do we really want this fight?” he asked. “Or is now the moment to cash in and fuck off out of the casino?”

Silence. He was met with dead silence.

“If we do fight, I need to tell the board who I want to take over,” said Logan. “So, please—I want you to speak freely.”

His words made Shiv tip her head back and scoff-laugh. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law?”

“Come on! We’re pals here. Let’s fuckin’ have it out!” gruffed Logan as he surveyed the table.

As if to purposefully push her father’s buttons, Shiv crossed her arms and pointedly kept her mouth shut. 

Tentative, Kendall spoke, “I think you should fight, but, uh… you’re the one who built it all. The man, the myth, the legend.”

In a condescending tone, Roman crooned, “Aw. That’s adorable. You’re always lookin’ out for Pops, aren’t you?”

“But is he saying Dad should stay on because that’s what Sandy and Stewy would want?” asked Connor with a frown, ever the conspiracist. “How do we know he’s not a double agent?”

“Nice to see you, too, Con,” mumbled Kendall.

Shaking his head, the older brother said, “Hey, Ken, I’m just saying what others are thinking.”

“It’s possible,” Shiv added, narrowing her eyes.

“Should we frisk him for a wire? Burn him? See if he’s a witch?” joked Roman, scratching at the back of his head.

Interrupting the banter, Logan said, “He’s taken his medicine.”

“Taken his medicine?” Shiv parroted in an affronted manner. “Is that it? Dad—you beat Roman with a fucking slipper in Gustav until he cried for ordering lobster, remember? And Kendall tries to kill you and he’s only five minutes out in the cold?”

You remembered that day. When you’d casually told Roman that you preferred lobster over crab. How he tried to order it for you instead of what was already on the table, and how an already ticked-off Logan was tipped over the edge and lost his shit, taking his frustrations out on Roman. The memory of the actual beating itself was hazy—all you could recall were thuds and muffled whimpers, fearful tears on your cheeks. The purple bruises on his face didn’t fade away for a long while. He would try to joke about it, but you never found it funny. You had apologized over and over again, until Roman told you to shut up and forget about it, nonchalantly adding that he wanted the lobster, too. That it wasn’t just for you.

But it was. It was all yours, had Roman been successful in acquiring the crustacean for you. You didn’t need to know that, though.

Trying his best to shrug off Shiv’s words, Roman tilted his head to the side and quipped, “Well, it’s not polite to order the most expensive item on the menu when you’re not paying, Siobhan.”

Logan could dump a billion dollars into an incinerator and that would barely even make a dent on how much wealth he was hoarding, you wanted to say. You kept your mouth firmly shut, biting down on your tongue.

As per typical Logan fashion, he brushed off the call-out of his abuse to his son. “We’re not doing memory lane here. Come on, spit it out. What do you all think? Stick or sell?”

“Well, I think you’re in the prime of your life,” chimed Tom. “I think another decade is just what the doctor ordered.”

From beside you, Roman’s knee nudged into yours as he began miming choking on a dick. You smiled, almost laughing out loud, but caught yourself before you did. 

“I, uhm, I think selling seems cool…” began Willa.

“Hey, Dad, Willa thinks selling seems cool!” snorted Roman, which made Willa fall uncomfortably silent.

With a disapproving stare, Connor bit out, “Asshole.”

“You,” said Logan. It took you a moment to realize that he was staring directly at you. Heat prickled at the back of your neck. “What do you think?”

You sat up straighter in your chair. “You’ll be rich enough to live a thousand lives if you sell. You’ll still be rich enough to do so if you stay in the game. The only difference is, you lose your legacy if you go with the former.”

Scrutinizing you, Logan dipped his head and took a sip of champagne. “Mmh, wise words, sure. Not your opinion, though. Not what I asked for. Those are just facts we all fuckin’ know. Bah—don’t waste my time. Fucking useless. Leeching off of me while your parents are parading in a nameless exotic country, drinking their brains into toxic liquid that leaks out of their ears.”

Shame curled within your stomach, and a blistering flush spidered through your skin. You could feel all eyes on you, including Roman’s. You were no stranger to Logan’s verbal abuse, but it’d been a long time since he brought up your parents' and their neglectful nature. The wounds were reopened, and stung much worse than you remembered.

Drumming her fingers against the table, Shiv said, “Dad, I think it’s possible that you’ve somewhat chilled the atmosphere of free-flowing debate here.”

“You know, Kodak was trading at about a hundred dollars a share back in ‘97. Yesterday, you could pick it up for about three bucks. That could be us. If we cash out, we could walk away with ten billion.” Logan glanced at his youngest son, noticing how he’d shuffled his chair closer to you. “Roman. What do you think?”

Swallowing, Roman shrugged. “I dunno, Dad. I fuckin’ love money, but I’m really scared of you, so…” He made a high-pitched noise, barely passable as a laugh. “Yeah, uhm, honestly—I’m not sure I’m willing to give my strategic advice in a public forum when I could just be a, uh, a player in any future moves.”

There was obvious exasperation in Logan’s eyes. Disappointments, the lot of you were in his eyes. Without another word, Logan stood up and began to hobble out of the dining room, pizza left untouched. 

“Uhm, Dad?” Roman called out after him, confused. 

He didn’t respond.

Roman patted your back twice before getting up as well, following after his father. Shiv was hot on his heels.

One by one, Logan had told them through the door he had closed behind him. He wanted his kids to come in one by one, alone, so that he could have their unfiltered opinion.

Roman went in first, but not before squeezing your hand, and slipping through. When he emerged only ten minutes later, his face was despondent. But his lips were twitching upwards, and you could immediately tell that he was just faking it.

“He’s dying,” he joked with faux anguish. “Riddled with cancer.”

The way Shiv’s brows kinked told him that she didn’t find it all that funny. “Rome.”

“What? It’s a joke. It’s funny. Dad’s got cancer. What’s not funny about that?” You patted his back and nudged him over to the couches, where Connor and Willa were sitting.

The eldest son rolled his eyes. “Sick puppy,” he called Roman.

“No, but seriously, he asked me to run the company.” Dead silence. “I’m kidding. Or am I?”

It was then that Logan called for Shiv to go in. You took Roman’s arm, leading him off into another room, where it was quieter.

“Hope you’re not planning on molesting me back here,” Roman languidly commented, but didn’t fight off your grip. “Nobody would believe me after what I said about Dad—I’d be like the boy who cried wolf.”

“Rome,” you said, partially exasperated, partially somber. “What did he say back there?”

The man across from you scratched at the back of his head. “Honestly? Nothing.”

“Hm?”

“I mean—I explained to him that it’d be smart to sell some shit, keep some shit. Financialize the company. I don’t know. Couldn’t really gauge his reaction—then he just said okay and told me I could go.” Your friend rested his hands on his hips. “Do you think that was smart? Do you, uhm, think he thinks that was stupid?”

It took you another moment to shake your head tentatively. “I think you did the best you could, given the ultimatum. Besides—you wouldn’t really want to run this shitshow, would you?”

He stepped back in an affronted manner. “What do you mean? You don’t think I can do it?”

“It’s not a matter of whether or not you can do it, Ro. It’s about if you want to or not. And I know you wouldn’t. It’s not… it’s not you. You’ve always said the company was like a cage for you.”

The way Roman squared his shoulders told you that he was growing defensive. “Yeah, well, it’s like a fuckin’—a good fuckin’ golden cage. An amazing cage. A cage where I can roll around and throw shit at people. I’d like to stay here for the rest of my life.”

“Do you? Really?”

“What, is this some kind of reverse psychology bullshit Dad put you up to? Just—” He stepped back when you reached out for him. “Fuck off.”

With a huff, you shook your head. “Roman, you need to pull your head out of your fucking ass and realize that I’m the only friend you have. If you can’t trust me, you’re fucked.”

There was a tense beat of silence between you.

Then, he narrowed his eyes on you. “If you stab my back, I’m going to kill you, then throw myself off the highest building I can find. It’ll be like a Shakespearean tragedy.”

“Okay, Rome.”

“I’ll put your head on a spike. Keep it as decoration.”

Slowly, he let you wrap your arms around him. “Okay, Romeo.”

“I’ll pluck your teeth out and wear them around my neck like a string of pearls.”

“Love you, too, Ro,” you said, hugging him tight.

“Yeah, whatever, fuck-face.” He buried his nose into your neck, inhaling sharply. “I knew you were going to molest me.”

The family reconvened later that night, where Logan announced that he decided he was going to keep the company, claiming his ambitions to be the last man standing. Then, he pronounced Roman and Kendall as co-chief operating officers, much to everyone’s dismay.

“We need to stick tight—tighter than ever now,” Logan defended when Roman began to protest. 

“But he—no. No, I’m sorry. Excuse me? He… he tried to help your oldest enemy to take over and now he’s getting a fucking promotion? Is that what’s happening?” Rome asked from beside you, arms crossed over his chest. 

The old man nodded. “That’s my decision.”

“Well, it’s bullshit,” Roman declared.

Quiet settled over the group. 

Like a dog being kicked, Roman withered away beneath his father’s contemptuous stare. You put a hand on his shoulder. 

“And you’re going to name a successor?” Connor asked.

“After some consideration, I think we just need a name to flag privately to big investors for now. I mean, it could be anyone. I’m not going anywhere. Could be a stuffed fuckin’ shirt. Could be Y/N, for all I know.”

Did he just compare you to a stuffed shirt—?

“Gerri,” said Logan. “It could be Gerri. We might as well say it’s Gerri.”

With a quirked brow, Shiv said, “Congratulations.”

Her godmother tilted her head and shifted in her seat. “Wow. Okay. Thank you.”

“It won’t be Gerri,” Logan rudely clarified. “But Gerri’s fine. Just so we’re clear.”

She was an expert at hiding her disdain, clearing her throat slightly. “No, yeah, I think we’re very clear.”

With that, Logan dismissed himself, calling for Kendall to follow after him. His number one boy.

It was clear that Roman was still upset. He pulled away from you to go sulk about to his sister.

That night, when the moon shone brighter in the Roy’s summer home than it ever did in the city, and you were buried under a thick blanket, you felt the mattress dip beneath another person’s weight. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Roman.

“Shut up,” he gruffed when you smiled ever so slightly, even though you hadn’t said anything.

You hummed pleasantly when he curled his arms around your form like a koala would a tree. The two of you fell asleep that way, breathing each other in and dreaming of necklaces made of teeth.

The acquisition to take on PGM was a bad fucking idea. One of the worst you’ve heard, in fact. When Logan brought it up to you and a few other managers during a meeting, you didn’t hesitate to go bee-lining for Roman’s office, demanding him to tell you every single detail.

“So, you think this is, like, not good?” he asked, voice high-pitched and unstable. Just earlier today, he’d been telling his dad and Shiv what a great idea this was.

“No, Roman. It’s not fucking good. I’m sorry, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want the most trustworthy news source in America right now to be adopted into a fuckin’... fascist, right-wing, conservative dick jerking fest!” You drummed your fingers against his table. “Ro, this can’t happen. It could very well tank Waystar, and news media outlets in general. Reliability goes down, money goes down, our rivals go up. The political climate couldn’t handle such a change like this—”

Pulling at his face, Roman shook his head. “Fuckin’ political climate. Everything’s about the political climate these days. Fuck!”

“Roman, I’m being serious,” you said, brows furrowing. 

He sucked in a deep breath. “Fuck. Ugh—fuck! You are… you’re so…” He made an unintelligible noise while shaking his fists at you, nose wrinkling. “You’re right. God. I hate saying that. Feels like I just took a bite out of a rock. But even if you are, I can’t just stab dad in the back like that.”

Shoulders loosening, you nodded in understanding. “What’re you gonna do?”

“Tabitha is friends with Naomi Pierce. I’ll ask her to get me in touch,” Roman said, lips pursed to the side. It didn’t go past your notice that his stance on the Pierce situation was still left ambiguous. 

Your eyebrows raised a fraction. “Tabitha? You guys still going steady?”

“Uh-huh. Yup. Never better,” he replied, a tad too quickly.

“Really?” you asked. To none of his surprise, you read him like an open book. “You must really like her.”

“Mhm.”

“But not like-like her?”

Roman clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth in distaste. “What are you, nine?”

“You didn’t say yes,” you said in a sing-song voice. Then, you sobered up to seriously tell him, “Oh, Ro, she’s a great catch, sure, but if you don’t have romantic feelings for her, then don’t string her along like that.”

Rolling his eyes to the side, Roman tried his best to sidestep the topic. “It’s none of your beeswax, you prick. Anyways—you’re coming to Hungary, right? Corporate retreat and all that jazz.”

You didn’t feel like the conversation about Tabitha was quite over, but you let it slide for now. “Yes, Roman. Not really looking forward to it, now that I have to deal with an entire acquisition worth billions hovering over me.”

“Just relax for now—it’s not concrete, even if dad says it is.” Roman stood up from his desk to go pour himself a drink. “I’ll save you a spot on the plane. Next to me, if I’m feeling nice. Next to Greg if I want to be entertained by watching you kill yourself in front of him.”

“Thanks, Romeo,” you dryly said.

“You’re welcome. Okay, you can go away now. I wanna jerk off in front of the window without you watching this time. If you stay, I’ll fuck you against it, and that’d be my one-way ticket to a stern finger-wagging by HR.”

With a snort, you got up from your chair, heading for the door. You couldn’t help the way your cheeks burst aflame at his words, even though you knew it was just light-hearted banter. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, you fuckin’ slut.”

“Bitch,” he shot back, just as you stepped foot out of his office. 

“Whore!” you yelled over your shoulder, loud enough to have a few employees turn their head curiously. 

Roman watched you go through the glass windows, shaking his head with fond amusement.

The estate in Hungary was surrounded by forests and clean air—a stark contrast to New York. You were walking alongside Roman down to the hunting grounds, hands shoved into the pockets of your jacket. The rifle slung across his shoulder kept bumping into you, and you would push him away with a mild grin each time it did. He wasn’t very good at walking straight, eventually colliding into you mere minutes later.

The amicable atmosphere was effectively killed when Kendall approached the two of you, solemn-faced as ever. 

“Hey, guys,” he greeted in a monotone voice. “Listen, I have a question.”

Both of you stared at him, waiting for him to go on.

After an awfully lengthy pause he continued, “So, uh, did you guys get a call from that biographer?”

Right. You’d been in the middle of discussing with Tom how he’d landed a top position at ATN when your phone began to ring. You politely excused yourself to take the call, surprised to hear a woman claiming to write an unauthorized biography on your godfather—and she wanted you as a source. Though you had many opinions on a man, you knew that voicing them would be nothing but trouble for you.

Roman rolled his eyes. “I mean, yeah, obviously. I’m the interesting one, after all.”

When you laughed, Roman grinned along with you. 

“I got a call, too,” you admitted. “Did you?”

Tilting his head into a nod, Kendall mumbled, “Yeah. I did.”

“Well? Are you thinking of talking to her?” asked Roman.

“I don’t know,” Kendall said. “Maybe. You guys?”

“No… but if you’re going to talk to her, then I guess I have to talk to her, too. Just to correct your bullshit,” Roman responded.

Two seconds of silence before you huffed out a sigh. “It's a messy business that I don’t want to involve myself in. If Logan finds out, which I’m sure he will, I’m not going to let myself be killed because of it.”

The two started talking about Pierce. Both of them sounded so awfully fake about the entire ordeal that you wanted to bash their heads together and force them not to speak through a brown nosing filter. Their conversation came to a halt when Roman’s phone began to ring, and he stepped away to answer privately, much to Kendall’s chagrin.

“Hey, Kendall,” you broached, rocking your weight back and forth on your heels. “If you talk to that writer, Logan won’t be as forgiving to you this time. He’ll slit your throat in front of everyone to see.”

The man who you onced looked up to as an older brother stared at you with a dead expression. “I know,” was all he said. 

Once Roman came ambling back, Kendall began to interrogate him about the call. Defensive, Roman lied—you knew he was. He had an obvious tell: the way his nose would twitch and his left eye went all squinty. The older brother told him he was full of shit.

Before they could break out in another argument, a Hungarian hunter came up to the three of you, claiming that the truck was ready to take them out into the wilderness. 

“Let’s go murder a terrified mammal,” quipped Roman, taking your hand and leading you away from Kendall.

The hunting party returned to the estate with four boars. You took no part in the killings, having stayed in the truck to speak to Gerri on the phone. Apparently, she had very strong doubts about adopting PGM, and wanted to know if you felt the same. You were Logan’s family, she had said, and he listened to family more than his own general counsel. 

You told her you would if you could, but Logan was adamant on taking on PGM. No amount of needless peddling would sway his mind. 

Hours later, when the sky was dark and the table was laid out with all sorts of fruits and glasses of spiced wines, everybody was seated for dinner. You sat between Roman and Gerri, speaking to both of them in hushed whispers about nothing quite important.

The amicable atmosphere was shattered when Logan stood up to address everybody. 

“Someone has spoken to Michelle Pantsil.” The biographer. 

Both you and Roman glanced at each other, knowing that it was neither of you. Was it possibly Kendall? Had he been lying to the both of you again? Or had it been someone else? Tom? Greg? Gerri? Frank?

“We’ve got rats on this ship,” continued your godfather, rounding behind people’s chairs in a menacing, domineering manner. “And Pierce—who’s got my back, hm? Who’s really behind me? Anyone wanna own up? Hm? Anyone want to rat out a rat?”

Ah. So it seemed Pierce knew of Logan’s moves now. You didn’t dare chance a glance at Roman, knowing it was him who had told Naomi.

Logan began to sharply question a few people at the table, demanding to know if they had anything they wanted to say to him. It shocked you even further when he barked out an order for everyone to put their phones on the table—both company and private.

“Is that really necessary?” asked Gerri. “I’m not even sure if that’s legal to demand people to—”

“Yeah, well, we’re getting down to brass fucking tacks,” spat Logan, eyeing everybody darkly. You did as he said, placing both of your devices onto the table—you had nothing to hide. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Roman slipping his phone beneath his leg.

When he caught your gaze, his head dipped forward a bit and his eyebrows pulled together. Shut up, his eyes seemed to tell you. Even without verbalizing it, he still somehow managed to be rude to you.

You narrowed them back at him, wordlessly telling him not to worry.

“Karl, do you like the Pierce deal?” Logan queried.

“I do. Yes, I do. Yes, yeah.”

With a dry chuckle, Logan shook his head. “Bullshit. Boar on the floor.”

The two men began their back and forth—Logan commanding Karl to stand in the corner whilst the former sputtered out indignant protests. It was embarrassing and humiliating, and he was going to do it all anyway.

“Tom.”

“Me? Uh, Pierce?”

“Yes,” said an exasperated Logan.

Clearing his throat, Tom hesitantly said, “Well, there’s a lot of factors, but uhm, yes. Personally, I like it. I do.”

“Boar on the fucking floor, over there,” gruffed your godfather, pointing over to where Karl stood. 

With no protest, Tom pushed away from the table and slunk off. 

“Gerri! Stand up! Tell me about Pierce.” 

Her gaze stayed on her untouched plate as she got onto her feet. “Well, to be perfectly honest with you… I’ve, uhm, I’ve had a few doubts.”

“Honesty,” Logan finally said. “You see, everybody? Do you see? Honesty. Greg, stand up! Did you get any orders from my brother? The fucking Conscience of the Prairies?”

Everybody watched as Greg stammered out a near incoherent response. He was sent off to stand next to Tom and Karl, as well. This seemed to be Roman’s breaking point, because he burst into a fit of giggles.

“Roman!” barked his father. 

This brought him back to sobriety. “I like it, Dad, for real—”

“Stand the fuck up!”

With a bitter murmur beneath his breath, Roman got up to his feet. With discreet motions, you silently swiped the phone from his chair and placed it beneath your leg so it wouldn’t be seen by his father. 

Desperate to divert the attention away from him, Roman said, “Kendall took a call from the biographer.”

Logan rested his hands upon Kendall’s shoulders, which made Roman bristle even harder. His older brother droned out, “We all got a call, Rome. Y/N, too.”

“Okay, yes, but you—you seemed like you actually wanted to talk to her.”

“To smoke you out for Dad.”

Roman’s nose wrinkled. “What? Fuck you! Why’d you get to smoke me out? I was smokin’ you out!”

As you watched Logan’s fingers curl into Kendall’s shirt, you couldn’t help but think of him as a meat puppet of sorts. So damaged and broken and directionless, ready to heed every single one of his father’s words. 

“Why don’t you tell us about your mystery call?” 

“Oh, the phone call?” Roman propped a hand on his hip, risking a glance at you. Then, he violently began to scratch at the back of his head. “Yeah, sure, it was Frank. He meant to call you, he wants to know if the plan to overthrow Dad is still happening. ”

Finally pulling away from Kendall, Logan’s voice rang out across the room like a slap to the face. “Someone spiked Pierce. Which one of you boars did it?”

He yelled for the three men in the corner to get down on their knees, claiming it was a game. Your godfather, now more of a monster than a man, called for everyone to get up and cheer, “Boar on the floor!” as Tom, Greg, and Karl scrambled about to eat a sausage that was tossed to them in order to prove their loyalty. He demanded they oink and squeal like real piggies would.

It was cruel and animalistic. And Roman was filming with his personal phone, a sadistic smile on his face. 

You would’ve berated him for it, if not for Kendall cornering you against the wall when everybody else was distracted by the Boar on the Floor spectacle. 

“I know you took Roman’s phone. I saw you,” he said, eyes flickering down to your pockets, where you had hidden away the mobile.

“Fuck off, Kendall,” you responded with a daggered edge. “You touch me, and I’ll bite your fucking head off.”

“I thought you were smarter than this,” he told you. “Defending my brother—do you know how many times he’s fucked you over? How many times he’ll keep fucking you over?”

Curling your upper lip in contempt, you spat out, “Get the fuck away from me, Kendall. What’s wrong with you?”

Suddenly, his hand shot out to grab Roman’s company phone from your pocket, prompting you to shove at him, trying to grab the phone back. The commotion caught the attention of everyone else, Roman included. 

He was quick to step forward, pulling you away from his brother so he could try to yank the device away himself. 

“What the fuck? Give me my fucking phone back, asshole!”

“What are you hiding? What’s the code?”

“Are you fucking serious? My code is, uhm, fuck you—”

The two of them began to tussle, arguing indistinctly as they pulled at each other’s hair and limbs. You stepped back, burying your face in your hands in utter exhaustion. 

When Kendall locked Roman in a chokehold, Roman finally keyed in his PIN, shoving his older brother away with a labored breath. 

“Okay, you got it! You fuckin’ happy? There’s nothing in there. Now give it back—give me my fucking phone!” When he began advancing on his brother again, Colin stepped in to keep him at bay. “What, are you going to touch me, too? Grab my fucking balls—I will drop you, you cocksucker!”

Finally, Kendall opened up Roman’s call history, not at all to see Naomi Pierce at the very top. He didn’t hesitate to tell his father.

“Dad, it was Roman. Roman talked to Pierce.”

Panic weaving through his tone, Roman shook his head. “Dad—I didn’t… I didn’t betray you.”

“Then what’s this call from today?” asked Kendall, holding up the phone. “Why are you talking to her?”

For a moment, Roman’s eyes flickered over to you. “Come on, man. I wasn’t trying to fuck the deal. I was trying to land the deal. I was trying to help—I thought it would be a… a nice surprise.”

His words struck you across the face like a slap. Roman had told you that you were right—that acquiring PGM was a terrible idea. You’d thought he was on your side. And now—it seemed like he was doing it all for his father’s favor. The best of both worlds, blew right up in his face.

“Roman,” began Logan, “you’re a moron.”

Crackling silence.

Kendall cleared his throat. “Boar on the floor?”

Having enough of him, you snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Kendall.”

“Y/N was helping him,” said Kendall. “Tried hiding his phone from the table.”

Logan swung his heated, intense gaze onto you. It took all you had within you not to flinch away. 

“I didn’t know what Roman was doing. I just didn’t want to get him in trouble.”

Your godfather shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “How sweet,” he spat. “The two of you are perfect for each other. Fucking morons!”

“Dad,” said Roman, voice warbling. “I am not a moron. She isn’t, either. Y/N, tell him—tell him why you thought PGM was a bad idea.”

Everybody’s eyes were on you. Suddenly, your throat went dry, and all words flew out of your vocabulary. You shook your head, a defeated sigh falling from your lips. Roman’s shoulders drooped with the weight of shame and loss.

“How much is a gallon of milk?” Logan suddenly asked his youngest son, advancing on him until he withered beneath his father’s glare. 

“What?”

“How much is a gallon of fucking milk?”

Confused beyond his mind, Roman said, “I don’t know. I mean, who the fuck knows, Dad? Literally nobody knows! Who gives a shit?”

“Greg! How much is a gallon of milk?”

The lanky man stammered out, “Uh, I mean, like, regular milk, or—?”

Burying his face into his hands, not unlike you had done earlier, Logan sighed out, “I am surrounded by snakes and fucking morons! You’re a bunch of silk-stocking fucks! Who backs me on Pierce, huh? Who?”

When he was met by silence, Kendall answered in everyone’s stead.

“None of them do, Dad. They’re all against it. Karl’s lying, Tom’s lying, Gerri’s playing both sides, Y/N is very clearly against what you’re doing.”

Hot shame curled within your gut. Though you were steadfast in your beliefs against taking PGM, disappointing your father figure was never a pleasant sensation, no matter how terrible he was.

“Uncle Logan, I’m sorry—” you began, but he was quick to shut you down.

“Don’t go sucking my dick now, girl. It’s too fucking late. You’re lucky your brainless parents are major shareholders, or I would’ve fired you a dozen times by now. Do you know that? How fucking worthless you are?”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, training your gaze onto the ground. 

“Here’s the news,” Logan said, addressing the entire group now. “We are going after it. And what’s more… I will win.”

With that, he stormed off, disappearing somewhere in the vast house. 

“Hey,” Roman tried to speak to you, but you maneuvered away, disappearing up some stairs, where your room was waiting for you.

It took a lot of indecisive thought, but you left the door unlocked.

To none of your surprise, Roman came crawling into your room when everybody was asleep. He slipped into the empty spot beside you, slurring out a litany of nonsensical apologies mixed in with how much of an asshole Kendall was.

“You’re drunk,” you whispered, pushing his face away. You hadn’t the heart to be angry at him. Not this late at night. Not when he was just as upset as you were about what had transpired during dinner. “Go to sleep, Rome.”

“Give me a kiss g’night. And tell me you forgive me.”

“Ro—”

“Just—just fucking do it! Don’t ask me stupid questions.”

Shifting in the bed, you leaned forward to press light kisses to both his fluttering eyelids. “We’re good, Romeo. I don’t know. I’m mad at you, but not as much as I’m mad at Kendall and your dad. I’m your only friend, remember? I love you, asshole.”

“Yeah. Shut up.” His hands curled over your waist and pulled you close. “Say that again.”

There was a laugh in your voice. “What? That I’m your only friend?”

He prodded your side with a stiff finger. “The fuckin’... the love thing.”

A part of you contemplated telling him to fuck off. But the wide, warbling brown of his irises told you that he was desperate to hear it. Desperate for any crumb of affection he was offered. “Mhm. I love you, Ro. I do. Now go to sleep.”

He lazily blinked at you, as if he was a cat. “Don’t be mad if I puke all over you.”

“I won’t be mad.”

“I’d be mad if you puked all over me. Why wouldn’t you be mad at me?”

“Go to sleep, Rome.”

“Night. You smell good, you know? Like if a unicorn had sex with a bouquet of flowers.” Without warning, he sank his teeth into your neck, and you had to physically pry his teeth from your skin to keep him from using you like a chew toy.

Muffling a yawn, you murmured, “Go to sleep before I euthanize you.”

It took him another hour to finally drift off, but when he did, the two of you slept better than you had in months.

Roman was terribly hungover the next morning. Headaches and droopy lids, barely registering your voice telling him to get up. When he finally rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he noticed that you were already dressed for the day, having gotten ready while he was passed out. 

“Everyone’s waiting for you, Ro,” you gently told him, brushing his hair out of his face and then taking his hands to tug him off the bed. “Go wash up. Come on, stinker.”

He let you push him around, handing him the toothbrush and a cup of water to drink once he was done washing up. You turned to give him some privacy to change, but his fingers just couldn’t seem to button his buttons right.

“These fuckin’ things—like they’re made of soap or something—”

With a light sigh, you rotated back around. “Come here, you big baby.” You straightened out his collar before slipping the buttons through their respective holes with ease. 

“Dad’s killing me. He’s cutting my fucking balls off.”

You watched him with a sympathetic gaze. “He won’t do that. He doesn’t see you as a threat.”

“That’s not the compliment you think it is.”

“I wasn’t trying to compliment you.”

Roman watched as you fastened together the last button for him, but you didn’t step away, staying close by him.

“If I was capable of any sudden movement, I would totally pounce on you right now. I like your shirt—is that a new shirt?”

“I’ve had it for four years,” you deadpanned.

“Hm. Old shirt. You should throw it out.” To his relief, you smiled at him.

Patting his cheek once, you asked, “Are you okay? How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know. I’m fucking terrible. But I should be asking you the same. Dad took a beating on the both of us.”

Memories of last night made your nose wrinkle in distaste. 

“I think everyone was just… caught up in the heat of the moment. I don’t think your dad meant everything he said.” He did, you knew he did.

Shaking his head, Roman slunk away to go put on his shoes. “He thinks I’m a moron. The worst of his seed, or whatever the fuck. How am I supposed to get him to take me seriously? Grow a mustache and read the Journal? I’ll fucking do it.”

“Don’t grow a mustache. You’ll look like you came straight out of a shitty European porno.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Ignoring him, you sat down beside the disorderly man, pulling on your own dress shoes and knotting together the laces, before helping him tie his, because his fingers suddenly decided not to work this morning. “Gerri told me I should convince you to go to management training. Because, you know—tada. Your only friend is one of the company’s head managers. Lucky you.”

“What, she and Dad want you to be my teacher? Sounds like a sexual fantasy to me.”

“It probably won’t be me. Might be a lower-level manager. But I’d come to visit! Get you in the spirit of things.”

Roman snorted. “Ugh. I don’t want to go back to classes. I’ll kill myself.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Let’s at least have some breakfast first.”

A week later, Roman was enrolled into the management training program, much to Gerri’s relief. She’d thanked you for convincing him, and you told her that it barely took any effort at all. Really, he just wanted to become better in his Dad’s eyes.

You were swamped with work as usual, occasionally checking your phone to see a long strings of texts from Roman, complaining and whining about the torture they were putting him through (they made him watch a video about ethical conduct in a workplace). 

When Roman called you the first time, you declined because you were in a meeting. You declined the second time as well, because you really had to concentrate on filling out important documents. By the time your phone rang again, you were in between tasks, and picked up with a grouchy, “What, Roman?”

“Yowza, who put that stick up your ass?” his voice came through. His high pitched laughter followed. “It’s fucking hell here. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Sorry,” you replied, pinching your brows. “It’s been terrible up here, too. I’ve got a lot of shit on my plate. This acquisition really isn’t helping.”

“Are you coming?” he asked.

Blinking, you shifted the phone in your palm. “Coming where? To your training?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Mmh, I’m sorry, Ro. I really would, but I’m just up to my head with work. But I’m proud of you! Really, I am.”

“Oh, you are? Fuck you,” he snapped.

You took no offense to his bitterness. “Fuck you back. This is good, what you’re doing, Romeo.”

“Yeah, I know—I’m gonna grow up to be a real little boy and learn the price of an egg, and do… phone sex with my girlfriend like a normo.”

Laughing, you knocked your head back with a grin. “Y’know, phone sex is more kinky than anything. If you wanna be normal, you look her in the eyes during missionary sex and tell her you love her.”

“Pfft. Yeah, right. Do people actually do that? That sounds disgusting.”

“Yes, people actually do that. Have you ever considered that you’re the disgusting one?”

“Don’t be mean, this is my first day of training, you bitch.”

From his tone, you could tell he was smiling, too.

“Seems like you’ve been complaining to me more than actually paying attention.”

“I can’t help it. The videos are too fucking long. It’s like trying to teach Beethoven how to play hot cross buns on the piano.”

You laughed, and Roman felt a certain warmth pool in his chest.

“You can do it, Ro. I believe in you.”

“Thanks, mommy,” he teasingly replied. 

Your phone began to buzz with another call. “Ah—sorry, Rome, I gotta go. See you later, okay?”

Before he could say his grumpy goodbyes, you’d already hung up. To your surprise, your screen displayed the called ID of your godfather. Your palms suddenly grew clammy.

When you answered, his voice was soft and amicable—a stark contrast to what it was like in Hungary.

“Hello, dear. Hope you’re well.”

The rest of the call went surprisingly fine. Logan wanted you to go over to his office to run through some analytics and, apparently, he wanted to apologize to you in person. Mend the broken bridges, he had said. You weren’t entirely sure if there was another game he was playing at, but you couldn’t say no to him. He was your top boss, after all.

Just as you slipped through the glass doors with a hesitant smile, a loud bang sounded from somewhere on the floor. You flinched, eyes widening. 

A gunshot.

Terror wrapped its dark hands around you when security guards quickly took you by the arm, guiding you around bends and corners, before finally leading you into a panic room. Logan came in behind you, looking mildly distraught.

“Are you okay?” you asked, helping him sit down and giving him a loose hug. 

“Fine, fine. Where’s Siobhan? Kendall?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

When you felt down your pants for your phone, you let out a frustrated sigh when you couldn’t find it anywhere on you. You must’ve dropped it during all the commotion to get to the safe room. You settled into a seat across from Logan, watching the news on the television, your leg bouncing up and down with agitation. 

A few minutes later, Shiv showed up, embracing her dad with a chaste kiss. She gave you a hug as well, cheek pressing against yours. 

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“No, I don’t. Where’s Tom?”

She pulled away to call her husband, and you slumped back into your chair. 

Down on ground level, Roman was still in his training class, watching his partner begin to present his idea for a new ride, when a man burst through the doors, calling out Mr. Roy!

Well, there goes his chance to pretend to be a normo.

“Just in case you get a news alert on your phone, there’s been an incident at ATN.”

Roman’s brows quirked downwards. “Is my dad okay?”

“It’s been suggested that it could be a concerted attack against the family. Do you want us to take you to a more secure location?”

“Yeah, of course I want that—get me the fuck out of here!” The guard began ushering him out of the class, down the hall to a more ‘secure’ space, which was clearly just an inventory room. “So, uh, does an attack against the family include, like, godchildren, too? Or just, uh, direct blood-related shit?”

“I don’t know yet, sir. All we know so far is that there was a gunshot in the building.”

Panic began to settle in Roman’s chest. He fished out his phone from his pants and called you. No answer.

He texted you, over and over again.

Hey Fuckface You heard about this shooting bullshit? I thought they only went for schools nowadays. Answer me Bitch Right fucking now Can you pick up? Hello  Helloooooooooo 🖕 Hahaha funny joke! Now fucking pick up

It didn’t quite occur to Roman that he should probably call his siblings just yet. He was far too caught up with the idea of you lying on the ground somewhere, bleeding out to death. Certainly not a pleasant thought.

He called you again, and nearly threw his phone across the inventory—safe room when you didn’t pick up.

What the fuck Please answer me it’s not funny anymore If you’re dead I’ll kill you I’m being serious Hello? Please answer You can’t be dead it’s literally not possible

He called a third time, and there was no response. Growing increasingly worried, Roman finally called his twin sister, who responded after the second ring.

“Hey, Rome. You okay?”

“Yeah, whatever. Is Y/N okay?” he hurriedly asked, itching at the back of his neck.

“She’s fine. Here with me in the safe room. I’m fine too, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

“Fuck off, just put me on the phone with her!” 

A second later, your voice came through, and Roman nearly melted onto the floor in relief.

“Hello? Rome? Are you okay?”

“You fucking bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you were fucking dead! Why didn’t you answer any of my texts?”

If not for the situation at hand, you would’ve laughed at how worked up he sounded. “I lost my phone when the gunshot sounded out. Sorry, Ro. It happened so quickly. They’re saying it was a suicide. But I’m not really sure—Gerri’s filling me in.”

“So you’re, like, okay? Actually okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“Ugh, fuck you. Go to hell!” he barked into the phone, right before hanging up. 

You stood, still stunned, handing Shiv’s phone back to her with a quiet word of thanks. 

Curled up in the corner of the inventory room, Roman found out that he and Brian had won for best pitch for a ride in the class. He smiled a little, then followed out after his partner to make sure that he wasn’t fibbing.

“I slaughtered them, you know? Everyone in that fucking training class grovels at my feet now,” Roman told Tabitha on the phone. “They’re jealous! And that’s all there is to it. Anyways, um, how are you?”

“Good!” she told him. “I’m about to get in the bath.”

“Oh, yeah?” Roman took a long pause. “Uh, y’know, Y/N told me that phone sex is kinda… kinky. You wanna…?”

On the other side of the line, Tabitha smiled, putting her phone on speaker. “Mmh, alright. I’m making the bath real sudsy.”

“Is that because you’re dirty?”

“I am. I’m a dirty, dirty girl.”

“Yeah, you are. And I would love to fuck you.”

She laughed, light and airy. “I’m so wet for you right now.”

A long pause. Roman winced. “Uh, that’s not… well, you don’t have to be so specific.”

“I’m… being sexy?”

“Yeah, it’s just—could you not do that thing? With your voice? It’s, like, breathy and unnatural.”

Sucking in a frustrated lungful of air, Tabitha shook her head. “That’s what I sound like when I’m turned on, Roman.”

“I know, I just… I don’t like it, so—” He made his way to the bed and laid down. “Let’s just be normal. Let’s be normal. Casual.”

“Normal? Okay, I was just trying to get into it but…”

“No, I’m sorry, yeah, you’re right.” He cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice. “Um, I’m fucking you in the pussy. I’m fucking you hard.”

Tabitha pursed her lips. “Amazing. What are you gonna do next, change your water filter cartridge?”

Rolling his eyes, Roman sighed out, exasperated, “Jesus fucking Christ—oh, look at that, I’m coming! I’m coming! Ah, wow, I came! Thank you! Hooray! Bye.”

Abruptly, he hung up, not unsimilar to what he did to you earlier to you in the day. Guilt suddenly flushed through him—he probably should give you a call. Say he’s sorry.

It only took one ring for you to pick up, and he could tell that you were smiling on the other end. “Hey, Romeo. Didn’t think you had the emotional capacity to talk to me after thinking I was dead.”

Roman rubbed his left eye. “Fuck you. So are you, uh, okay?”

“You already asked me that, Rome.”

“No, like—mentally or whatever. Must’ve been scary. Ooh.” He made a ghost-esque noise, but cringed upon realizing that that probably wasn’t appropriate.

Nonetheless, you scoffed through the phone. “It was jarring, but I’ll be okay. How’d training go?”

“I mean, it’s fuckin’ bullshit but I won the stupid ride pitch thing. They should have it built.”

There was some rustling of sheets. Roman wondered if you were clambering into bed. He wondered what you were wearing. 

“You really think they’ll build you the ride after your first day in management training? Don’t be stupid.”

“I’ve got money. They’ll build whatever I want them to fuckin’ build.”

“You know who you sound like? Like Joffrey Baratheon, from that show I made you watch. The one you never paid attention to unless there was a pair of tits on screen. Spoiled little shits, the both of you.” 

With an affronted gasp, he said, “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m technically your boss.”

You giggled. “Don’t pull the boss card on me, Roman. You’ve slept in my bed more times than in your own. That’s fucking… that’s like power play, right there.”

“Yeah?” Roman could feel a rush of blood go straight to his dick, which began to strain against his pants. “D’you think we’d get in trouble if we ever…”

There was a long moment of silence. Static filled in Roman’s ears.

“If we what, Roman?” you asked, voice quiet. 

Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Roman blurted out, “I tried the fuckin’ normie phone sex with Tabitha.”

“And?”

“She got turned on.”

“Uh, congratulations?”

“I didn’t like it.”

“Oh. Why not? You like your sex dirtier? Wrong?” You began to chuckle, but it tapered away when Roman went silent on the other end of the phone. More rustling blankets. “Oh, fuck, Roman. You’re an idiot, you know that?”

You could hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. 

“What else am I?” His voice was breathy. Whiny, almost.

“This is wrong, Romeo. I can’t… you’re dating Tabitha, remember?”

“Just keep—keep talking.” When his hand wrapped around his hard dick, weeping with pearly precum, Roman wondered if he’d bust his nut right then and there.

After a few seconds of silence, you tentatively continued, “You’re disgusting, Rome. What’s wrong with you? Touching yourself to my voice when your girlfriend was left high and dry for you.”

He began to stroke himself, eyes fluttering shut. A strained moan fell from his lips. Neither of you had ever ventured this into this territory in your relationship before. Sure, sexual jokes were always passed back and forth between the two of you but this was—this was real. Wasn’t it?

“Mmh, I don’t want you to cum yet, Ro.” You clutched the phone close to your ear. 

A choked noise emitted from his throat. “I can’t—I can’t hold it—”

“Hold it.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to cum with you.” More rustling on the other end as you kicked your pants and underwear down, dragging your finger around your clit. 

This seemed to send Roman into another fit of whines—the thought of you fucking yourself on your own fingers to him made his mind go all hazy. 

“Romey, tell me,” you whispered. “Out of all those times we slept in the same bed together—did you ever imagine fucking me while I was asleep? Like a sick little pervert?”

A groan climbed up the back of Roman’s throat. His pace slowed down, trying his best not to cum prematurely. “Yes, all the fucking time. Yes—” His words died on his tongue as he moaned again, and again, and again—

“God, Ro.” You stifled a gasp when you plunged two fingers into your throbbing cunt. It’d been a long while since you’d had the time to touch yourself—it was no surprise that you were already on the brink of an orgasm. “Have you touched yourself to me before? I’m sure you have. You sick fuck.”

The vein in Roman’s forehead popped as he bucked his hips into his fist. “Fuck, yes! Yes, please, Y/N, please—”

“Please, what?” You moaned yourself, grinding into your palm. “You wanna cum, baby? I wanna hear you make a mess of yourself. Like the dirty fucking pervert you are.”

With those words, Roman toppled off the edge, spurts of warm cum dribbling from his throbbing cock, soaking his fist with its sticky mess. He fucked himself through his high, whining with overstimulation at the sound of your own choked sighs.

Breathily, he whimpered, “What else? Please, what else? What would you do if you were here with me?”

“Mmh, if I was there, I’d make you lick your cum off of me. I’d ride your face until you pass out—oh!”

A creak of the bed as you arched your back, crying out his name, cresting over the peak yourself. 

More silence. Labored breaths.

You swallowed heavily, skin glowing with a faint sheen of sweat. The haze of your orgasm was beginning to dissipate, and you were coming back to your own senses. “Fuck—I’m sorry, Ro. I don’t... I don’t think we should’ve done that.”

He blew out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, we shouldn’t have.” His chest rose and fell unevenly. “But it was fucking amazing.”

“It was.” You ran your tongue along your teeth in thought. “I’m gonna go, uhm, clean myself up, Ro. G’night.”

“Mmh. Night.”

“This doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still best friends?”

Roman screwed his lips up to the side. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Totally. BFFs for liferz, or whatever cheesy fucking bullshit you need to hear.”

You scoffed. Things would be okay with the two of you. They always worked out in the end. “See you soon, slut.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Romeo.”

“Mmkay, bye, fuck-face.” 

With that, the call ended.

Weeks later, the Roy family was to spend the weekend with the Pierces at their family estate. You figured the reason why Logan had called you to his office right before the suicide was because he wanted you to come along and play mediator—the Pierces were a rather articulate and fanciful family. According to your godfather, they aligned much more with your and Shiv’s politics than his. It reminded you how you were nothing but a pawn on the chessboard for him to maneuver. 

Regardless, you knew you couldn’t say no. Even though he knew you didn’t support the Pierce acquisition, you were a valuable asset and that could potentially be beneficial for both parties. Besides, the Pierces were a powerful family. Having them as allies would be good for you.

You were lounging on the couch beside Shiv and Tabitha when Roman strode into his father’s house, bowing down dramatically.

“How was summer camp?” she teased her twin. 

“Hm? What’s that? Didn’t catch what you said. I’ve been down in the salt mines for so long with my fellow Johnny Lunchpails, I no longer speak One-Percent,” he said when he bent down to kiss Tab’s cheek.

Snorting, Shiv retorted, “You were slinging candy apples, Rome, not digging the Panama Canal.”

“I’ve seen the world for how it really is, Siobhan, and it has changed me! I’m a kettle corn shoveler, here to show you frilly clit-flickers the truth. Hullo, Y/N. You look lovely.” He patted your cheek thrice, and you swatted his hand away before the fourth. A part of you had been worrying for the past few days about your relationship with Roman. Would things change after what had happened over the phone? Or was it all just… no big deal?

To your relief, the two of you seemed to be just the same as before. 

“Hey, Rome. Nice to see you’ve been so… humbled. Tell me, if I were to ask you to do my laundry, would you know how?”

Tabitha cracked up at your words and she nudged at your knee humorously. 

Roman rolled his eyes, muttering something about how he wouldn’t want to touch your tighty whities anyway, and scuttled off to greet Marcia and Connor. Only then did Logan come in, Kendall in tow. His little meat puppet.

“Alright. Cars are waiting—but first, some announcements. Frank, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Logan’s right-hand man stepped forward to address the group. “As you all know, the good news is that the Pierces are entertaining our offer, but bad news—they’re inquiring about your moral character, hence this weekend.”

“They want to look us in the teeth,” gruffed Logan.

Frank nodded. “Right. They want our 24 billion, but they also want to be able to ensure the integrity of their news outlets into the future.”

“Mmh, to ensure everything goes smoothly, we’ve prepared a few do’s and don’ts for the weekend,” said Gerri, pointedly staring at Roman. “Topics to stay clear of: Ravenhead, ATN, Israel, Brightstar, and the Cruise’s rumor mill. Steer onto: gossip, investments, art, movies, literature… tittle-tattle. Wider cultural interests.”

“Oh, and two drinks maximum,” Frank added. “They’re not big drinkers.”

Tilting his head, Roman drawled, “That’s okay. Nobody here has any glaring substance abuse issues that almost brought down the company, right?” He lolled his head over to Kendall, shooting him a wink.

Logan went through a few more details about Tom and ATN and Rhea, which certainly raised a few apprehensions. 

“Thanks for all your help,” said Logan. For a moment, his eyes landed on you. You wondered if he had considered that you’d purposefully sabotage this weekend to stop the deal from going through. Or maybe he knew you were his loyal lapdog, no matter how far he kicked you. Or maybe he simply wanted you there for diversity points. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. “We need this. Bagging Pierce is the key to our proxy defense. And the defense is life itself. See you at Plymouth Rock.”

Once the helicopters landed onto Pierce's land and everyone was filed out into the vast green fields, Logan turned to his group and gestured for them to smile. He’d even gone out of his way to brush a stray piece of lint off of your coat for you whilst passing by. 

“I am smiling!” Roman haughtily protested when his father gave him a pointed glare.

“Yeah, not like a pervert,” said Shiv.

You grinned, laughing out, “That’s just how he looks, Shiv.”

“Hardee-har-har,” Roman spat out. Then, he watched as Logan linked arms with both Marcia and Shiv. “Wow, Jesus. Look at Papa Smurf. Should I be doing that with you guys?”

Both you and Tabitha glanced at each other, before walking onwards, flat out ignoring Roman. 

The Pierce family was waiting not too far from the helicopters, greeting everyone with apprehensive yet kind smiles. 

The woman who spoke had soft eyes and a round face. Not at all intimidating in stature, but you knew better than to judge a book by its cover. “Welcome to Ternhaven! Our city on the hill. I’m Nan Pierce—it’s nice to meet all of you. I think we’re going to have fun getting a look at all of you, won’t we?”

Both families drew nearer as everybody exchanged polite greetings. You shook hands with about half a dozen people, trying your best to keep up with names and faces. Once at the estate, someone had taken off your coat and offered you a glass of water before you’d even taken three steps inside. 

It was certainly a beautiful home. It felt more lived-in than Logan’s houses, with its abundance of paintings and framed pictures on the walls. The furniture was warmer and cozier—a stark contrast to Logan’s preference for sharp edges and monochrome colors.

Roman came up to your side and pointed at a Latin phrase inscribed into the archway. 

“In veritate triumpho,” he read aloud. “This wine is triumphant? No—your vagina trumpets!”

Passing by, Gerri sharply hushed him just as your shoulders began to shake with mirth.

“I triumph in the truth,” you told him. 

“Honesty is the best policy around here,” said a dark-haired man, appearing from seemingly nowhere. You heard Roman mutter Jesus H. Christ, beneath his breath, but you discreetly pinched his side before he could say anything else. You faintly recognized the man as Peter Pierce—a cousin of Nan. He’d been overly enthusiastic with his handshake, watching you with gleaming curiosity, complimenting you on your outfit. 

You weren’t blind. You knew attraction when you saw it—and Peter wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it.

“So… where’d you learn Latin?”

“Self taught,” you told him, smiling politely. “I’m not fluent. I just know a few bits and bobs here and there. Tried to learn during my college years.”

Before Peter could respond, Roman motioned gagging. “Barf. I’m gonna go see who Tabs is flirting with. See you nerds later.”

He slipped away, leaving you alone with Peter, much to your chagrin. 

The man was nice enough, sure, but he was being very obvious with the way his gaze lingered a tad too long on your chest. And when it wasn’t there, he was ogling your lips. It was a bit unnerving. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, you know,” said Peter, arms crossed. 

“And I know next to nothing about you,” you airily responded, trying your best to keep your smile natural, though it proved increasingly difficult with each passing second.

“Well, that can be remedied, no?” he asked. 

You internally cursed at his forwardness. “Sure, yeah. Sounds great.”

And off he chattered, prattling on about his time with his company and what he studied during university, occasionally asking for your experiences as well. You only paid him half a mind, keeping the other occupied with observations of everybody else in the room. How Shiv had somehow managed to insult someone already, how Connor was talking about his presidential campaign with someone who so clearly didn’t agree with his views, and how Roman was guffawing at something Naomi and Tabitha were discussing.

“And what about the tabloids on you?”

“I’m sorry?” you asked, snapping your attention back onto Peter. 

“The tabloids about you and Roman. A lot of them discuss the two of you as a pair.”

Shrugging one of your shoulders, you shook your head. “Those are just baseless rumors.” You thought back to how you and Roman jerked off to each other through the phone. Not baseless at all, it seemed. “Roman and I are friends.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

Peter smiled. A part of you felt bad for stringing him along in such a way. He seemed like a nice enough guy, if you didn’t count all the uncomfortable ogling. “I just feel like we have a connection, you know? Do you feel it, too?”

“Mmh. Yeah, I’m feeling it.” You chanced a glance to Roman, who was staring straight at you with an impish grin. He saw right through your little facade—he knew you were miserable, and he was enjoying the shit out of it.

“That’s so good to hear. I knew you were different the moment I set eyes on you.”

“Wow. You really do have a way with words. Edgar Allen Poe up in here,” you joked loosely, trying your best not to sound deadpan. 

“You like Edgar Allen Poe, too? God, you’re like—fricking perfect for me. Excuse my French.” To your horror, Peter reached out to clasp your shoulder, steering you to a more quiet part of the room. “Tell me more about yourself. Things I don’t already know from the tabloids. What was it like growing up around the Roys?”

They were more of your family than your actual parents. They were the bane of your existence. They were everything to you. 

Before you could vocalize any of your thoughts (or, some poor, watered-down rendition of them), Logan shepherded the Waystar side of the group into another room for a short, private talk. You let out a long sigh as soon as you were far away enough from Peter, feeling your muscles loosen up. God, that man really did make you stiff in all the worst ways. 

“I think it’s going pretty well,” Roman said once everyone began filing through the door. “I mean, nobody’s fucked Nan or killed her cat by accident, so I think we’re doing pretty good.”

It seemed Logan didn’t quite agree, because he stormed up to his daughter, angrily demanding, “What the fuck did you say to Mark? Making cracks about his PhD?”

“It was a joke! He laughed.”

Frowning, Logan continued on, “He’s a yes, Shiv. He’s solid. Why are you even bothering him?”

The group began to then argue about Maxim, who Connor was supposed to persuade into the yes territory of the acquisition—which he was clearly failing.

“Cut the horseshit, know your roles!” barked your godfather. “Shiv, I want you on Nan.”

“Okay, Dad, we don’t have to be so schematic,” she protested, but her words went largely ignored.

Logan rounded on Roman, standing beside you. “Romulus. When you laugh, please do it at the same volume as everyone else. We didn’t get you from a hyena farm.”

“Thanks, Pop,” said Roman. You frowned, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

“The good news is that Nan seems to be spending money in her head—but she could still be swayed by her family, so every cousin counts,” Gerri added.

“Everybody, stay in your lanes. Who’s on Peter?” asked Logan.

“I got it, Dad,” said Kendall.

Quirking a brow, Frank said, “Actually, Peter seems to be rather taken by Y/N. I think it’s a good idea for her to keep him entertained. He’s worried the rest of us are barbarians.”

You crossed your arms uncomfortably, but nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, uh, sure.”

“Pimp her out, why don’t you,” scoffed Roman. 

“Good. Everyone got their person? Let’s go, people. Stay focused, stay sharp!” barked Logan, and everyone began to pour out of the room at his dismissal. 

Roman clapped a hand on your forearm. “Hey, uh, if Prickly Pete there does anything—” He made an unintelligible noise while pulling a sour face. “You know the drill. Stop, drop, and roll.”

“That’s for a fire, Ro.”

“Yeah, but it’ll freak him out enough to leave you alone.”

You spared him a sarcastic smile, shaking your head. “Great advice. Thanks.”

“No, but seriously—just say you have to go to the bathroom or something. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“Okay, Sauron,” you chuckled, shoving him away. “Go. Go and use your wily charms to seduce Naomi into making a terrible decision.”

It was his turn to offer you a lopsided grin. “That’s what I’m best at. Influencing women into years of regret.” With a click of his tongue and a wink, he was off.

 When you turned around, Peter was already waiting for you with an expectant expression. Ugh.

This was going to be a long weekend.

The Pierces were a strange family. Who the fuck recited poetry as grace before dinner? Nonetheless, you clapped with a polite smile once Naomi was done with her little poem. Roman rolled his eyes none too discreetly and you kicked at his leg beneath the table. 

On your other side, Peter didn’t hesitate to dive into yet another lengthy conversation once everybody began eating. 

“I like to have three novels and a memoir going at once,” said the man with a flirtatious smile. “It’s like natural selection.”

You forced a laugh—one that sounded genuine to everyone but the Roys, who knew you well enough by now to know that you weren’t amused at all. 

“Hm. I think it’s rather redundant to pit literature against each other in such a competitive fashion. Art is art is art, no?” you responded, quirking a brow as you forked a portion of salad onto your plate. 

You’d hoped that your comment would deter Peter from talking more, but your challenge seemed to only invigorate him. 

“A bit of healthy competition in a given field never hurt anyone. Pushes people to create better things,” he said, leaning closer to you.

“Mm, well, respectfully, I disagree. I think art—literature, especially—can blossom organically, just for the sake of it. The idea that creativity flourishes under competition is, frankly, just capitalist propaganda,” you said. 

To your dismay, Peter tilted his head and quipped, “Isn’t that a bit ironic, coming from you? Goddaughter of one of the richest men in the world?”

Your eye twitched. Beneath the table, Roman nudged your foot. 

“It doesn’t matter who I am. My point still stands, no?”

“I suppose we can just agree to disagree. I still enjoy reading several pieces at once… maximum efficiency, right?”

Another fake laugh.

To your surprise, Roman swooped into the conversation, “Yeah, I hear you, brother!” he chirped, trying his best to sound like an intellectual normie—he wasn’t doing a very good job, so far.

Peter spared him a glance, which made him lean even closer to you. “Are you a big reader?”

“Me? Oh. Yeah, big time.” No, he wasn’t. Roman couldn’t even remember the last time he picked up a book and read past the first page. 

“Can you recommend anything Oprah isn’t pushing? Any new fiction?”

For a moment, Roman’s panicked eyes met your goading ones. He began to laugh, but cleared his throat when he realized that Peter was genuinely asking. 

“Oh, right, yeah, sure I can… I, uh, rather enjoyed The Electric Circus.” 

“The Electric Circus?” echoed Peter in a rather pretentious manner. “Who’s the author?”

“Oh, uh, shit! Who was it… it was uh, Timothy Lipton. Yup. That’s him.” Roman was a terrible liar. You were getting second-hand embarrassment just listening to him. 

Catching wind of her brother fumbling, Shiv asked, “Yeah? What’s it about, Rome?”

“Uh, it is… about a young man making his way through the world. Except in two different time periods, so it kinda switches back and forth between—uh, yup! And—and the circus part is like, you know, a metaphor.”

Shiv narrowed her eyes. “For what?”

“Ugh. For the anxiety of modern life, Siobhan.” Roman only ever called his sister that when he tried to provoke her, or when he was exasperated with her antics. “Ask Y/N. She read the book. Ask her.”

Incredulous, you swung your gaze from your food to him, brows pulling together.

“You’ve read The Electric Circus?” asked Peter. His phone was in his palms. “I’m not seeing it on Google… Are you sure that’s what it was called?”

You began to fumble with your words, internally cursing Roman for throwing you under the bus, as well. God, he was going to owe you a million favors from now on. 

“See, uhm, it was a private little thing, uh—it hasn’t been published yet, exactly. Roman and I were just, you know, we were given the pages because we, uh, we were thinking of funding the novel ourselves! So, yeah… I don’t know why Roman would go and recommend that to you when it isn’t even available to the public yet.” You spared Peter a sweet smile whilst simultaneously stomping on Roman’s toes beneath the table. He retaliated by pinching your thigh.

“Oh. I see. Maybe when it comes out we can talk about it over a cup of coffee, then.”

Roman snorted. You sent him a half-hearted glare.

“Sure. That’d be great,” you told him before the man-child on your other side could come up with a rude retort.

Thankfully, Peter was quick to move on to another topic. Something about how mediocre the movies have been getting as of late. What an asshole. 

The conversation was cut off not too soon later by the white nationalist elephant in the room, as Rhea had so eloquently put it—ATN. Logan had vehemently denied sharing their fascistic beliefs, though the Pierces were clearly still skeptical of your godfather. Hell, even you were. 

There was more tense silence when Logan was questioned on whether or not Tom would stay on as head of ATN. The matter was never resolved, as he excused himself with a lame excuse of his sick dog having arthritis, pulling Shiv out of the room with him. 

You and Roman exchanged confused looks. 

By the time they came back, Tabitha was telling one of the Pierces about her willingness to help out her friend. “I’m thinking, like, if they can’t have a baby in six months, I’m just going to offer them my womb. Why not, you know? I’m young, I’m hardy.”

“Wow, Tabs, that’s really nice of you,” you told her genuinely, sipping on some water.

“Good for you,” agreed Marnie Pierce. “I had a friend who did that, it was so great—”

And then there Peter went, butting his fat head into the conversation where it was clearly not needed. “Uh, but if it isn’t too rude of me to ask, what about you two?” He gestured to Roman and Tabitha.

The blonde woman chuckled. “Oh, you mean us planning to have a baby? No, we’re not planning for a baby, because that would require us having sex!”

“Woah!” exclaimed Roman. “Hey, now.”

Peter grimaced. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Yes, you did,” said Marnie, and Peter only shrugged sheepishly.

“No, no, no, it’s totally fine, it’s just not our thing,” Tabitha replied. “We’re kinda like eunuch besties. It works for us.”

Scratching the back of his head, Roman cleared his throat. “She’s joking. Obviously. She’s kidding. We’re actually quite relentless in that regard. Just… fuck city out here.” 

You almost choked on the water you’d been sipping, the memories of a certain call you had with Roman resurfacing to the forefront of your mind. 

“You okay, Y/N?” Peter asked, lightly patting your back. 

“Fine. Just down the wrong pipe,” you winced. “And, you know, the idea of Roman and Tabs going to pound town doesn’t exactly whet my appetite.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” said Roman. “It’s unbecoming.”

Before you could snip back, the table fell quiet when Nan Pierce asked who would be taking on the company after Logan. Your godfather purposefully skirted around the topic, evading a solid name entirely.

Then, Shiv made the terrible mistake of announcing herself as the next CEO.

“Wait, uh, what’s happening?” Peter queried.

“Mmh. I think my life just ended,” Roman responded, looking every bit as shocked as you.

More flubbering from both Logan and Shiv. They were fucking themselves over, you could just feel it.

“You know what, maybe this dinner was a little bit premature. Seems like you guys are still working some things out,” said Peter. 

“No, uh, this is just some family hijinks,” Kendall tried to protest.

Marcia leaned in closer to Logan to ask, “Is this true?”

That seemed to be the last straw for him, because he yelled out, “Will you stop?”

More tense silence. Your foot rested over Roman’s, which was bouncing up and down rapidly beneath your heel. His hand rested on your knee, gripping a tad too tight.

“Well. I was just thinking that it’s such a beautiful, clear night out. Mark—would you like to guide us on a little after-dinner stargaze?” Nan asked.

And with that, came the end of the dinner.

“Did you guys know?” Tabitha asked both you and Roman as the three of you pushed away from the table to head outside. 

“No. No, I didn’t,” said Roman, still in shock.

You had a feeling, sure—there was no way it’d be Connor. Not Kendall, because of his recent endeavors with trying to take over the company, along with his substance abuse. It was between Roman and Shiv, and it didn’t take a genius to see that Logan didn’t think his youngest son was all that competent. That left only Shiv, after all.

“I didn’t know,” you simply said. 

The three of you strode out, leaving only Shiv and Logan left in the dining room.

“Those stars were really nice,” Tabitha said, lounging on the bed as Roman aggressively rummaged through the luggage in search of his toothbrush.

He was growing increasingly agitated about the idea of Shiv taking over the company, channeling his frustrations out on the poor suitcase for not presenting him his toothbrush on a golden pedestal. With a groan and a hand carding through his hair, Roman kicked at its side, sending the bag skidding against the wall.

“Ro,” Tabitha called. “I have a meeting on Monday, and I’d really love to deal with your neuroses and talk about it and everything but, uh, if you’re gonna lose your mind in here, I might just see if Naomi would let me crash in her bed.”

The man pulled on his face. He hummed once, then twice, as if he was deliberating over something.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s fuck.”

A disbelieving smile danced across her face. She thought he was full of shit. “Yeah, totally. We do the sex so well, so that’s a brilliant idea.”

Clenching his jaw, Roman clambered onto the bed. “Alright. Come on. Come here, you hot fucking piece of shit.”

He tried kissing her, but his nose knocked into hers the wrong way, his hand gripped at her shoulder at an awkward angle, and his lips fell onto only the upper corner of her mouth, barely even counting as a kiss. 

“Woah, easy there, wolfman!” She burst into a fit of laughter, and Roman pulled away with a string of insecure apologies, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, which throbbed from the impact. 

“That was awesome,” he bit out, lying face-down on the bed next to her. “I’m so fucking good at this. Sorry.”

“Yeah, you were, like, squeezing my shoulder really fucking hard—”

“Wasn’t that sexy? How I just took you? Bet you orgasmed like five times in a row.” Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Do you want to, though? Like actually?”

She smiled. “Mmkay. Do I want to…? Make love?”

He frowned. “Nope. Wow. I just—” A groan and a sigh.

Features softening, Tabitha reached out to rub at Roman’s back. “Hey. I’m not… uninterested in solving you.”

Roman turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we can make it, like… I don’t know… wrong?”

Tabitha was supposed to be dead. Which—and Roman thought this was quite obvious—meant that she wasn’t supposed to be wet. Now, there were a million and one ways for them to have sex and have it be wrong (like how it felt with you, maybe), but he’d suggested for her to play dead because… well, because he didn’t want it to feel like he was having sex with her. 

The very thought of fucking Tabitha didn’t sit quite right with him. He liked her a lot, and she was fucking hot as shit, but Roman just… couldn’t. He just couldn’t! Maybe she was right. Maybe they were better off as eunuch besties.

And so it came as no shock to both parties when the dead woman sex didn’t end up working out. Tabitha murmured that the morgue was closing for the night—and that she’d go wank off in the bathroom with her electric toothbrush as a makeshift vibrator. Roman apologized to her again, and curled up in the middle of the bed.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have sex with his girlfriend, like any other fucking person would?

After five minutes of wallowing in his own shame, Roman dragged himself off the bed and did what he knew how to do best: he ran straight to you.

When there was a knock at your door, you were ninety percent sure it was Roman. The other, more terrified, ten percent anxiously wondered if it was Sleazy Pete coming to talk your ear off some more about the latest developments in artificial intelligence. 

To your relief, it was Roman, clad in a loose white shirt and soft, dark pants. 

“Hey, Romeo,” you greeted, pulling him in and glancing out the hallway, making sure nobody was around to see. “Man, am I glad to see you. I was really scared you were somebody else.”

He made a high-pitched, humorous noise, crossing his arms as you softly shut the door closed. “Peter? Oh, no. He’s too high and mighty to come chasing after you so early. He’s the kind to date the same person for ten years, accidentally cum inside one time and knock them up, which then keeps them chained to his side for the rest of his life. You’re good for now.”

“For now?” You were ready to make another quippy retort, when you noticed the way Roman scuffed his bare feet into the carpet, hand scratching at the back of his head. Something was bugging him. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Huh? Nothing happened. Fuck off.”

Biting at the inside of your cheek, you reached out to him, holding both his hands within yours. “Rome.”

He parroted your name in an equally emphatic manner. 

You sat down on the bed, steering him to sit beside you. “Is this about Shiv?”

Oh. Right. He’d been so caught up with his guilt and shame over Tabitha that he’d momentarily forgotten about that other part of his life that was just majorly fucked over. 

Roman shrugged. “She fucked up bad, huh?”

You laid down, which prompted him to follow you, his head leaning on your shoulder. The two of you stared up at the ceiling together. 

“We all make mistakes. I think your dad probably led her on with a carrot painted with faux gold. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your long-time friend made a noise of agreement. 

Comfortable silence stretched thinly between the two of you. Roman faintly noticed that your hair was damp—you’d probably taken a shower after the walk. After inhaling sharply, he caught a whiff of your body spray: sweeter than fucking cotton candy and it almost made him want to puke. Key word being almost—Roman rather liked the smell. Especially on you.

“You smell good.”

“Mmh. Thanks.”

You arched your back, bones popping with your movement as you mumbled under your breath sleepily. Something within Roman stirred. 

“I tried to have sex with Tabitha.”

Suddenly, you weren’t all that sleepy anymore. “Oh? How’d it go?”

“I…” Roman winced. Saying it out loud made it sound so much worse, for some reason. “I pretended she was dead.”

“What?” There was a mildly shocked laugh to your tone.

“Consensually!” he vehemently tacked on. “But, you know, she was fuckin’ dripping for me, so… took the experience away, I guess. I don’t know. I like her a lot. I just don’t… I don’t…”

“You don’t want to have sex with her?”

Another shrug. Roman blew out a drawn-out exhale. “Yeah. I dunno.”

“That’s okay, Rome. You don’t need to have sex if you don’t want to, and you shouldn’t feel bad about not wanting it. That’s literally the definition of consent.”

A part of Roman seemed to melt with your words. Your affirmation that there wasn’t something wrong with him (or, at least that one trait of his, he knew there were several other parts of him that you’d consider highly immoral) relieved him more than he’d care to admit.

“Well… I do want it. I just don’t want it with her, maybe?” His voice went all soft yet high-pitched at the end of the question.

Suddenly, you turned your head to him, your nose only a hair’s breadth away from his. 

“Well, Ro,” you began, husky and low, “who would you want it with?”

He didn’t need to say it. You knew already.

“Who do you want to touch you?” you murmured, hand reaching out to skim over his chest, his stomach, grazing over the very top of his pants and toying with the band of his boxers. “Who do you want to make you feel good, Romeo?”

A low whine caught within his throat when you leaned forward to kiss up the column of his throat, nipping at the skin lightly. All of his sanity seemed to fly straight out the window when your hand dipped within his boxer, tugging out his semi-hard cock, languidly stroking along the length. He moaned, chest rumbling with the sound.

Your eyelids hung low as you nosed along his jaw, which strained with how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Mmh, you’re a dirty little pervert, aren’t you? Sneaking away from your girlfriend to rut your pretty cock against me. You’re a mess and I’ve barely even touched you, Rome.”

It’d been so long. So fucking long since someone touched him this way. Since he’d let someone touch him like this. Since he wanted someone to touch him like this. It was all you. Just you, and only you.

And so, it was no wonder that he was nearing his orgasm already, twitching within your grasp as he whined louder. He murmured unintelligibly, pleading for something he didn’t yet know. 

“Can you be a good boy and cum for me?” you susurrated, planting kisses over his jaw, his cheek, the bridge of his nose. You didn’t dare kiss him on the lips—you weren’t quite sure if that would be too far for your peculiar relationship. 

When he came, a loud groan erupted from his throat, which was quickly muffled when you clapped a palm over his mouth, his eyes flew open to meet yours, pupils fully blown, almost eclipsing the molten brown of his irises. You stroked him through his orgasm, murmuring a mixture of degradations and praises all the way.

You pulled back when he began to jerk his hips away with overstimulation, panting against your palm. The sticky spend on your hand glistened beneath the lamp’s warm-hued light, and you brought it up to your face to kitten-lick his cum off his fingers, humming in satisfaction. The sight nearly made Roman pass out. He swallowed hard, propping himself up on the bed on an elbow.

Voice hoarse, he croaked out, “Thanks. Do you, uh… do you need…”

Yes. You wanted it so badly—you wanted him. 

But you knew Roman wasn’t really in the right mindspace to reciprocate anything at the moment. And the guilt that weighed heavy in your stomach would’ve only been worsened if you’d pressured him into anything that he might’ve been uncomfortable with. 

Baby steps. The two of you had been taking baby steps in your relationship ever since you were, well… babies.

“I’m fine, Rome,” you told him, ignoring the drenched throbbing between your thighs and crawling up next to him to lay down. “You can repay me in the future.”

The haze from his orgasm was beginning to clear away. Roman’s nose buried into your sweet-smelling hair. “With, like, a fuckin’ Baskin Robbins coupon or my tongue up your vagina?”

A soft laugh and a shake of your head. “Both sound wonderful,” you told him, curling up into his warmth. A wave of sleepiness overtook you. It’d been a really long day. “Night, Rome.”

“Night, fuck-face.” 

You might’ve simply hallucinated it in your sleep-addled mind, but you could feel a faint brush of lips on your forehead, along with a whisper of thanks. You fell asleep with a smile on your face that night. Roman had taken a picture (with the flash on, which made for quite unflattering lighting) and sent it to you the next morning, giggling his amusing hyena-giggle while the two of you were in the bathroom—with you brushing your teeth and him perched up on the toilet seat lid. It was a tender moment of picturesque domesticism—a life that didn’t quite seem right for the two of you, unless it was with each other.

The rest of the weekend at the Pierce’s estate was uneventful. Everybody had gone home thinking the deal wasn’t going to go through—Shiv had told you her dad fucked everything by refusing to name her as the next CEO.

But, to everyone’s surprise except Logan’s, Nan Pierce ended up calling only a few hours later that she’d sell. You weren’t quite happy with the turn of events, but you supposed that’s just how it was with Logan. 

He always won.

Argestes, a business conference for important folk all over the world, was just under a month later. It was a rather prestigious event, the itinerary always decked with the most ludicrously rich and fanciful activities, with only limited invites handed out. 

This was to be your sixth annual year attending. 

You arrived with Roman practically draped over you, much to the press’ delight. After he made a snide comment about how manipulative you could be when it came to business, you bid him adieu, off to fraternize and mingle with potential allies you might need in your pocket. You were just grateful not to bump into Peter Pierce—the last thing you wanted to do was have him glued to your side for the rest of the weekend. 

The next day, when you’d just barely stepped out of your room, you got a frantic text from Roman. It was a link to a journal article about the cruise incidents, followed by a series of question marks and an indiscernible mash of emojis. The last text gave you the room he and his family were in. 

You rushed off to meet them there, checking your constantly buzzing phone along the way to see texts fly from dozens of people: Shiv, Gerri, your colleagues, your friends, your coworkers alike. This wasn’t a good look for the company, that was for sure. 

When you finally got there, Roman quirked a brow at you. “Have you read this? Tell me this isn’t the greyest shit you’ve ever read.”

“Give me a second, I’ve barely even woken up, much less had time to read the article.” You settled in beside him, opening up the link to begin reading. From across the room, Logan was skimming through a physical copy, glasses on the very tip of his nose as he mumbled under his breath. Shiv was on the other end, waiting for everyone to finish reading. 

Finally, you reached the end of the article, slumping back with furrowed brows. “This is, uhm, serious stuff but it’s also really unclear what’s actually being thrown at the wall here.”

“Maybe this, maybe that bullshit,” Roman uttered.

“Rome, careful,” said Kendall.

“Is this one of those things I need a woman to explain to me why it’s bad?” His head knocked into yours. “You tell me—is it bad?”

Offering him a shrug, you huffed out a sigh and scrolled all the way back up to read it again. “It’s bad, it’s fucking awful someone had to go through this—but in all honesty, I expected far worse for a journal article to blow up this much.”

Growing frustrated, Logan ripped his glasses off. “What’s the protein?”

A man you only faintly recalled as Hugo Baker, part of the Parks and Cruises sector, replied, “They found a woman, Keerson. She was working the cruises back in the mid nineties, and name-checked Lester McClintock.”

Gerri nodded. “She says Uncle Mo asked for sex with her and the other dancers to get their contracts renewed.”

“So they fucked?” Logan asked.

“It says sexual exploitation,” clarified Shiv.

“Said subject of the article is dead,” you chimed in. “So the blame on Mo will effectively be shifted onto Waystar. Negligence of ethical conduct, cruise malpractice, so on and so forth.”

A moment of silence filled the room.

“Well, what can we do about it?” Roman queried. 

Gerri said, “There’s not a lot of specifics. It’s not detailed. Cold hard facts: it’s one woman in the nineties, not twenty women four years ago.”

This made Kendall’s face sour, as he pulled the bill of his cap down lower over his face. “Great. I’m glad we’re so good at doing victim math.”

“Yeah, well, Gerri’s just saying it doesn’t necessarily punch through,” Shiv defended.

The older brother gestured to his phone. “Sure, but… this is not okay.”

“We know it’s not okay, that’s why we’re preparing a corporate response,” the redhead bit back. 

The conversation moved on to PR, which Gerri claimed to be Preston. This was met with Shiv’s vehement disapproval—they were three disgusting, old white dudes who, in her words, would just claim the women to be money-grabbing sluts.

“Call me sociopathic but isn’t this a tiny bit quaint in comparison to the past few years?” asked Roman. 

You bit down on the inside of your cheek in thought. “I think they’re hyperfixating on this right now because they see it as a gap in the chainmail. Mo is dead. He’s not around to bear the weight of blame on his shoulders.”

“We’re being punished for the sins of others,” claimed Logan. “No one real gives a fuck.”

You narrowed your eyes at the hot take. 

For once, you seemed to agree with Kendall when he shook his head. “No, no, we can’t be seen to minimize. I think we need to loudly and quickly say that this is not okay.”

“The question is, what would make it go away the fastest? Do we say it’s something and fix it, or say that it’s nothing and fuck off?” Gerri asked.

“Something,” pushed Kendall. “There has to be consequences.”

To your frustration, Shiv shook her head. “Nope. Condemn and move on. It’s just good advice.”

“Not to be the only frilly-pink feminist in the room, but this isn’t something to sweep under the rug. It may not seem that serious at first glance because of the vagueness but a few dozen women’s lives were ruined, and that’s just barely what we know because of the NDAs. If we ignore it now, it’ll come back to bite the company in the ass later down the line. The least we can do is compensate them, no?” you said, crossing your arms.

Sinking into a wooden chair that creaked beneath his weight, Logan threw his hands up. “This is bullshit. It’s all about me! It’s not real, it’s not honest. They don’t give a flying fuck for these poor bitches. They hate me! And I won’t be giving them the satisfaction of giving in. So no—condemn and move on.” 

You wanted to bury your face in your hands and scream. But you didn’t. You stood still and expressionless. 

They started discussing the panel for later that day. The original plan was for it to be Kendall and Roman up there, but having a woman up there would be much more… fitting given the well-timed article’s release. Shiv haughtily refused, but softened upon her dad asking her if she would. 

She’d think about it. 

And with that, the group began to file out. 

The hours trickled on by and before you knew it, there was only ten minutes until Roman and Kendall were supposed to go up for the panel. You were helping Rome rehearse through what he was supposed to say, even though you didn’t agree with the direction they were taking with simply condemning—it was better than not addressing it at all. 

It was all going smoothly until Shiv burst through the doors, declaring that she wanted to be up there for the panel, much to both Kendall and Roman’s dismay.

“Come on, man. It’s panicky as fuck,” said the eldest of the three. “It looks… kind of fucking cheesy, to be honest. Like we’re throwing our token woman at it? The woman who’s not even in our company?”

“Well, it can’t be two men up there right now. It just—it can’t. Right?” Shiv rounded her gaze to you, and you shrugged half-heartedly. 

“I don’t know, Shiv.”

Standing up, Hugo suggested, “Well, the audience is just expecting Roys, so—maybe we stick at two and someone relaxes.”

Logan’s gaze fell on his youngest son. “Romulus.”

“What? You want to pull me? That—that looks like a humiliation,” your friend heatedly defended. 

“We could just say you got sick,” Hugo said.

Both you and Roman made eye contact and you nodded at him to defend himself.

“No. No, you can’t just fuckin’ bump me ten minutes before the panel. That’s bullshit! Fuck that. Respectfully, dad, why is Shiv even here?” he hissed.

“I was invited,” Shiv replied in a serrated tone.

Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, no, I need to be out there. We need to hang together. You know, like, family.”

Rolling her eyes, Shiv drew herself to her full height. “Oh, so you wanna get Connor on the line, get him to come down here, too? Let him dog-pile on so no one’s nose gets put out of joint?”

“I’ll put your nose out of joint!”

“Oh, yeah, you should say that on the panel—!” Shiv pursed her lips. “If you wanna know what I really think—I think you should drop both of them and I’ll do it solo.”

This time, you were quick to say, “Shiv, I love you, but you’re not part of the company yet. To shove you up there alone would look like fucking… empty wokeness. Like we’re smothering the problem with estrogen and calling it a day.”

Roman nodded. “Pretty desperate, Shiv—exploiting the situation for personal gain, hm?”

The three siblings bickered some more until it grew quite cumbersome and repetitive. 

Two minutes until the panel.

Logan held up three fingers, and that was the end of that.

The panel was… certainly a panel.

It was a lot of dancing around the subject between Kendall and Shiv. You were pretty sure Roman had only said a grand total of two short sentences. 

“We’ll do whatever it takes, you know? We’ll do whatever anyone wants,” he had said. 

From where you were watching on a screen backstage, you face-palmed with a sigh.

By the end, Shiv had made the fatal mistake of implying that Logan should step down from his position, going so far as to call him an old dinosaur. 

It was a shitshow, painted over with glitter and rainbows. In all honesty, it was an embarrassment to even associate yourself with the company at this point. There went all your business schmoozing and fraternizing for the past two days—right down the drain.

“Nice. Bring your daughter to the slaughter. Did you tell the old dinosaur what you were going to do?” Roman asked his twin once the three siblings returned to the room you were in. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, ‘We will do whatever anyone wants?’ What the hell was that?” Kendall asked.

Shrugging, Roman clapped both his hands on your shoulders from behind, squeezing your tensed muscles. “Fuck it, right? It’s just words. There’s no press, anyway. Who gives a shit?”

It was then that Logan walked in, Marcia and Gerri in tow. Roman’s hands slipped away from you to go pour himself a drink and stand by his father.

“It was too much, Siobhan,” said their stepmother. “Dinosaurs?”

Ducking his head, Kendall nodded. “It was over the line. Shiv was over the line.”

Brows cinching, Shiv protested, “Oh, I think it was pretty clear that I was talking about—”

Roman interrupted after taking a long sip of champagne. “No, it was clear, yeah. You tortured the old dinosaur. Barbecued him alive—!”

In a blink of an eye, Logan swung around and back-handed his son straight across the jaw, bellowing out, “Don’t fuck with me!”

The hit rang loud and true across the room. Flesh on flesh, skin on skin, father to son, boot to dog.

Roman fell back with a muffled noise, and you were immediately shooting out of your seat to curl a protective arm around him, placing yourself between him and his aggrieved father. Commotion sprung out—Kendall vehemently yelling at Logan not to touch his brother as if he were a valiant hero, Gerri trying her best to quell the situation with reassuring words.

But all the noise was drowned out in your ears. It was just you and Roman.

It was like you were children all over again, watching with watery eyes as young Roman tried his best to pick himself up after Logan’s frequent beatings. You hadn’t even noticed that your eyes had welled up with a warbling film of stinging tears, heart slamming against your ribcage with staggering, uneven jolts. 

He hunched over, working his jaw and spitting into his palm a second later. 

A tooth fell past his lips, flecked with blood and spit. You could feel your lips twitch downwards as you tried your hardest not to cry.

Kendall flanked to his left, his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and Shiv stood in front of him.

“Rome—you alright?” they both asked. “You okay?”

He worked his jaw again, then shrugged off Kendall’s hand. He was in no mood to be coddled by anyone but you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fucking fine! Just fucking—leave me alone. I’m fine.” As you began to lead him away, he called over his shoulder. “It’s just a tooth. I’ll get another one.”

Once it was just the two of you in the hallway, Roman dropped the act. It hurt like hell, and he felt safe enough around you not to have to put up a front.

You tugged him into your room with a mildly haunted expression, fingers gripping far too tightly into Roman’s arm. He walked into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out. The water ran a dark shade of pink. 

As he gingerly began brushing his teeth with a spare toothbrush you handed him, you studied his reflection. He stared back, hating how worried you looked for him. 

“You want me to call a medic?” you asked, voice small. “There’s a few on site.”

Roman squinted at nothing in particular, humming. His tongue ran along the part of his gums that throbbed the most. It tasted like copper. A familiar taste. Nostalgic, even.

“No.”

“Do you need to be alone?”

“Fuck, no.”

You rolled a tissue into a tightly-packed bundle, telling him to bite down on it to stop the bleeding. He did as you told, but not without complaining about it tasting like ass. It actually tasted like nothing, but Roman wanted to make you smile. He hated seeing you so worked up.

With that, the two of you made your way out of the bathroom. You made him sit down on your bed and wrapped your arms around him, clinging onto him like a koala to a tree trunk. The both of you slowly kicked off layers of your clothes, trying your best not to break hold of each other in the process. Shoes first, then jackets, then pants, then button-ups.

You were left in a dark short sleeve and your underwear, and he’d tossed off all his clothes except his boxers. 

“The Argie awards are in an hour,” said Roman. His lips brushed against your collarbone as he rested his forehead onto the slope of your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have stripped down to nearly nothing if I was planning on going.”

“You’re gonna miss dinner. You’ll starve to death—and you won’t be allowed to blame me for it.”

“I have a banana somewhere in here. Plus—room service is only a call away.”

“Mmh. Mmkay.”

The tooth was still curled inside his clenched fist. 

“Wait,” you murmured against him, crawling off his lap to grapple for your wallet that you’d left on the nightstand. Roman murmured unhappily at the loss of warm contact, rubbing his palms up and down your legs. “I don’t really carry cash around these days but… I always keep a few spare coins in here.”

He watched as you fished through the slits, brandishing first a dime, then a nickel. Another dime.

Then you pulled out a quarter, grinning widely.

“I’m supposed to slip this under your pillow while you’re sleeping, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me get up for the rest of the night,” you whispered, crawling back to him and throwing a leg over his waist. He curled his own legs around you as well, leaning his weight into you. His head throbbed, his jaw throbbed harder, his heart throbbed the most. 

The cool metal of the quarter fell into his free hand. Then, he unfurled his fist. You stared down at the bloody tooth with unsure eyes.

“You have pretty teeth,” you told him after snapping out of your initial frozen state, pressing your nose into his uninjured cheek. “Even when we were kids, you had the prettiest pearly whites.”

Roman smiled, even though it ached to. “I remember you chased me around for my tooth once. Like a fucking freak.”

“Hm. You loved it, Romey.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he said, trying his best to be dismissive. Then, he craned his arm to place the tooth on the nightstand. 

You yawned, and he followed closely after you.

“It’s only eight at night. We’re falling asleep at fuckin’... fucking granny hour,” he grumbled.

A giggle, cut off by another yawn. “I don’t blame us. It’s been a long day. Sweet dreams, Romeo.”

“Night, fuck-face.”

“You know I love you, right?” you whispered. A light kiss to his throat as he swallowed.

“Obviously. You’re infatuated with me. Obsessed, even.”

If one was infatuated-slash-obsessed with the other, it’d most certainly be Roman.

You hummed and grinned into him. You didn’t deny his words, merely huffing with amusement. “I’m going to take your tooth and sell it on EBay for a hundred bucks.”

I’m fucking in love you, he wanted to scream.

“Fuck off,” he said. “It’s worth a million bucks at least. Shut up—stop fucking smiling, you freak. Go to sleep.”

You settled against him some more, and drifted off a few minutes later, listening to his heart beat from his throat.

You weren’t entirely sure what had transpired during the last few hours of Argestes, but there was one thing made clear: Nan Pierce had called off the acquisition entirely. You had no idea what to think of the entire situation anymore. You were just… tired of it all.

Not long after, a team had called you in to record a video message for Logan’s big fiftieth anniversary at Waystar. You were given very little time to figure out what to say, and so your message was short and sweet:

“Hey, Uncle Logan. I think we all owe you a bit of gratitude for giving half a century of your life to the large, ever-expanding field we call media. You’ve always been a constant figure in my life—heh, more constant than my own parents. I couldn’t imagine where I’d be without you. Congratulations, and I look forward to the next fifty years working by your side.”

It wasn’t over the top, and only slightly sugar-coated with falsities. 

Once you stepped out of the recording booth, Roman shot you a grin. “Cocksucker,” he teased. “There you go—something you and Rhea can bond over.”

You prodded his chest with stiff fingers. “Shut up,” you fondly told him.

“How’d you even get all that in one fucking take? They had me say ‘I love you, Dad’, like, ten times in a row.”

Before you could retort back, the two of you bumped into Shiv, who was typing away furiously at her phone. 

“What do you guys reckon—you think Dad is boning Rhea?” she asked.

With a snort, Roman strode away to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Can’t wrap my head around that. Too steamy. Too hot.”

“You are a walking Freudian complex, you know that, Ro?” you asked him, bumping his hips with yours so he’d move over as you fixed your own drink. “I don’t wanna think about it, honestly. Who my godfather fucks is really none of my business.”

“You’re just jealous. You want daddykins all to yourself!” said Roman in a sing-song voice, which made you purposefully step onto his toes. “OW!”

The hot coffee jostled over the rim of his cup and some of it sloshed onto his chest. He sent you a glare and you kissed his cheek with a sweet smile before moving off to sit next to Connor.

“Yeah, yeah, but we should, like, talk about what this means. We’re… we’re all sensing the shift, right?” asked Shiv.

“Gerri says she’s the new thing,” said Roman as he took a seat beside you, obnoxiously leaning back to drape both his legs over your thighs.

Connor lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, it just so happens that Gerri was the new thing a while back.”

“Mmh—Logan made it clear that she was more or less there as a placeholder,” you said, sipping on your cup, watching the siblings over the rim. “Come on—there’s no way Logan is handing the company over to a woman, much less a woman older than fifty. It’s a shame, because Gerri really could’ve been a great CEO had she been given an actual chance.”

It didn’t go past your notice to see Shiv’s face contort with dismay at your words. Not too long ago, she’d been under the impression that Logan was handing the company over to a woman—her. 

“I just think we need to be careful,” she said.

“Awh, what’s wrong? You all wedgied up because Rhea stood on your back and worked your arms like an elliptical?” asked Roman, which made both you and Connor snort with amusement.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, we should probably have a plan. You know, in case Dad does something rash.”

It was then that Connor was called away to record his message, and Kendall sauntered in just a minute later. His jacket and pants were noticeably rumpled and a pair of sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Only assholes like Kendall would wear sunglasses indoors.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted everyone.

“You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday—you want us to think you got laid. Nice try.” Both you and Roman giggled like schoolgirls, which only had the older man rolling his eyes. 

“Well, have fun discussing killing Rhea—” you began.

“There wasn’t anything about killing—” protested Shiv.

“I’m gonna head out. Gotta get some work done before the flight to Dundee. Which, is so fucking over the top, by the way. Even my parents are going for this. They weren’t there for any of my birthdays in the past twenty years, but sure, let’s go to Uncle Logan’s celebration for his fiftieth year working at Waystar.” You nudged Roman’s legs off of yours so you could stand up. 

Rome’s eyes widened. “Your parents are coming? Damn. Rhea really went all out, didn’t she?”

You frowned. “Feels more like a personal affront to me than anything. Not looking forward to seeing them, but whatever. See you guys later.”

They all murmured their farewells and you patted Roman’s knee softly before heading out.

Dundee was cold. So cold that you had to wear two layers of thermal socks, and your toes were still cold. Roman made fun of you the entire way into the hotel room, joking about icicles forming beneath your chin. 

Once you were finally inside, you cranked your heater up as high as it could go, shedding all your layers off with a grateful moan. It’d been a long flight, and you were exhausted.

Roman laid down on your bed, lazily turning his head to follow your movements as you flitted to and fro around your room, unpacking your essentials.

“There’s better ways to warm up than hanging your wrinkled button-ups,” he quipped. One of his brows quirked upwards in an almost seductive manner.

You laughed at that, fishing out articles of clothing from your luggage. “You’re all bark and no bite, Roman. Besides—you literally brought Tabitha to this event. Where even is she, anyway?”

With a shrug, he remarked absentmindedly, “Oh, she’s off exploring all the joys of Scotland.”

“So… grass and sheep?”

He laughed his hyena-laugh. “Yeah, grass and sheep.” Then, he propped himself up on an elbow to face you properly. “Did you bring a date?”

“Ugh. Didn’t want to bring one. Not with my parents coming. It’ll be a nightmare.”

Something in Roman’s eyes softened. “I would’ve been your date if, uh, if I hadn’t already asked Tabs. To be fair, I asked her before I knew about your parents. I can kick her back to America right now if you ask.”

You paused in your ministrations. “Stop it. I like Tabs. She’s nice. And I wouldn’t have wanted you to be my date out of pity, anyway.”

Roman lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug, lips pursed. “It wouldn’t be pity if I wanted to.”

A beat of silence. 

You blew out a sigh. “I’m really here for the image. I’ll say hi to my parents, and then avoid them for the rest of the night.”

“I can help you with avoiding them.”

“Hm?”

“Gerri wants me to secure funding for Waystar to go private. As a… back up plan, in case everything combusts into fuckin’ flames. She wants me to target Eduard. Seduce him, or whatever. You can come with—butter him up with all your oozy corporate rank and that—that pretty face on your face. He wouldn’t be able to resist if we double-combo him.” Roman shot you a lopsided smile that only lifted one corner of his lips. You pushed away the urge to coo at the fact that he called your face pretty. “Or… you can flit around with all of Dad’s cocksuckers and awkwardly bump into your parents two hundred times before the waterworks break out and you make an embarrassment of yourself in the middle of the celebration.”

Done with putting away your clothes, you made your way to the bed and sat down beside him, your shoulder pressed up flush over his. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Rome. Yeah, of course I’ll come.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can repay me with a blowjob.”

You laughed, but a small part of you wondered if he was serious.

“Any other ways I can repay you? None that could, uhm, potentially warrant a lawsuit?”

Roman scratched at his chin in thought. “Yeah, actually—what if we got, like, married?” His voice went all soft and high-pitched. Lilting. Tentative. 

Your eyes widened at first, then narrowed thinly. “What?” you asked, partially incredulous. He was joking, right?

Right?

“Not like—” He gestured aimlessly. “Not like that. Not actual marriage. Like something equivalent to that—like me chaining you down in the basement, or something. Like me kidnapping you and keeping you hostage.”

“Romeo, what the hell are you talking about?” You sat forward, your face all the closer to his. “In what world is that equivalent to marriage?”

Nervous anxiety clawed within his stomach. “Jesus Christ, I’m not talking about marriage. Just something on that fucking level of us being tied together. I don’t know, you chop off my dick, I chop off your tongue, whatever the fuck. You know, like, you eat me, I eat you—like they do in Germany.”

You were pretty sure that’s not what they did in Germany.

“You know what I mean.” His eyes were pleading, asking you for something you weren’t quite sure of.

“I… I don’t think I do?” You took one of his hands. “Rome, what’s going on? You’re being… weirder than normal. Did something happen with Tabitha?”

Because he was in love with you and he had no idea how to say it. 

The answer to Roman was simple: he just wouldn’t.

Hastily, Roman pulled away from your touch. He rolled off the bed in one single motion, almost tumbling over his own feet as he scrambled to the door. He tried to ignore your crestfallen expression watching him put more distance between the two of you.

“No, nothing happened with Tabitha. Just, uh—just think about it. I’ll text you the details to meet Eduard. Bye!” He was already halfway out the door with his last word.

You screwed your lips to the side in puzzled exasperation, and blew out a heavy sigh.

The pub was nearly empty, save for a snogging couple near the back, and a few scattered about the seats casually sipping their ale as they watched the soccer match on the mounted television above the bar. Amongst them was Eduard, standing out like a sore thumb with his crisp suit and his dark, slicked-back hair. Just the sight of him seemed to cost money.

“My God, you smell like cotton candy—I almost want to lick your neck. Don’t you want to lick his neck, Y/N?” Roman asked instead of greeting him like any regular person would.

You shot him a half-hearted glare before sticking your hand out. Roman had always been one to overstep boundaries. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Asgarov.”

“Oh, please, Eduard is fine. And the pleasure is all mine,” he languidly drawled, eyes darting up and down your form as a pleased smile curled the corner of your lips. He firmly clasped your palm in a handshake. “I’ve heard much about you—general manager… the glue of the company, some people say. But Roman never mentioned that you were so beautiful.”

A large part of Roman’s insides bristled with hostility, an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he plastered on a strained smile anyway. “Yup, yeah, forgot to mention. But, uh, yeah, thanks for coming, man. My dad’s going to be very pleased when he sees old friends and whatnot…” He waved the bartender over to order himself a pint, and added on a non-alcoholic beverage for you—he knew you didn’t like to drink during the day. Then, he caught sight of the television. “What’s this? Who’s playing?”

“Scottish,” replied Eduard, taking a sip of his own beer. “I’m thinking of getting in.”

 Your eyebrows raised a notch. “Mmh, smart choice. Lots of buried money in European soccer leagues.”

Eduard spared you a warm smile.

A frown crossed Roman’s features—he was starting to regret inviting you, even though he’d been the one to suggest you flirt him up. 

“Scottish kicky-ball,” he remarked. “Looks like two eunuchs trying to fuck a letterbox.”

His foul comment went largely ignored by the two of you. 

Eduard was certainly an attractive man, you thought once you watched his tongue draw out to run along his lips in thought. “I’m liking the look of Hibs,” he said, eyes trained on the television, flitting down to glance at you for a second. “Or Hearts. I’m undecided.”

“Hearts?” asked Roman. “That’s my dad’s team. The only childhood relic he can stomach.”

Hazy memories of seven-year-old you peeking over the expensive leather couches to see what your godfather was watching on screen came across your mind. It always cycled through the same three channels: ATN, soccer, and old black-and-white English films from the fifties. You never stayed for long, always darting out of the room in fear of him turning to see you there, watching along with him. But from the little that you did catch a glimpse of—you could only barely recall the green insignias and jerseys of the Hibs on the screen.

“I think he was a Hibs fan, no?” you asked, thanking the bartender when he slid your drink over. 

Roman scoffed. “Pfft—I think I’d know which team dad likes.” You didn’t bother trying to argue with him. After all, your childhood memories weren’t exactly the most reliable source.

With a half-minded hum, Eduard said, “I’ve got an agent in Spain. I buy the club, he loans me nine shit-hot players. Climb the ladder, take the second Champion’s League space, UEFA goes full European super-league, flip it, walk away.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds fucking slick, dude,” Roman replied, sipping on the frothy part of his drink. “Slicker than cum on a dolphin’s back.”

“You want in?” asked Eduard.

“Mmh, maybe. But before all that—can we talk about what we talked about before? You know, a major injection, or even taking us private. Have you talked to your dad?” asked Roman. 

A smile and a nod. “It’s a conversation we can have—I have total, three-sixty latitude to work on my father’s behalf.”

“Great. Yeah, cool. No, me too. Yup.”

He didn’t, but you wisely kept your mouth shut. 

“Weird, how much we’re the same,” said Roman, playfully punching Eduard’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you guys are practically twins,” you quipped, smiling over the rim of your glass. “Couldn’t tell the two of you apart.”

The dark-haired man tilted his head. “Buy them with me. We’ll split it fifty-fifty.”

“I, uh…” Roman spared you a look, silently asking you if he was being stupid with his rashness. “I don’t really see a downside, other than zero knowledge or interest in Scottish football. But, yeah! Hearts. Sounds fun.”

“Hibs,” you said.

Roman wrinkled his nose. “Hearts.”

“Hearts, it is,” said Eduard.

It wasn’t Hearts. 

After Kendall’s laughable rap song about—what was it—stanning his dad and calling him the OG, Roman had broken the news that he’d bought the Hearts club as a present for Logan on such a special day.

Logan fixed the three of you with a blank stare. 

“The Hearts?” he echoed.

Roman spread his arms, wiggling the tips of his finger in a sad rendition of jazz hands. “Mhm.”

“Hearts Football Club?”

Roman nodded.

Shiftily, Logan looked towards you. He always looked to you for clarification when he couldn’t understand his son—which was quite often.

“Uhm, Roman bought the Hearts for you,” you said, voice small.

“It’s your team, right?” Rome asked.

A beat of silence.

“I’m Hibs,” said your godfather.

You fucking knew it.

“You’re Hibs,” parroted Roman, his shoulders beginning to droop. “Really? Are you sure? I thought you were Hearts—I’m pretty sure you were Hearts, dad.”

Scratching at his chin, Logan softly said, “You know what, maybe you’re right. Hm. How would I know what team I’ve supported all my fucking life? Who knows—maybe I supported Kilmarnock. Or Fucklechester Rangers? I mean, how could I possibly know?”

Roman recoiled as if he’d been kicked. Eduard patted his shoulder, and brushed his hand along your lower back as he slipped away, chest burning with secondhand embarrassment. 

“Sorry, Uncle Logan, there’s just been a, uh, a miscommunication—” you said, hastily tugging Roman away. The two of you wove through the crowd until you got out of the large room, into one of the quieter halls. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, watching Roman frustratedly pace back and forth in front of you. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he snapped out, “I thought he was fucking Hearts, dude!”

“... I told you, Ro.”

He scowled. “Ugh. Shut up.”

Before you could ask if he could maybe switch somehow, two figures pushed through the doors, coming to stand in front of you. You tore your gaze away from the flustered man, fixing your eyes on—

Fuck.

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N,” said your mother. In her hand was a glass of wine, half empty. “You’ve grown quite a bit. Have you gained weight?”

She reached out, but you immediately stepped back, closer to Roman. 

After getting over your initial shock, you cleared your throat and tentatively responded, “Hi, mom. Dad.”

The couple gave you an awkward onceover. It’d been years since you last saw them, with maybe one or two texts exchanged every year for the holidays. Though, even that wasn’t a guarantee.

“We, uhm, we saw you rush out with Roman here and thought we’d say hello,” said your father, sparing you a terse smile.

“Wow.” Roman, unsurprisingly, inserted himself into the conversation. “And the parents of the year award goes to…”

“You thought you’d say hello. Jesus—I haven’t seen either of you in fucking forever and the first thing you do is nitpick at my appearance?” you growled, fists clenching by your side. “Listen, if you want to be in my life, then be in my life. But you can’t pretend that everything is okay when you see me and then promptly waltz off and disappear for another decade or two.”

Your mother sipped at her wine, at a loss for words. They glanced at each other, both wearing a mildly guilty expression, but had really nothing to defend themself with.

With an angry scoff, you stormed back into the room where Logan was about to give his closing speech, shoulder roughly knocking into your father’s as you brushed past him. 

Roman scratched the back of his head, left alone with your parents. 

“For the record, Y/N is doing fucking great without either of you. You know—crunching those numbers, being a goddamn messiah for the lower-level employees, fucking the boss. All that jazz.” He grinned and hum-laughed when their eyes widened in shock, and sauntered in after you. It wasn’t exactly that white of a lie. You’d given him a handjob and the two of you technically had phone sex—would those two activities put together constitute as one whole traditional, in-person fuck?

He’d come in to stand beside you and Tabitha just in time to hear his father make the announcement.

“... And I shall be appointing Rhea Jarrell as my Chief Executive Operator.”

The crowd burst into applause. Roman clapped with a faux-surprised expression. When he glanced at you, you were wiping the corner of your eyes with the back of your palm and hastily clapped along.

Once the cheers began to mellow away, Roman stopped clapping to lace his fingers through the gaps of yours, squeezing tight. Your eyes watered even more at the contact, but you squeezed back in gratitude.

There was an interview of  James Weissel on the television: a whistleblowing interview tossing Gerri, Kendall, and Tom into the stinking shitpot that was the cruise incidents, accusing the three of covering up McClintock’s actions. Logan had shut it off before anybody could finish watching.

Whilst everyone was busy prattling off about how bad of a situation this was, Gerri seemed to be the one lighthouse amidst the storm.

“I say we tell the truth,” she calmly said, adjusting her glasses to sit higher up her nose. “The family knew nothing of this. We throw Mo overboard. Mo, bad apple. Jim Weasel, bad apple. Spies a book deal—sotto voce, backed by Sandy and Stewy. All corporate fuckery, no real concern. In terms of historic shit? I say we give up Bill. He should’ve let us know what he discovered rather than cleaning up without telling us the details.”

Bill had been the old Tom before Tom was, well, Tom.

And so there was the strategy: letting Bill take the fall, and kill him off. It wasn’t… a decision you necessarily felt good about, but it was the least messy the situation could be.

Things felt like they’d be smoothed over, just for a little bit.

But then Siobhan came in, phone clutched tightly in her hand. “Gil is going to call for hearings.”

This stirred up quite a murmur in the room. Both Kendall and Frank sat up in their seats with incredulous questions on the tip of their tongues.

“Yeah, Senate Commerce. Probably House, too.” 

Gerri was on her phone in an instant. “Buckle up folks,” she said while scrolling through the news. “We’re going to get an invite to the national latrine. See who’s going to take a public dump.”

“Mr. Fuck is going to Washington,” Shiv sighed.

It was then that Logan let out an ear-splitting bellow of rage. It shocked both you and Roman into flinching. 

“NO! I CAN’T HAVE THIS NOW!” he screamed in distress.

There was a long moment of silence. 

In a leveled tone, you asked Shiv, “Who’s testifying?”

“Uh, well… well, they’d want Dad.”

Kendall quickly protested, “No, we can’t—we won’t let that happen—”

“Protect the egg chamber!” said Roman. Nobody could quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not. 

It was then that Hugo suggested Gerri and Tom to testify. The group went back and forth for a little while longer on what the play would be, but it was quite clear that everybody was already settled with Gerri and Tom going up there. 

To your surprise, Logan called for you and Roman out of the room. 

A part of you wondered if he’d beat Roman over the head with his fancy business shoe for buying the wrong soccer team. You certainly wouldn’t put it past him, especially in his already-agitated state. 

“I need both of your help,” he told the two of you once you were out of the room, lingering by the foot of the pristine staircase. 

“Need someone to run to the store for smokes?” Roman asked, his hands propped on his hips.

“This’ll go on all night… and it might not be okay,” your godfather said.

This made you tilt your head. “Will this really sway the shareholders into folding? It happened under our noses three decades ago, and the perpetrator is dead.”

“The very fact that we’re being called to testify will spook the shareholders. I’m on a knife’s edge.” He grunted softly as he lowered himself to sit on one of the lower steps of the cold staircase. “Ten bad minutes on camera, and that could be it. The end.”

Roman’s brows raised. “The end? Come on, Dad.”

“I need the two of you to chase down the sovereign wealth money,” said Logan.

You and Roman glanced at one another. Was he being serious? 

“Right. Uhm… I mean—that’s… it’s a cool idea, but it’d be a stretch, no?” Roman tentatively brought up. 

Logan leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his elbows, which were resting upon his knees. Though he had made himself physically smaller, he’d always be the biggest presence in the room. “We need that central Asian money. It’s a time out from the responsibilities of being a public company. That’s a fucking lifeline, if I’ve ever seen one.”

“They’d be taking on a massive amount of debt. That’s a… huge responsibility, Uncle Logan.” 

The older man snorted. “Which is why I’m making you go with him. Make sure he doesn’t fuck up. Keep it under wraps. And bring Karl and Laird with you, as well, for the financial matters.” There was a pause as he studied the two of you. “Can you do it?”

Roman scratched anxiously at the back of his head. “Fuck, Dad, I want to say I can. But, I’ll be honest—if it’s, like, really important… I mean, I can say I can do it—like one of those firefighters in the movies. But I don’t know if—”

“You act the fuckleknuckle, but you know… people like you.” 

There it was. A narrow slant of light. It wasn’t real—at least, you didn’t think it was—but it was warmth regardless.

Roman’s features twisted. “It’s a really big fucking deal.”

“Nah. It’s getting the right number from the right suit. Getting your dick in there is easy. Getting into bed—that’s the hard part,” said his father. “You can do it. Both of you can.”

You scuffed your shoe against the floor just as Roman’s nose twitched. 

“Yeah. Sure, dad, I got it.”

Logan pushed himself off the staircase, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. The light was warm, and far too addicting. He smiled softly. 

It wasn’t real, you had to remind yourself. It’s never real. But did that really matter? Did it?

“You’re brilliant, my dear. A real force to reckon with. I trust you to hammer the nail right on its head,” he said. 

You swallowed harshly. “I hope we won’t disappoint, Uncle.”

When he pulled away, he began to make his way towards the doors once more. “Keep me close,” he said. 

And with that, he was gone.

Roman let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

“Why does it feel like we just dug our own graves? I feel like I’ve got fuckin’ dirt in my eyes,” he lamented just as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You know, if the company ever kills you off, I’ll quit. I don’t know how I’d do it around here without you.”

“All bark, still no bite,” you quietly told him. “You wouldn’t leave the company. Not on your own free will.”

Like a caged dog: it was only able to escape if their owner opened the door for them.

“I’ll kill myself if they kill you. I mean it—I’ll eat a fucking silver bullet.”

“How romantic.”

“Mhm—we’re like fuckin’... Romeo and Juliet.”

He smiled, and so did you.

“C’mon. Let’s go watch the grown-ass men I bought kick around balls for a bit,” said Roman.

Eduard greeted you at the soccer team’s practice field with a kiss on the cheek, Roman with a firm handshake. 

“It’s good to see you,” you told him with a genuine smile. 

“Good to see you guys, too,” he replied. His expression was well-guarded behind a pair of dark shades. “With everything I’ve heard going down at Waystar, I was surprised you even showed up.”

With a shrug, Roman said, “I have nothing better to do, I promise. I’m gonna cut right to the chase here—do you think there’s any chance you guys have the muscle to take us private? Is that something that’s interesting to you and your dad?”

With nearly no hesitation, Eduard bobbed his head in an affirmative.

Shocked, Karl asked, “Really? That’s…”

Eduard spared the older man half of a grin. “Yes, we’re interested. It’ll look good as part of our portfolio, and we like the news expertise you can share.” Just as Laird began spewing off details to tell Logan, Eduard cut him off by saying, “Actually, Roman, Y/N—can you guys do it? The two of you make quite a team. You and your… bum-boys here can come to Turkey tomorrow? Pitch to me and my Dad?”

You and Roman exchanged earnest glances, as if speaking to each other telepathically. You were sure you could push back your work at Waystar for a few days to settle the privatizing deal. 

“Absolutely. I think we can definitely do that,” said Rome, with a pleased hum. Then, he turned back to fix his gaze on Laird and Karl. “Ain’t that right, bum-boys?”

 “Why Turkey?” you asked, brows raising. “I mean, I can pitch to you anywhere, but why, you know, all the way across the ocean?”

“There’s an investing conference in Bursa. Everyone will be there—we can get into it. Unless you have any objections…?”

Hastily, you shook your head. “No, no. This is great. Thanks for the opportunity.”

“No problem,” said Eduard, watching the ball fly across the field, landing into the goal. “I like you guys. Really.”

The coach called for the team to huddle up, allowing for the owners to say a few words. A part of you wondered if Rome even remembered the name of the FC he had bought.

“Great session, guys. And listen, for Saturday, you have the ability, you have the mentality. Watch that press doesn’t leave you exposed on the turnover, and you fucking got this. Rome?” Eduard turned to your friend, who hadn’t really prepared anything to say.

Roman fixed you with a panicked look, but you nudged him forward with a purse of you lips.

Scratching the back of his head, he awkwardly started, “Uh, yeah, hey guys! Really proud to be associated with all of you. Uh, well, what the fuck can I tell you that you don’t already know? You, uh, you got all this guys, don’t worry about it. ‘Cause you guys are a team, and, uh, when a team… is a team… it can’t actually physically be beaten. It’s impossible. So, go hard, go fast—uh, go you… lovely bastards.” The team glanced at each other and began to awkwardly clap, before Rome looked to you and said, “Anything else you want to add?”

“Me?” you hissed under your breath. “Rome, I’m not an owner—”

“Just say something—!” he whispered back, yanking you forward by the arm.

Stiff, you waved at the litter of sweaty, jerseyed men in front of you. “Hi. Yeah, I’m sure you guys know I’m not one of the team’s owners, but I was there during the business negotiations as Roman’s, uh… co-partner. All I can do now is wish you all the best of luck for your next match—get some rest, eat some good food, keep your eyes on the prize. And if any of you want to get in touch with Waystar Royco for any sort of PR pitches to get your face out there… Coach will have me and Roman’s contact details.” With a smile, you stepped back, shoulder brushing against Roman’s.

“Fuck you,” he muttered bitterly. “Did you rehearse that in your head or something? How’d you manage to perfectly squeeze business into a fucking pep talk?”

You grinned and pinched his cheek lightly. “Go hard and go fast, you lovely bastard,” you mocked, voice rife with fondness, chortling when he swatted your hand away.

Before you knew it, you and Roman (and the bum-boys) were in Turkey, pitching to Eduard and his team. You had tried practicing a little the night before, but Roman had tossed all the flashcards away out of part-frustration and part-cockiness, assuring you that things would be fine. 

Now, as he was speaking, he seemed pretty confident in his own words. The two of you made a good team, after all.

“Look at the cash flow,” said Roman. “We are undervalued. I think tech just had everybody shitting their pants about legacy media, but really, the wheel turns.”

You nodded with an emphatic smile. “It’s true. No matter how much content moves to streaming sites, people will always want to look for something physical. Something you can feel and experience outside of home—hence Waystar’s adventure parks, and films to experience in theaters.” You made great effort to skirt around the touchy subject of cruises at the moment. 

“Most tech is overvalued. We’re profitable. We’re real money,” Roman added, growing more assured of himself with your support. 

“Tech is always changing. Invest in one thing, and it’ll be outdated in a blink of an eye. Invest in things people will always need: news, broadcasting, life experiences… now that’s reliable.” Eduard flashed you a smile, as if he was already sold.

“This is a tremendous opportunity,” said Rome. “This is once in a lifetime. You get to buy into the US media landscape at the very top. The very top.”

Two of the men leaned forward to whisper indistinctly to one another. 

“It’s a lot of debt,” one of them said once he finally pulled away. “You sure you can pull it together?”

“Absolutely sure,” Roman said with a mild laugh, knowing things with money and debt were quite rocky at the moment, before pointing back at Laird. “Jaime here is the fucking master of leverage. He has structured some of the biggest LBOs in history.”

“Guilty as charged,” said the older man.

Before anyone could say anything else, the doors to the room opened, and a few men filed in, murmuring indistinctly to the security. Your brows pulled together upon seeing guns strapped to their forms.

Roman exchanged a worried look with you.

“Are they, uh… are they with you?” he asked Eduard, who got up off his seat to speak to them in hushed tones.

“Rome, they have guns,” you murmured as you placed a hand on his forearm, glancing back at Karl and Laird. “What’s going on?”

The atmosphere seemed to chill when Eduard turned back to the four of you.

“Hey, look, we’re good. We’re good. But, uh… we’re all gonna go with these gentlemen now, okay?” He raised his hands in an almost placating manner, as if trying to tame a nervous mare. 

 Roman pointed at the armed men. “We’re going with them?” He laughed nervously, wondering if this was one big, elaborate joke. “Uh, no… I don’t think we—uh, who are these guys, exactly?”

Genuine fear began to curdle in your stomach when you watched the security walk out. “Dave just walked out. Hey, Eduard? I just—I need you to be honest with me. Are we in danger right now?”

Eduard worked his jaw in thought. “We’re just going to go with them now. Okay? It’ll be fine.”

“No, uh, I just—Can I just ask what this is in regards to?” Roman stepped in, high-strung. “Is this about the meeting? Is this a business thing?” 

Did I fuck it up and put a loaded gun to my own head? he wanted to say, but bit his tongue before he could.

With a sharp tone, you asked, “Our security guy, Dave, he just walked out with them. Where’d he go? Is he coming back?”

“Dave’s not coming,” said Eduard with pursed lips.

“He’s not coming?” Roman parroted. “Uhm… I would actually really like for Dave to come?”

“Dave is downstairs, we’ll go without him,” Eduard said in a calm tone. “Dave is a security risk. It’s better with these guys, okay?”

“Well, I know Dave, and I sure as hell don’t know these guys so… I think I’d prefer Dave—” you began to say, but was quickly cut off when Eduard put a hand on your shoulder and began leading your tense form out the room, Roman hot on your heels.

“It’s all good. It’s all under control,” Eduard murmured, though you highly doubted it. “There could be a situation, but we’re being looked after.”

A frown crossed Roman’s expression. “Oh, great. We’re being looked after. Fucking great. Laird—can you call Dave?”

They pulled out their phones, but the vested men with guns took the devices away just as quickly as it was pulled out. One stood in front of you with an expectant expression, and you complied with no resistance, handing him your phone, though not without a scowl.

“Great. They took my phone, and now I can’t contact my security, and now we’re going to die,” Roman said. When you looked at him, you could see genuine, restless fear dance over his irises. You didn’t quite know what to say, so you simply squeezed his arm as the two of you walked along.

The armed men led all of you to a crowded hotel lobby, where there seemed to be more hostages, more armed folk in similar attire. 

“Fuck,” Roman mumbled under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t business, is it?”

“Doesn’t look very business-y,” replied Karl.

When someone passed by and their gun brushed against your arm, you flinched back into Roman, your lips pulling back in a snarl. “Eduard. Fuck—Eduard, where the fuck are you taking us?”

“Just relax. This is normal,” he said, shiftily.

Roman scoffed. “Oh, yeah. This feels really fucking normal. Is this—are these guys terrorists? Where’s my fucking security guy? Where’s Dave?”

For a moment, Eduard seemed at a loss for words. You could feel dread pile up in your stomach. “It’s just… it’s an administrative action function,” he reluctantly said.

“Mm, yeah, great, and what exactly is that—?” Roman began to ask, before halting his own question when he trained his gaze on a struggle across the lobby. “Oh, wow, look at that. Guy not being allowed to leave the hotel at gunpoint. That’s—uh, yeah. So what’s… what’s this administrative action function?”

Pursing his lips, Eduard finally fessed up, “There’s just a gathering here now, of us and some other investors, and—”

“Men with guns?” Roman impatiently chirped.

“Yeah, yeah, that, and their guys are some kind of… anti-corruption kind of guys and this is like—it’s like their conference. Or, uh, a party of some sort. And we’re all invited.”

Your eye twitched. “That’s really lovely, but uh, what if I don’t want to go?”

A scream from somewhere over the crowd echoed through the lobby. Glass shattering followed soon after. Karl paled and he anxiously picked at a hangnail.

Eduard sighed. “It’s the kind of party where you have to go. It would be… rude.”

Roman stared at the ground, at nothing in particular. “Well, uh, I guess I wouldn’t mind being just a tiny bit rude.”

It was becoming more and more clear that no amount of protests or questions would get you out of this situation—not with every exit manned by armed personnel. The hostages in the hotel were soon herded into a large hall, empty save for bare white chairs for people to sit on. Eduard was led into a different room, and you briefly wondered if that’d be the last time you ever saw him.

You blew out a breath as you took a seat. Roman was quick to snare Laird into playing a multitude of games, like rock, paper, scissors, eye spy, and fuck, marry, kill. You didn’t pay much attention to them, instead trying to figure out what you’d do with yourself once you got out of this situation. One thing was for sure: your therapist was going to have a field day hearing this. 

“Where do you think they’re taking them?” you asked the men beside you when they began grabbing hostages and shoving them out the doors. 

“Doesn’t look like they’re gonna be taking a tour of the spa,” said Laird.

“My advice,” Karl huffed, looking awfully sweaty, “just don’t look at anything. If you don’t look, you’re not a witness.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Wonderful. Brilliant advice, Karl. At least you didn’t tell me to just take it if they decided to shove their dicks into my mouth.”

“Woah!” exclaimed Roman, eyes widening. “That’s not going to happen. Right? That can’t happen.”

You spared him a shrug, slumping back against the chair. Though, you were quick to sit up straight again when Eduard emerged from the doors, making a bee-line for you and Roman.

“Hey, guys. It’s all good. Things are good. So, uh, my president’s daughter’s husband has asked him to take closer control of some key assets. It’s anti-corruption, but it’s a bit of a power-grab. Some Turkish acquiescence, but it’s all in play.”

If you had to be honest, you understood very little of what he was saying. Whether it was because of your panic-hazed mind, or because he was merely being ambiguous, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Not to, uh, make this all about us…” began Roman, tentative, “but are they going to shoot us at any point?”

“No one is getting shot,” assured the bearded man. “Look, it’s complicated, but with the Zeynal here—there’s some interest about the deal.”

Deal? 

Both you and Roman glanced at each other. 

“Uh, fuck. Okay. The deal, sure,” said Rome.

“One thing they wanted clarity on was—how could they be sure the deal wouldn’t be blocked by your government?” Eduard asked.

You stuck your tongue against your cheek when Roman shook his head, “Well, it wouldn’t. My father has a lot of sway. I mean, he can’t lock up his opponents in a hotel, but, well, he kinda could.”

“And you’re the target of another bid? Won’t that be a problem?”

Sandy and Stewy. “Not a problem,” you quickly said. “They’re all bark, very little bite. If the price is right, we can easily reach a settlement before the shareholder meeting.”

With a nod, Eduard patted your knee, and he got up to leave—talk to his associates once more. 

“That went well,” said Laird, mildly surprised. 

“Yeah… a little too well,” Roman mused.

Hours later, Eduard returned, calling for the four of you to follow him.

It was a pitch. A messy pitch—one you clearly weren’t in the right mindspace for. One where the audience had clear smudges of coke lining their nostrils, dusting their tables. One that had a lot of money thrown into the empty promises, accompanied by high smiles and wandering eyes. It made you feel sick, and Roman clearly wasn’t a fan of it, either. Laird seemed to be satisfied with the mutual agreements, though. He heard money, and he immediately thought he was safe.

But the agreements didn’t feel quite real. None of it felt real. It was all bullshit, you wanted to yell at their face. Being held at gunpoint to play business in front of the coked out billionaires was not your preferred method of saving the company, especially when none of the settlements felt cemented. This wasn’t safe money to bet the entire company on—it might’ve not been money at all, in fact.

By the end of everything, the ambassador had arranged for a plane to finally get you out of the country. You fell asleep as soon as you sat down in your seat, the long hours going without sleep finally catching up to you. Roman curled up in the seat beside you, his head on your shoulder. He stayed awake the entire flight, listening to your steady breaths.

The Mediterranean. The Roys were on a fancy yacht in the Mediterranean.

It would’ve sounded like a pleasant getaway, if you weren’t dead-tired, having just returned from being held hostage at gunpoint. You just wanted to go home. Logan, however, wanted you and Rome by his side—and who were you to say no to the top dog?

As the speedboat skidded to a stop by the yacht, cheers erupted from siblings, along with Gerri and Frank, Greg and Tom. Roman slid his sunglasses on as he clambered onto the larger boat’s deck. 

“Here they are! The heroes of Asia!” exclaimed Shiv, a flute of champagne in hand. She was the first to greet you, taking your hand and helping you out of the speedboat. After a kiss to your cheek, you spared her an exhausted smile.

“The lions of Turkey! Welcome back, guys!” chimed Greg. He leaned down to embrace his cousin, but Roman was quick to push his face away. Greg didn’t dare try to hug you after that, merely waving from afar.

Frank clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Back like Odysseus. Did you guys ride out on sheep?”

Snorting, Shiv added, “Yeah, I heard you took down an entire army alone, bro.”

“That would’ve been really traumatizing if you weren’t already so fucked up,” Gerri told Roman, who simply frowned.

“Yeah, who’d you suck off to get out?” Kendall inserted.

Tom smiled widely from behind Shiv. “You were staying at Four Seasons, right? How did you guys escape? Did you—did you build a glider out of a caesar salad?”

Roman squinted at nothing in particular from behind the dark lens of his sunglasses. “Uh, you know what? It was actually fucking scary and we thought they might kill us, but yeah…” The tips of his fingers wiggled in a poor rendition of jazz hands. “Hardee-har-har, caesar salads, har-har. So funny.”

An awkward silence ensued between the small group. You scritched at your neck with a wince, wanting nothing more than a shower and a nap.

“Sorry, dude. Seriously,” said Kendall.

Roman snorted. “Yeah, no. They just raped me a little, but I’m no hero. They stuck their cocks down Y/N’s throat, too. Tell them.”

He nudged you and you shook your head tiredly. “They didn’t do that.”

“See? It got so bad that she trauma-blocked the memories. Shame on all of you,” he said, propping his fists on his hips. 

Feeling mildly guilty, Shiv had the gall to rub her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Sorry, Rome.”

“It’s fine. I’m just tired, or whatever. It was funny, actually. Karl almost shat in a bucket and I have it on my phone, so we can fully humiliate him in our daily jerkfest later,” said Rome, tugging you to sit down with him on a large white seat.

“So how’d it all go, business-wise?” Connor asked, eyeing the both of you curiously. “Or was that forgotten?”

Before either of you could say anything, Laird stepped in, shaking his head with a wide smile. “Oh, we can’t say anything about that. Confidential stuff. But they—they did good.”

“Oh! Okay. Promising!” Connor exclaimed, shooting the both of you a grin. “Congrats, you guys.”

Unease crackled between the two of you. When you locked gazes with Roman, he merely lifted one of his shoulders in a shrug, lips pursed. The deal probably wouldn’t go through. It was all empty promises, powdered with a layer of cocaine. 

The two of you failed. And maybe that was okay.

Your hand found his, and his head knocked against yours. He drank the beer Shiv handed him, and you drank in the salty air of the sea.

After you’d finally managed to pry yourself away from Roman (or, more accurately, Roman away from you), you had yourself a nice, hot shower, and a long-overdue nap. When you drowsily blinked back into consciousness, it was early afternoon, the sun still high up in the cloudless sky. A part of you wondered how you hadn’t just slept through the entire day.

You cleaned yourself up and changed into loose loungewear, heading down a story of the yacht, where you caught sight of the Roy siblings hanging by the pool (minus Connor, who was discussing matters of the play).

Roman waved at you limply. “Hey, sleeping beauty. You were knocked out for a while. I poked you in all your ticklish spots and you didn’t even stir.”

With a sigh, you curled yourself up into the cushioned spot beside him, Shiv on your other side. On her right was Tom, who had his gaze trained on Greg on the other side of the pool—the Roy’s cousin was… getting his toes looked at by the medic? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t quite want to know.

“You know, if you snuck into my room while I’m asleep and prodded me like a corpse, at least don’t fess up to it. You weirdo,” you said once you finally tore your gaze away from Greg, wrinkling your nose at Rome fondly.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” Roman whistled, to which Shiv let out a loud groan of complaint. 

Sloshing water from the pool drew your attention to Kendall. “You good, Y/N? Sorry about—if I was, like, insensitive earlier—”

“It’s fine,” you quickly replied. “They were never going to shoot us, anyway. It was all just… theatrics.”

Theatrics. Puppets and strings.

Kendall smiled loosely. 

“So, uh, how was DC?” you asked the older man as he leaned against the rim of the pool. “They had it on the TV for a bit when we were waiting to give our pitch.”

He nodded, water dripping from his hair. “Yeah, it was—it was pretty fucking real.”

“You did good,” Roman chirped, adjusting the sunglasses on his nose. 

Scoffing, Kendall shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. And what? I did good for—for a crackhead? For a moron on crack?” His voice was lilting with incredulity.

“Nope. You did good, Ken,” he said.

Shiv nodded. “Yeah. You killed it.”

Kendall wasn’t used to genuine praise from his siblings. It was usually edged with an insult, laced with sarcasm or ire. 

“It was Tom that, uh… that didn’t really persuade everyone quite as well,” you said, sending an apologetic grimace to Shiv’s fiance.

“You’re being too nice. He shat his pants and puked all over the floor,” Roman huffed with an amused smile. 

Tom pulled a cross face. “I didn’t—!” He drew in a sharp breath. “You know, a lot of people are saying I was deadcatting. Yeah. So like—dead cat on the table. Everyone’s looking at this dead cat, and not… not talking about your dad.”

Shiv pursed her lips. “Right. Sure, yeah, you drew the fire. Yeah.”

Both you and Roman exchanged humored looks. 

“So, what’s going on with Rhea? She’s out, right?” Roman asked a beat later.

“Mhm. Melted. But she’s agreed not to say anything publicly until after the shareholder meeting,” said Shiv.

You briefly wondered why she backed away, but chalked it up to immense financial risk and potential ethical demise of her career. Good for her. 

“Instead of Rhea, whose big hairy foot is going to slip into the glass slipper?” Roman queried. “Washington Ken here?”

His older brother clambered out of the pool, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. “Me? Uh, no. Nope. I mean—Rome, you brought the golden goose home.”

The two of you frowned at the same time. Roman let out a loud sigh.

“Could be anyone,” you said. “We’re right back to square one.”

“Yeah. Could be. I mean, why is Greg here?” Kendall shot a look over his shoulder to glance at his cousin, peering between his own toes.

Roman snorted. “I always ask that question.” Then, he patted your thigh and leaned against you, enjoying the warmth of your skin against his. “I did think—you know, when I thought they were going to vacuum out my innards and fill me with concrete or something—like… if we come through this, is there a thing where we, like, talk to each other about stuff? Normally?”

In a strange alien-baby voice, Shiv mocked, “You wanna twalk to each other nwormally?”

Kendall snickered and tacked on, “You wanna twalk abwout the big shit?”

“Yeah, let’s twalk abwout the big shit!”

“We can talk about—our feewings!”

The siblings joking around for a rare moment reminded you of when you were all younger, with missing teeth and scraped knees. When Shiv’s hair would still be done up in a ponytail and yours would be twisted into pigtails. Simpler times—when things weren’t all that simple but you, in your blissful ignorance, had thought they were. 

Though you really didn’t want to laugh, you tried your best to smother down a chuckle, making Roman send you a betrayed glare. 

“Wow. Really? You, too?” He lightly shoved you away, and you and Shiv burst into a fit of giggles when you knocked into her. “How am I the most mature one here?”

“Sowwy, Wome,” you crooned in the same alien-baby voice. He kicked at your foot, then hooked his leg over yours.

The laughter dulled away when the whirring of helicopter blades descended over the yacht.

Logan was here.

“Emotional gunship incoming,” said Kendall.

“Yeah. Send out the distress signal,” Shiv added, the smile on her lips fading away as she looked up to see her father fly down. “We’re under attack.”

Logan was smiling. It wasn’t often that he smiled. 

He greeted you with a chaste kiss to the cheek, and Roman with a pat to the shoulder. It was warm in the light—brief, but warm nonetheless.

When he hoarded the two of you, along with bum-boys Laird and Karl into a separate room, he immediately asked, “Are you two alright? I heard it got a bit tasty.”

Tasty wasn’t exactly the right word for it, you thought. 

“Mmh, we’re fine. I’ve had worse experiences at hotels before,” Roman languidly commented, shrugging it off. 

Logan tilted his head. “Did they look after you? I spoke to the White House.”

“Someone came and told us there was a warship,” you said, pursing your lips. “Felt a bit extreme.”

“Knowing us gun-handy Americans, I bet it was already there,” Roman snorted, pouring himself a drink. “The ambassador took us for a shitty lunch—you know, sorry that you were held at gunpoint, have a cheese sandwich.”

Logan gestured for all of you to take a seat. “So… on the money. What’s the situation?”

“The kids did great,” said Laird, which made Roman audibly gag. “I think, Mr. Roy, you’ll be able to go private. Eduard and his father have titular responsibility for the sovereign wealth but the president’s daughter’s husband, Zeynal, is the key guy now. The two of ‘em killed it with him.”

Shrugging, Roman said, “Well, it was clear Eduard was getting sidelined. Zeynal figured out who we were, and I thought we were gonna be taken to get a fucking chainsaw massage but… nope. We had an hour, we pitched hard, and they said they wanted in.”

“Too modest,” Laird emphasized, brows raising. “This is the perfect opportunity.”

It wasn’t. It never was.

Karl went on to talk about the numbers, and Logan seemed quite pleased. 

“That’s great. That’s fucking fantastic!” announced Roman’s father.

Rome bit down on the inside of his cheek. He winced, and scratched at his head.

“I just… I do have to say one thing, dad…”

Panic flashed across Laird’s eyes. “Roman, we’re good.”

Ignoring him, Roman said, “I mean, we had a good talk with Zeynal and he said, with his mouth, that he wanted in and that’s great and all… but if this is really serious for us, I think I actually do have to say that it feels like it’s… probably horseshit.”

A beat of silence.

Laird’s eyes twitched.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Yeah, I just wanna make it clear that they said they wanted in, but didn’t sign anything yet. I mean, it’s not like we had any documents on hand but… words mean nothing. Uncle Logan, I don’t know if it’s… really smart to bank the entire future of the company on words of drug-addled men taking a piss out of you.”

Logan’s brows raised.

“It was flaky,” Roman added. “There was a lot of shit going on.”

The head man glanced at Karl, who remained deathly quiet, and then back to you. 

“Roman, they want to rebalance their portfolio for, uh, for a variety of geopolitical reasons,” began Laird. “It’s very European-focused, and he wants to tilt Western Hemisphere. It’s all very logical! I know that it’s a lot of money, and that can be very scary, but it makes sense.”

“All due respect, Laird, but I really don’t think they give a shit about adding us to their portfolio,” you said, voice hesitant. “They know we’re in debt. They know we’re in hot water with a large sector of the company. Why would they want in at all, much less hand over a ten billion dollar investment like it’s nothing?”

Roman sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry that we’re worrying our pretty little heads, Laird, but if they’re rebalancing their portfolio, it’d be fucking insane to do it over one ten-bil mega deal like it’s nothing.”

“Yeah, it’d be more sensible that they invest into several different markets around the globe,” you agreed. “None of this feels right.”

“It doesn’t matter what it feels like,” stressed Laird. “They said yes!”

With a frown, Roman retorted back, “Maybe, sure, they said yes! And there’s a ten or twenty percent chance that you’d make, like, a hundred million bucks with this deal. That’s so exciting! But if we miss, we could be fucked.”

Logan’s expression was hard to read. Anger? Disbelief? Disappointment? Acceptance? You couldn’t quite tell.

Swallowing hard, you said, “If we go through with this and none of it turns out to be real, we’d go straight over the edge. No votes, no political gain, no money.”

Finally, Logan murmured, “If it falls halfway through, it’d be terminal.”

A vein popped out on Laird’s head. “But if it works… just one step forward, and you’d be free.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Free from what? Just because we go private doesn’t mean we can do fuck all.”

Before Laird could argue back, Logan fixed his stare onto Roman. “Son?” he asked.

“Dad, I have to say, I’ve done a little bullshitting in my time—and Zenyal was a cokey, lying, 3 AM scotch and see-you-in-the-morning man. He won’t follow through.”

With a frustrated groan, Laird angrily got up from his seat.

Roman shook his head. “Dad, I wish it was real. I really fucking do. But it’s not—and we have to step away.”

When Logan turned his stare onto you, you nodded in agreement with Roman. 

“Karl?” your godfather asked.

The man buckled under the scrutiny. “You can’t lean on this,” he said. “Not now.”

His mind finally made, Logan got up onto his feet. “I’m sorry, Jaime. Keep exploring, keep talking. I cannot pile my chips on something that isn’t solid.”

“Excellent,” sighed Jaime. He looked at you, then at Roman. “You wanna talk solid? Maybe take a look at your kid there. Does he sound solid to you? And—thanks for the support, Karl. I hope you enjoy the king’s favors, because you know what you’re looking at if you don’t go private. Someone has to pay the price. Someone is going to go to jail, and I won’t be around to see it.”

With that, he dramatically took his leave. Roman tilted his head back and rolled his eyes.

“I wanna do the best thing. The most decent thing,” said Logan. His hand was on your shoulder for a moment, before he pulled away. “Tomorrow we’ll get into a discussion about our missteps and how we can indicate how sorry we are to the rest of the world. Get some rest, the both of you.”

As you clambered into bed, Roman unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it somewhere behind him. He’d followed you into the cabin, claiming that there were no available cabins left—and you knew he was lying, because you’d passed by several empty rooms on the way to yours, but you didn’t bother to protest.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“You know, I overheard Tom and Shiv speaking to each other,” you said as you fluffed up a pillow to lay on. 

“Ooh. Is Tom the one getting shitcanned? No surprise there,” Roman replied, crawling next to you and laid down on his stomach, head resting on his crossed arms. 

“No. I mean, I don’t actually know who it’ll be, but—” You paused to smile, near-childish laughter falling from your lips. “I heard Tom saying he was excited for a threesome.”

“Ew! What? Ew! Tell me more,” Roman exclaimed, swatting at your arms and you shoved him back, laughing at his tone. “Oh, that’s so gross. Never pegged Tom as the type.”

“I don’t think it was Tom’s idea.”

“Ew!”

The two of you giggled about it some more, before you lolled your head over to face him. 

“Do you think it could be me?” you quietly asked. “Would Logan throw me to the sharks?”

Roman hummed. “Sometimes it feels like he likes you better than any of his own fucking kids. You’re not getting canned. It won’t make sense.”

“Hm.”

He threw an arm over your stomach. “But… it won’t be me, right?”

“I don’t know, Rome,” you told him honestly. “After today… I just don’t know. But I’ve got your back.”

The two of you basked in the comfort of each other’s quiet for a brief moment. You scooched closer to him and shut your eyes.

“You’re a really good friend, Rome.”

Something akin to an amused snort fell from his lips. “Pfft. Friend. I don’t think friends jerk off to the sound of each other’s voices. You’ve had your hand on my dick. Is that what friends do these days?”

“Friends with benefits, then.”

He brushed his lips along your shoulder, light as a feather, barely there. There was a strange ache in his chest. An ache that you also felt. The two of you ached together, unknowingly. 

“Hm. I like the sound of that. It’s like you’re my personal whore.”

“It’s a two-way street.”

“Yeah. You fuck me, I fuck you. You kill me, I kill you. Like they do in Germany.”

There it was again. What was with Roman and Germany?

“Sure. Like they do in Germany.”

It was hard to stomach breakfast with your restless nerves shooting adrenaline through your veins. You anxiously plowed through two apples and started on your third just when Logan stepped onto the lower level. Everybody’s attention piqued, their heads turning, postures stiffening up against the chairs around the dining table. 

When Gerri tentatively asked him who he had in mind as the sacrificial lamb, Logan waved her away.

“Enough. We stick together, alright? Most things don’t exist. The Ford motor company hardly exists—it’s just a time-saving expression for a collection of financial interests. But this exists, because…”

Roman leaned in close to mockingly whisper, “Family.”

“Family,” Logan finished. “We are a family. And so that’s why I think… I think the obvious choice is me.”

A ripple of shock coursed through the small group. Your eyes narrowed, unsure of what game Logan was playing at now.

“No,” Shiv vehemently said. “What? Dad, you—you can’t.”

Logan tilted his head. It wasn’t often he was told that he couldn’t. “Well, I may not be responsible, but the buck has to stop somewhere.”

The rest of the group erupted in protests. Tom, Kendall, Frank. They were all bleating sheep. Roman rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t work,” Kendall elaborated. “When people find out Rhea isn’t coming in, we’d need stability. From you.”

Logan raised a single finger. “I need one meaningful skull to wave.” Wave didn’t seem quite the appropriate term. Chop off, maybe. Sever was a good one. “If the shareholders’ meeting was tomorrow, we lose. I need to persuade a number of big figures. So… would anyone like to say anything?”

Crackling silence. Across the table, Greg popped a fat green grape into his mouth.

“I’ll take care of whoever it is,” said Logan. “No one will be forgotten.”

Clearing his throat, Kendall ventured out, “Well, I mean, if we’re doing this, I don’t wanna spread shit around. We’re all loyal servants here. But, uh, I say this without malice aforethought, presumably, uhm, general counsel is the center of the web. Sorry, Gerri. I like you, I do.”

Logan reached out to put his hand over the blonde woman’s. “There is no one more loyal than Gerri,” he said, effectively dismissing the idea.

But you saw right through him. It wasn’t about Gerri’s loyalty. She wasn’t a big enough cut. 

“What about Frank?” Roman offered. Everyone was well aware of his disdain for the older man. “How come Frank is even here today?”

Full of ire, Logan’s old friend nodded his head. “Thanks, Roman. I see it. I could take it. I mean, I make sense.”

“Yeah. And after what he did to you? The whole boardroom coup?” Roman lifted a shoulder, convinced that Frank was the most obvious choice.

“Water under the bridge.” Logan brushed away once more. Still not big enough.

After a long while of stammering, Frank finally coughed out, “I would say objectively, considering my, uh, my indiscretion against the family makes me a less compelling sacrifice. Unlike—uhm, for instance, a loyal servant like Karl.”

Instead of defending himself, Karl decided to turn the blade right back around to Gerri. “My thing is, I guess, if Rhea is no more, then sadly, we’re back to having Gerri as named successor. So that fattens her up for the kill, in my opinion.”

“Everyone knows I was just a name on a piece of paper,” defended the woman, laughing incredulously.

“Oh, don’t put yourself down. I think you were always more than that,” scoffed Karl. “And, you know, the old copy book is a bit blotty. Expense accounts… daughter’s first class on the company coin…”

“Karl sounds good!” Tom chimed in. “Sausage thief,” he bitterly muttered, in reference to the entire Boar on the Floor debacle in Hungary.

“Gerri is theoretically kind of perfect,” said Connor.

“No,” Roman was quick to protest. “Nope. That’s bullshit. I disagree.”

Propping his joined hands on the table, Logan asked, “Why?”

“Why? Because that’s my opinion,” Roman said in a defensive manner.

“Yeah… but your reasoning?”

With a hasty glance to you, Roman hastily spun out, “Seriously, Gerri? To pay for cruises? We, what, we take out our senior woman? Haven’t we, you know—kidding, here, but—killed enough women already?”

“It’d look orchestrated. Gerri is just too obvious,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Sexual misconduct cases three decades ago, and we’d be placing the blame on general counsel and simply wiping our hands clean? Not to mention it’d just make Waystar look more… anti-women if we went down that route.”

Roman nodded. “Listen, I think the obvious choice here is, and I hate to say it because he’s such a swell guy, but—” he made a whistling noise and pointed to the man sitting across from him, “Tom.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you're the head of cruises, man.”

Kendall pursed his lips. “I gotta agree with Rome here. Tom, I fucking love you dude, but you shat the bed over Mo Lester.”

“But I was sent in there as the fucking beating man—I took the fucking beating!” 

Shiv shook the back of her head, making no effort to defend her husband.

“You got suckered in by Eavis,” said Kendall.

“I answered the questions!”

“You don’t answer the questions. Okay? That’s, like, rule one.” Kendall patted his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I’m not beating up on you here, I’m just saying that he got a win off you and you’re kinda the face of this now.”

Lifting her head up high, Shiv said, “Tom looks logical. Cruises, document destruction. It’d be laid out for us.”

Tom’s gaze swiveled to his wife, expression utterly torn. “What?” he croaked out.

“I’m not saying you should be,” the red-head defended. “But I’m just saying you’re like family, but you’re not… actually family, which is also good. Tom, it’s the elephant in the room. We can say that!”

“No, we can’t! There’s absolutely no need to speak of the elephant in the room! There’s fifteen other fucking elephants in this room!” With an angry scoff, Tom threw both his hands up. “If you want someone who’s family but not family, what about Y/N?”

Immediately, Roman let out a high-pitched, “No! Why would it—why the fuck should it be her?”

Tom’s face contorted under the scrutiny. “I don’t know. General manager of Waystar, and goddaughter to Logan sounds like a good fucking steak to throw to the lions.” At your confused expression, Tom quickly backed down. “I’m not actually saying Y/N. I’m just saying things! It just—it shouldn’t be me. What about you, huh, Shiv?”

“Okay, fine. How do I work?” she hissed out. 

“I don’t know!” Tom exclaimed, his voice raising a few notches in volume.

Gerri pursed her lips to the side and mentioned, “I mean, if we’re saying Shiv, we could highlight witness tampering and, uh, that she was going to take over but—I don’t know, it probably wouldn’t work.”

Shiv reared back as if she’d been stung. “Uh, yeah. Too fucking right it wouldn’t work. I don’t make sense, I’ve never been inside.”

“What about both of them? Shiv and Tom? Beauty and the beast,” Roman said.

“Does Tom work?” Logan asked. “Alone?”

A long beat of silence. 

In all honesty, you thought he’d work. The missing documents were more than enough to go off of. 

But Kendall shook his head, and it flew right out the window. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s a big enough skull. No offense.”

“Then how about Tom with some fucking… Greg sprinkles?” Roman asked, gesturing to his cousin, who’d managed to polish off all the grapes on the tray. One of the workers floated by to take the tray away, no doubt to fill it back up again.

“Greg sprinkles?” parroted Greg.

Wincing, you apologetically added, “I mean, you did destroy those documents for Tom, no? It’s—it's an aided crime. It works.”

Connor laughed. “Elmo and Big Bird. I could start to see that, yeah. You could throw in a Karl or a Frank, and you’re golden.”

“What—what precisely are Greg sprinkles?” asked the Roy cousin.

“Greg sprinkles are basically a fantastic garnish for practically anyone seated at this table,” Roman replied with a faux warm smile. “Like a Tom sundae with a little Greg cherry on top.” He popped his lips and Greg frowned.

“No, I object. I do. I mean—I’m more than a sprinkle! What about you, huh? What about Roman?”

“Roman?” you asked, cocking a brow. “How would he be a good candidate?”

“Well, he’s widely known as a terrible person!”

Roman snorted. “Thanks, Toe Jam.”

“There’s another elephant in the room,” Connor interrupted. “What about I just throw myself over the side, huh?”

Shiv laughed quietly, hiding her smile behind her palm.

“Yeah, just—in return for a payout. I’m cash strapped, so just lock me into that sweet, sweet golden parachute and toss me in the volcano!” said the oldest Roy sibling. On he blathered, about how he should be the one to take the fall.

Logan glanced around. “That’s… that’s kind of you, Con. Thank you. We’ll bear it in mind.” He smiled, but it wasn’t quite authentic. It wasn’t real. Connor slumped back, going largely ignored once again.

With that, Logan stood up. “We have half an idea but… yeah. Let’s do this later.”

Off he went, through the glass doors, gone to God knows where.

You and Roman exchanged a look. His was one of relief and gratitude, yours was one of exasperation. Then, Roman leaned forward to snatch the tray of grapes away from Greg, and offered a branch of the plump green fruits to you. 

Dinner left a stale taste in your mouth. Maybe it was because you weren’t particularly fond of the served courses. Maybe it was because of the rocking motions of the boat upsetting your stomach. Or maybe—maybe it was because Logan had finally chosen his sacrificial lamb.

Kendall stood beside his father with pursed lips. Logan nodded to the sitting group. “I’ve decided,” he simply said.

Incredulity danced across Roman’s expression, brows raised. “Ken?” he asked. “Come on, really? Dad, you—no. There’s… what about the… one of the other shitfuckers?”

Your eyes darted from your godfather, to Kendall, who took a seat across from you. He met your eyes, if only for a brief moment. A part of you felt bad for him—after all, to you he was always going to be the eight-year-old boy draped in a suit far too large for him, practicing a speech in front of the mirror for a nameless award he was going to accept one day. He’d make you and Roman sit down and listen to him, four and five years of age, expectantly turning to the two of you after he was done and asking if it sounded okay. Desperate for approval, even if the assurance came from two young kids with missing teeth and bored eyes.

He was practically your brother. You averted your gaze with mild shame burning within your chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” said Kendall. He looked around the table. “You’re all off the hook.”

Roman leaned forward and asked, uncharacteristically genuine, “You okay?”

Wordless, Kendall nodded. He was trying his best to stave away the frown tugging at the corners of his lips. There were tears warbling over his irises. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good.” 

But he wasn’t. Roman knew, and you knew, too.

Karl cleared his throat. “Is it just… I don’t wanna be rude here—is it just him?”

Gerri tilted her head. “First—uh, second-born son—with his responsibilities, it wouldn’t be a hard sell.”

“Roman,” said Logan. “You’re taking over as full chief operating officer.”

An indignant noise fell from his throat. “Yeah? What with Captain Cautious back in the other room?” 

“No, no. Frank’s going to be responsible for the cruises clean up. You’re on your own. Solo.” Logan stared at his youngest son. “Can you handle it?”

Beneath the table, Roman’s jostling knee bumped into yours. “Yeah,” he unenthusiastically said. “That’s really exciting.”

Kendall spared his little brother a lopsided smile. “No, Rome. It’s great. For real.” Then, he raised a fork. “Eat up, guys. This one’s on me.”

Day three on the boat. You woke up to Roman’s arms wrapped around your midriff, his face buried in the fabric over your chest. He sleepily mumbled and whined when you dragged yourself (and, effectively, him as well, seeing as he refused to let go of you) out of bed. The two of you brushed your teeth together before you promptly kicked him out of your room so you could take a quick shower in peace.

By the time the both of you got down to have breakfast, Greg was the one to tell you that Kendall had left earlier in the morning. 

“Right to his slaughter,” you mumbled to Rome, who’s face twisted with guilt.

An hour later, you were watching Kendall on the television. Shiv and Logan were on the couches, and Roman had both his hands resting on your shoulders, kneading your muscles as if you were a stress ball.

“I have been asked to explain my role in the management of illegality at the firm and associated cover ups. And it has been suggested that I would be a suitable figure to absorb the anger and concern,” said screen Kendall. To your surprise, his words were followed by, “But…”

You and Roman exchanged glances. He stopped working at your shoulders and crossed his arms. 

“The truth is that my father is a malignant presence. He is a liar, a bully, and was fully aware of the events that had transpired on the cruise ships for many years, and made efforts to hide and cover up. He had a twisted sense of loyalty to bad actors like Lester McClintock, and a disregard for the safety of migrant workers, union and non-union workers, along with vulnerable performers and guests.”

“Fuck me,” Roman whispered. Logan silently lifted a finger to his lips to shush him.

The Kendall on screen was vastly different to the puppet Kendall you’d come to know for the past few months. He’d finally broken free of his strings.

“My father keeps a watchful eye over his entire empire, and the notion that he would have allowed millions of dollars of settlements and compensation to be paid without his explicit approval is utterly fanciful. I have with me today copies of records that show his personal sign-off. How much those of us who executed his wishes bear responsibility is for another day.” 

Shiv briefly twisted around to shoot you an utterly dumbfounded look, as if to ask you if you’d known he was going to do this. You sent her an equally befuddled expression.

“But I think…” said Kendall, “This is the day his reign ends.”

With that, Kendall got up and walked off to the side, out of the camera’s view. You couldn’t see it, for Logan was facing the screen, but there was a slight smile on your godfather’s face.

[senselessviolets]

“dream a little dream of me”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

EXTREMELY dubious consent, somnophilia (reader is in and out of sleep), sleep/drunk sex (both Roman and Reader are drunk but Roman is more active/the one initiating during encounter), smut, alcohol, language, implied Roman eating disorder, erectile dysfunction mention, pervert!Roman, needy Roman, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

A oneshot by @cum-a-calla opened my eyes recently and I realized “Roman + somno” might be my peanut butter & jelly. Like wow. What a concept.  Jokes aside, this fic is dark so PLEASE be wary of the warnings above. <3 

Summary:

Post-S4, Roman and Reader begin to date after working at Waystar Studios together. While they bond and flirt more and more, he continues to keep her at bay. One night, the two get extremely drunk at his apartment and suffice it to say—they both wind up getting what they want.

This was maybe your third or fourth time sleeping over. You honest to god never thought you’d make it this far. For all of his gross jokes and sexual provocations, Roman reviled intimacy.

It’s why when he first started to court you; you were so taken aback. You’d been around; you knew what the mumblings were about his ‘eccentricities’. You were the Director of Creative Affairs at the Waystar Studios L.A headquarters. A position you were remarkably young to have; your famous two-time Oscar-award-winning actress mother and prominent movie producer father having nothing to do with it at all.

Following the Gojo acquisition, Roman withdrew from executive operations, accepting the fact he no longer had a place there. That and he outright refused to be in the same room with Lukas Mattsson.

As such, he returned to the entertainment side of things (this time with no Frank to boss him around) and went back to living in L.A around the clock. Things hadn’t changed much in the three-year hiatus he had from working at Studios. 

Well, except for you. 

It was only in his absence that you got your job. You wondered had he been around during that time, if he would’ve made a stink over your dad pulling the strings and landing you the job. A practice that was completely foreign to him, no doubt. Of course with it being Roman, you knew with full certainty the answer—yes. Because who was he if not the world’s biggest hypocrite/walking contradiction?

You found this to be even more apparent after your first date. Roman made a point of booking the two of you a reservation for the most high-end, gourmet French restaurant in the city. Even though when the waiter came around to your secluded table with the 16 oz beef ribeye he’d ordered, Roman did no more than fidget with the garnish on the plate. 

While on that same date, though he’d surprised you at the beginning of the evening with an ornate bouquet of red roses and white orchids—he didn’t deign to even so much as hold your hand the rest of that night.

Three months later, you and Rome had exchanged a myriad of kisses and flirtatious squeezes around the office. The suggestive texts the two of you exchanged, making tempting offers and filthy propositions. All of that build-up only to result in chaste nights in at his flat, eating takeout and bitching about the latest tentpole flop your studio was in the midst of developing. It could be worse, you thought. To say your needs were being met, though, would be a lie.

Tonight was different. Tonight was heavy. 

The two of you had spent a good portion of the night sprawled out on the wooden floors of his living room, talking about nothing and downing a Japanese whisky neither of you could pronounce. The taste hadn’t left your mouths. You wondered if his would taste the same. 

After deciding to turn in for the night, you gradually make your way toward the master bedroom, stumbling over yourself. He stops you from colliding into the wall several times. You and Roman make the most obnoxious-sounding cackles as the both of you hap-heartedly flop onto his Hastens Superia bed. You let yourself fall deep into the cotton wool mattress, landing somewhere between sleep and a drunken haze.

You feel yourself be pried out of this state as a force slowly turns you so you’re on your back. You can tell by the faint outline of his fluffy hair that it’s him. In this lighting or lack thereof, you don’t really know for sure. You give a weak smile, maybe even whisper a small “hi”. He waits to proceed until the expression has fully faded from your face and the heaviness in your eyelids takes over. His lips made rough with the scratch from his beard, are forcefully pressed onto yours. Once again, you are ripped out of the peaceful purgatory between awareness and slumber you’d just been slipping into. It’s hard to not liven up at the wet sensation of his tongue slipping past your lips. 

Roman hadn’t ever kissed you like this.

Using your chin, he pries your mouth with his index finger so it's more open to him. Briefly, you consider gliding your tongue along his own, to reciprocate the motions, to achieve the taste you yourself so desperately craved. But you didn’t want him to stop. 

To get in his head like he had a tendency to. To sever himself from you yet again.

So you remain still. Pliant. His.

Meanwhile, his one free hand has wandered elsewhere. Roman’s fully straddling you at this point so you can feel a firmness in between his thighs that hadn’t been present before. The hand alternates from palming himself to cupping your bare mound. The chill of his fingers causes you to flinch. You suppose in the arduous journey to get to his bedroom, you must have lost your bottoms. You don’t entirely remember having ever taken them off yourself. 

It would remain a mystery.

The oversized white button-up blouse of yours has opened itself to Roman and his gaze. He moves the opposing sides of the fabric so they’re no longer covering your chest. Roman dives face first, smushing his face against the warm pillowy flesh of your breasts, inhaling deeply. He kneads them with his fingers and takes them into his mouth, sucking more gently than he wishes to. It’s clear Roman wishes not to disturb your ‘slumber’. 

He shows you a devotion other men had hardly shown you when you were fully awake. It was all a jumbled mess in your head. Due to the surrealness of the whole situation but also the liquor as well.

Instead of working his way downwards like most guys naturally would, Roman instead makes his way up to your neck, burrowing his head in the crook near your shoulder. He takes a deeper inhale of the tender flesh there. Eventually his nose prods into your hair which was strewn all over the pillow your head rests on. There were times at the office when you could’ve sworn he took a brief inhale of your hair when sneaking past you. You didn’t say anything. Even after you two had begun ‘dating’, you still didn’t question it.

While Roman halts his movements and lies on top of you, your mind drifts, thinking something to the effect of, ‘if he’s this much of a pervert when I’m asleep at night, what kind of disgusting shit does he get up to in the daytime behind my back’?

You have no time to dwell on the thought because something cold and slender traces your opening. Due to its tensility, you’re able to make out that its his finger that now fumbles around your entrance. There’s no foreplay, no crescendo because in an instant, Roman is inside of you. You can’t help but mumble a whimper at the sudden intrusion. He freezes, keeping the tip of his finger in you. When he sees you don’t stir and go back to sleep, he plunges what feels like his index finger deeper into you. So deep, you fear he’ll run out of space to fill. He stops just before it becomes too uncomfortable. Not that the interaction was all that pleasant. 

Mentally, you were aroused but physically, your body had yet to catch up.

“...not wet,” he says to himself. 

He withdraws his hand quickly, spitting multiple times on his now two fingers, and wedges them both inside of you. The lube of his saliva provides some slick but it’s still making you sore. 

“That better…? Hm…? Yeah…?” he coos, watching your emotionless face, “That what you need..?”

He smirks briefly when he sees your eyes flutter. 

“Oh…you dreamin’, baby? Hm, you dreaming about me?” Roman taunts, in a shrill soft voice, “You better be. You better fuckin’ be.”

You clench reflexively as he says it. Roman drags his lower teeth against the smooth skin of your arm as he continues to pump his fingers into you rapidly. Fast enough that your increasing wetness is audible in the still silence of his bedroom. Roman ceases all of his movements at once, letting out a sharp exhale. Gradually, he removes his fingers from your pussy and a moment passes before you begin to feel something warm and moist being smeared across your lips. You realize it's your own fluids. The notion makes your stomach flip.

Roman proceeds to lick it off your lips. His tongue becomes more and more greedy and taking the opportunity to drag along the sides of your full cheeks. You get the impression this is something he’d thought about doing before, if not entirely because of how slowly he does it. 

He’s fucking savoring it. 

‘This’ll be it. He’ll just continue to fuck around a little more and use it as spank bait later,’ you predict. 

The thought of Roman penetrating you with anything more than his fingers was truly unfathomable. There’d always been the rumor at work about him having ED (though the type of ED varied depending on who you were talking to) and needing the little blue pill to so much as jerk off. You never knew what to make of those claims. You disregarded them. But the stiffness that has been rutting against your hips and waist and thigh for the past half hour had you now wondering; ‘was he gonna go all the way?’.

A few more moments of nothingness pass. Then the metallic sound of a zipper being undone overwhelms your senses—the sonority soon replaced with dread. Even if he did position himself between your legs and bury himself fully inside of your unaroused cunt; ‘what would it really change?’ 

It wouldn’t suddenly make it ‘rape’.

 That ship had sailed several digits ago. 

You were on the pill if he decided to be lazy. You were clean and he had assured you many times he was as well—and you chose to believe him. The answer to your self-questioning was that it would simultaneously change ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’. 

So you brace yourself for his full weight on top of you once more along with the new sensation of being stretched open on his cock.

But it doesn’t come. 

Roman rolls off of you completely, laying adjacent to you on the mattress. There’s the rustling of fabric as he shimmies his slacks down his thighs. Roman’s hand flies to your wrist as he slides his dick into your relaxed grasp. Spitting into his palm and gliding the wet over the head of his cock, he begins to fuck your own fist in earnest. 

The most pitiful, squeaky boyish moans leave his lips and he pants them into your shoulder, hot from the heat of his breath.  

“F-f-fuck…oh f-ff…I…I fuckin’ need this, need this,” Roman whines into your hair, “Oh…oh…ohhh…needed this, need this, fuckin’ need this,”

His hips continue ramming into your hand at the same relentless pace. He’s clearly pent-up. Probably from the months of emotional anguish, familial turmoil, betrayal—with a dollop of grief on top. Small dabs of wetness is felt on your skin. At first, you think he’s drooling from arousal but you later realize those were tears. 

It doesn’t deter from his sheer desperation, his uninhibited need, all on display. 

You had been the one submitting yourself to him but somewhere along the way, the roles seemingly had become inverted. You hold back from biting your own lip. You had made it this far. You couldn’t fuck it up now. Not for him. If he stopped, you felt like you’d die a small death then and there. 

“Oh, please, my sweet. Sweet little thing, please be sweet. Please be good. Please take what you need. What you’ve earned,” you’d chant, if you were even capable of speech, “Please cum. Please cum now.”  

There’s no humanly possible way he could’ve heard your inner dialogue but his hips buck wildly and he unloads into your palm like he did. 

“Thank you, thank you, I needed it, I needed it, baby…oh, I fuckin’...I fuckin’ needed …,” he trails off.

His vibrating body eventually after a long while goes still. You’re able to unravel your hand off of his softening cock. The stickiness between your fingers is still lukewarm. If you had the strength or the agency, you might wipe it off with a Kleenex or onto the sheets or the perv in you may try to sneak a sniff or a lick. But you like him are beyond spent. He stays facing you, laying on his side, now sound asleep with a gentle snore. You remain on your back, shirt ripped open, naked from the lower half, face staring deep, deep into the void of the ceiling. 

It was this empty blackness—this dark—that you slowly felt yourself being compelled to. It’s where your darkest urges liked to dwell. The desires you never felt the courage to voice, even to those you trusted the most. It felt cliche to say you often saw Roman on the other side of this void. You got the impression it’s an island he’d marooned himself on for a long time. Every partner that tried to swim out to him sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor. And there they stayed in the depths of his subconscious. Submerged, sodden, drowned memory of a person that for years would continue to be buried by guilt. By shame. Fear. You refused to succumb to that same fate.

As you let the sleep overtake your tired limbs and melt into oblivion, you swear you see him in that void. Expressionless. He’s numb, like you. He’s scared, like you. He doesn’t know what he wants, much less what he needs. And neither do you. So in the meantime, you silently agree to meet him there in that void. In that black. Again and again. 

As long as you found each other in the end.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[succcession]

I have a request for Kendall!!!! I imagine him and the reader being on the verge of divorce and him being a possessive almost ex husband and making a scene every time a man breaths near the reader and them fighting and screaming at each other and then having the best make up angry sex of their lives.

Your mind is phenomenal, I hope you like it!

Marriage Make Up

Kendall Roy x f!reader smut 4.1k word count

You tried with Kendall. You really tried. It started with the coke. Which you could look past for awhile. Occasionally, suggesting various detoxes and rehab facilities, always trying to let him know you were there for him. Free from judgment. You knew who Kendall was when you married him, the addictions he struggled with. The trauma. However, the day you stood in front of him, your handmade white dress flowing, a traditional veil being lifted from your eyes to kiss him. You promised yourself you were going to be there for him. No matter what happened.

That was until the coke turned into ignoring all phone calls, never coming home, forgetting birthdays, and daily drunk 3am texts that clearly weren’t intended for you. You threatened Kendall that if this is how the marriage was going to be, you couldn’t be a part of it. But honestly they were empty threats. When you had made that initial promise, you meant it. 

That was until the escorts. 

You were awoken one morning by the ringtone of your phone, slowly blinking your eyes open as the sound grew louder. You threw your arm over searching to find the warmth of your husband's body sleeping next to you. Instead, being greeted by the now too common fabric of the cold sheets. You began rummaging through the pile of king size blankets searching your buzzing phone, eventually answering right before a call from Roman Roy went to voicemail.

“Hey! Seen your husband lately?” Roman questioned. Never beginning conversations with any kind of small talk. 

“Oh yeah…Kendall, my husband” you scoffed. “At this point I have no idea if he is even still alive.”

“Oh he’s alive alright. All over the news actually… Billionaire Logan Roy's son, Kendall Roy seen leaving NYC restaurant with instagram model Claire Hane.”

Roman read aloud the headline cackling after almost every word.

 “That girl is like, known to be an escort! What? Did you stop putting out?” He continued joking.

As soon as Roman had begun reading the headline your heart was pounding. Kendall in the news was rarely a good thing, and with every word out of Roman’s mouth you could feel heat rushing to your face as tears filled your eyes. 

Choking on the lump in your throat you struggled to come up with a respond to Romans teasing. You wanted to act unbothered, like you were as heartless as any Roy sibling, unphased. But the tears already streaming down your face clearly proved otherwise.

 “I…Fuck” you huffed finally managing to get something out of your quivering mouth. Everyone had warned you with patronizing eyes and scolding fingers when you married Kendall that he was inconsistent, unthoughtful, and “occasionally psychotic” his ex-wife even mentioned. However, you always waved their comments off with a smile. “Yeah, I know he has a lot going on, but I’m in love. And he can be really empathetic! I’ve never had someone take care of me the way that Kendall does. And not just with his wallet!” You explained over and over. Now all of your illusions were quickly shattering. Of anything he could do, cheating was not one you expected. Your sex life was great! At least, you thought. Maybe a little lacking lately, but that was hardly your fault seeing as though he was rarely home. Did he honestly need to pay for sex? Your confidence in him and your confidence in yourself were crashing down right in front of you.

“Look y/n, I’m sure it's not you. My brother is an asshole. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s been a shitty husband.” 

Nearly forgetting Roman was on the other line you groaned at what you knew was his attempt to cheer you up. “Thanks Rome, I’m gonna go drink over my failed marriage. Bye.” you mumbled quickly hanging up before Roman got another chance to throw in a heartless joke.

Time appeared to be moving painfully slow after the disheartening events of this morning. After laying in bed clutching your chest and sobbing for what felt like weeks, you eventually pulled yourself into the bathroom. Confronted by your gloomy reflection of swollen eyes, still in shock this was all really happening. That Kendall would really be hiring escorts, and that you would find out from his brother! You decided the only way to distract your distressing mind would be a hot shower. Taking your time to delicately wash your hair and lather every inch of your body with the expensive body soap. Even though Kendall was richer than you could comprehend, you still had a habit of trying to preserve those things, never using too much. However, now all those little things were out the window. Who cares anymore if I’m just using him, you thought to yourself. Obviously he doesn’t.

You dried yourself off slowly taking the time to apply a sweet smelling lotion and your face moisturizer. Taking one last glance at your figure in the mirror and letting out a deep sigh. “Fuck him, I’m still sexy” you exclaim aloud at your reflection. 

“Fuck yeah, you are!” You hear Kendall reply slyly behind you, looking back to see his suited figure leaning against the door frame. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe. You have no problem brushing off his remarks rushing to grab your white silk robe, covering your exposed body from him. Kendall was quick to pick up on your agitated reaction as you brushed past him.

“Okay. Yeah great what the fuck did I do now? Cause I know I didn’t leave any fucking drugs around the house.” he huffed, naturally jumping to defend his actions. 

“Yeah, probably because you’re never here.” You mumbled quietly. You weren’t ready to fight about it. Not yet at least. You still felt too heartbroken to even scream at him, simply just wanting him to disappear until you were ready to confront the reality. 

“I know I’ve been gone a lot y/n, but with my dad gone things at the office are just really starting to pick up and everything with Mattson, I mean…” his voice trailed off as you wandered around the room putting together a comfortable outfit. His rambling excuses eventually stopped when he looked at you and questioned, 

“Uh babe the fuck are you wearing?”.

“God Ken, why do you even care? You’re leaving again tonight right?” you sneered. He’s never home, and then when he is home all he has is work excuses and a problem with your outfit, seriously?

“Um, we're leaving tonight. Waystar Charity Gala. One of my biggest opportunities to make a good impression as CEO. What, did you fucking forget?” He exclaimed. 

“Fuck” you whined holding a finger to rub your temple. 

You had totally forgotten tonight was the charity event, explaining why Kendall was home and finally paying any attention to you. Part of being married to Kendall Roy was putting on a play. Attending various events and red carpets draped over your husband's side performing as his beautiful, dotting wife. Although, honestly you never had to fake it. You genuinely did adore Kendall and it made you happy to make him look good, and brag about his accomplishments to his peers. And you were good at it! Always leaving every man in the room jealous of how happy you made Kendall, and every woman dying to take your place. But tonight you weren’t sure if you could handle that job. You couldn’t even make eye contact with him right now, let alone appear like you’re obsessed with him. 

Kendall walked over to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at you. You resisted every urge to begin crying again, screaming at him about this morning's headlines. Although it was eating you alive, you knew that sobbing to him wouldn’t work on Kendall. The Roy’s were a different breed, and if you wanted to get to him, you really had to make him feel something. You looked up at his figure towering above you. Giving him soft eyes but maintaining the displeased frown on your face.

“Are you seriously this upset over me being busy? God I know, I’m sorry for being the world shittiest fucking husband!” he scoffed “ But I’m trying to take over a fucking company here y/n. Now, you knew what you signed up for when you married me, so we’re going to this fucking gala. And you’re going to be my loving wife, okay? You’re going to look beautiful, and you’re going to make me look good. Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for me?” his patronizing tone sinking deep into your chest. You knew he was half serious, half just attempting to intimidate you, and the good girl he had to throw in hoping it would finally get to you. And it did. Sending heat straight to your center. You gave a slow nod in response, not breaking eye contact. Although, this response was not enough for kendall as he roughly brought a hand under your chin “Say yes Kendall, thank you Kendall”. You repeated his words gently and even turned your head to leave a gentle kiss on his palm. His entire demeanor softened, you could easily play into his game now but you were already planning ways to get back at him throughout the night. 

Your dress for the night was a striking dark blue, a slight shimmer radiating from the bottom, drawing all eyes down the velvet fabric that formed around your body nicely. The plunging neckline, a lower cut then you would usually wear. You nearly forget about Kendall as every head in the crowd turned in awe at yours and Kendall's arrival. Your beauty quickly becoming the topic of the event.

 As you made your way through the party, Kendall snaked his arm around your waist breathing deeply into your neck, recognizing his favorite perfume of yours. Smirking as he whispered “You’re so good to me.” His words sent a chill down your spine. How could he so easily say things like that while he had another life going on? Your brain jumped between wanting to slap him, and completely surrendering to his touch. You wanted nothing more than to leave a soft kiss on his lips, lean your head into his shoulder and mean it. But you refused to give in so easily, letting his hands wander your body without returning any of the attention. 

 It seemed as though you had a spotlight on you, the way your dress glistened softly, your light smile drawing in awestruck gazes from every direction. Kendall analyzed every man who let their eyes linger on you as you passed by, his grip around your waist growing tighter with the minute. Although, he wasn’t saying anything you knew the increased attention surrounding you was driving him insane. Of course, Kendall's ideal night consisted of having the most desired woman in the room but tonight felt excessive. With men who had never spoken to him in his life stopping to shake his hand, clearly only for a chance to gain proximity to you.

You grabbed a champagne glass from a waiter before turning on your heel away from Kendall commenting “I’m going to go mingle.” 

“What are you-” his question, cut off by quick disappearance into the crowd. 

It was easy to charm the kind of men you find at these events. Whether they were married or single, younger or older all you had to do was act interested in their lives. Listen to them talk about how much money they make, throw in an innocent giggle and they’re easily under your control. Which made it easy to flirt with random billionaires throughout the room, but made for little true entertainment. Reminding you what you had first admired about Kendall. Although others rarely saw it, Kendall had depth. You two often would stay up till early hours in the morning pouring out endless streams of emotions to each other. He enjoyed deep conversations and sharing his daydreams. Kendall was made of much more than just Waystar inheritance money. Every other man in the room felt so…simple, so facile compared to Ken. 

It wasn’t long until Kendall found you in the crowd again, eyes locked on some investor as he did his best to swoon you. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, lightly letting your hand graze the man's bicep. 

Kendall formed a tight fist as he felt a trigger go off in his head. Kendall spent his whole life competing. He definitely wasn’t going to let your attention be stolen by anybody else. In his mind when he put a ring on it, he won you. Besides you hardly paid attention to the people at these things, why tonight did you decide to put on such a performance while brushing off all of his advances? The jealousy of your lack of attention was piling on him like a ton of bricks. He knew he had been extremely negligent in the marriage department lately, and as much as he probably deserved to be cheated on after everything he’s done in his life, he didn’t think you would be so quick to throw yourself at other men.

He made his way over to you and the man stood in front of you, quickly sliding in closely next to you. “Thanks for keeping her company, man. Keep up the good work.” Kendall joked aggressively.

“Ah anytime, we’ve all seen what a busy guy you are, hate to see you leave this beautiful thing all alone.” The man scoffed back lightly, referencing today's news. You were always impressed by rich men's ability to be mean to each other without actually fighting, it was as if cryptic trash talk was their second language.

“Oh, I guarantee I can keep my wife very entertained” Kendall asserted. 

You observed the two men wind each other up, pleased that your simple yet effective plan of making Kendall jealous was working. Eventually, the other man let up, leaving you two standing alone. Kendall’s chest was heaving in front of you, his large eyes scanning the room, and you could sense that he was trying to calm himself down. Resisting from making a scene. He knew he needed to stay longer, that he should spend the entire night networking with strangers, gaining the trust of possible donors, anything to earn respect as CEO. But as his anxieties regarding your displeased attitude began growing more unignorable, he wanted nothing more than to drag you out of the venue. Away from everybody's eyes, and against only his. Protected. 

Kendall wasn’t saying a word to you, and you took your opportunity to wander off again to search for anyone semi handsome you could pretend to care about. However, your first step away from him was interrupted by a rough grip on your hand. You turned hesitantly, knowing you will be met with his distressed eyes, “I’m done with this fucking game. We’re leaving.” 

The fighting began the second you walked into the apartment building. Not even making it past the lobby before Kendall was yelling out “So are we gonna fucking talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about Kendall? How you clearly have no desire to even be married to me? Why don't we start there!” You explained only to be met with a stunned 

“What?”.

“You’re never fucking here Kendall! And if you are here you’re high, mad at me for being upset that my husband only ever sees me when he's coked out of his mind!”. You had never yelled at him like this, shocked at the amount of anger you could feel swelling in your chest. 

“Oh and now you don’t even want to have sex right? You can just hire someone for that too! I hope eventually you can spend enough money on pussy and drugs to actually be happy Kendall!”. It was harsh, yes. You wanted to hurt him. Hoping maybe your words could compare to how it felt reading the headline.

“Fuck you. Okay, what the fuck are you talking about y/n?” 

“The news, Kendall! I’m not fucking stupid! Everyone has seen your recent little public affair. Obviously, I don’t make you happy so please lets just do whatever the fuck we have to do to end this! I don't want anything from you, I don't care, I just don't fucking care anymore” you aggressively stammered on, raising your hands in defeat.

Kendall was sitting on the bed watching you pace the room. He didn’t realize that his dinner last night had made so many news articles, but they weren’t lying. He did meet up with an escort, thinking that fucking someone he didn’t care about might actually help him blow off some steam. But by halfway through dinner he had already made up his mind that he couldn’t follow through with it. Sure, she was beautiful and listened to him rant about work and his ex-wife. Nonetheless, his interest faltered with every coy giggle she let out. She wasn’t sarcastic like you, she didn’t push back or tease him. It was as if you were the only one bold enough to treat him like a real person, not just a possible paycheck. He left the restaurant with her but only to have her dropped back off at her apartment, giving a soft apology while still paying her the originally intended amount. He thought he could be like his dad, not give a fuck about anyone, use anything for his own pleasure. But he was positive his dick wouldn’t have been able to get hard all night, and trying only would have made it miserable for her and him.

“I didn’t fuck her.” Kendall finally huffed in response pushing himself to stand in front of you “I couldn’t fuck her! I’ll be honest with you y/n, I wanted to. But we never even made it past the fucking restaurant! I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You never leave me side y/n and I know I fucking put you through hell and back! I’m really fucked up, but I didn’t fuck anyone else!” 

You weren’t sure whether to believe him. Regardless you would still be upset that he considered it. But there was something oddly sweet about a man who could buy any woman not being able to go through with it because of you. Kendall had slowly been stepping towards, and your hands laid gently at your side, unsure of what to do with all the information in your head, only to be met with a rough kiss from Kendall. You pushed him away exclaiming “Kendall, what the fuck? I’m so fucking pissed!” yet you were met again by his tight grasp around your waist and his lips returning deeply to yours. This time unable to resist the urge to give in and kiss him back.

“I know. You should be pissed. But I love you, I love you y/n.” he muttered in response against your lips. The sound of your shared panting filling the room as the passionate kiss continued. Kendall walked you backwards until you collided with the wall behind you. 

“So fucking mad at you Ken!” you growled into his mouth as you both clawed each other's clothes, his arms raking down your backside squeezing your ass roughly and brushing the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. Letting the fabric pool around your waist his mouth was quick to begin leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck, stopping to nibble gently on the skin between your neck and shoulder. You threw your head back as his mouth made contact with your nipple, he sucked harshly, pulling the skin lightly with his lips, and then soothing the sensitive bud by tracing circles with his tongue. His other hand working to undo the zipper holding up the remainder of your dress. You attempted to steady your shaking hands and loosen his belt and dress shirt but the feeling spreading from your nipples to your pussy was already causing you to struggle. When your dress pooled around your ankles, Kendall wasted no time in lifting you into his arms, legs instinctively wrapping around him as he sucked on your bottom lip. You could feel his bulge pressing firmly into your center as he trapped you tightly between him and the wall. His hips grinding, desperate to buck into you, causing a yelp to leave your mouth every time. 

He moved his hands swiftly, lowering his dress pants enough to pull his cock out, rubbing the large bead of precum that was forming on his head between your folds. 

“Fuck Ken!” You exclaimed as you felt his head pressing firmly against your slit. Kendall usually enjoyed taking his time, slowly working his cock into you, trying to make you as wet as possible before bottoming out. However, now you could feel him pushing in with no hesitation. Grunting as your lips squeezed tightly around him, giving you no time to adjust, only pulse as he pushed deeper. His cock had never felt so swollen inside you before. You weren’t sure if it was the time apart or the passionate argument but your pussy was yearning for every inch of him inside you, and to completely submit to his hold. But your brain still had the lingering thoughts of his actions.

“Why Ken? Fuck- why do you have to be like that? Why can’t we just talk?” You managed to moan out 

“I don’t know why I’m so fucked up y/n” he grunted into your ear pushing the final inch of his length all the way inside of you. Both of you let out a sigh in unison as your bodies aligned perfectly together. Your legs spread wide for him as he held your ass in his palms, grinding deeply into you. With each thrust his pelvis softly nudging your clit driving your pleasure further.

Backing away from the wall, while maintaining his tight hold around you, Kendall walked your conjoined bodies over to the bed. Laying you down harshly against the edge of the mattress, pulling your hips quickly to meet his, pushing his dick deep back inside you. He collapsed into your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your chest. He fucked into you at a brutal pace, you were unable to controls the cries that left you lips each time his thick head brushed against the sensitive spot along your walls.

“Ken please- I need you” you whined scratching your nails down his back searching for anything to hold onto while the knot in your stomach tightened. 

“I want to be better, baby. I can be better for you. I promise” He groaned deeply into your neck, his words so easily seducing you back into completely trusting him again.

“I want you home Ken, I want- ughh you” you managed to moan out breathlessly. As your orgasm drew closer, so did your thoughts about missing Kendall. You just wanted to tell him how much you loved him, how much you needed him but all that left your lips was a loud cry as you felt your pussy finally release on his cock. 

“You’re making me cum! Fuck Ken oh my god, wait wait I-…” you yelped.

Your hand reached between your legs pressing your palm to his stomach as your overstimulated pussy throbbed harshly around him. He maintained his brutal pace, holding your hips in place as you squirmed against him.

“Just a little more baby, you can take me. That’s my girl” he cooed, his hands straightening your legs over his shoulder. His hips snapping against your ass, eyes never leaving yours. Watching in adoration as your eyes shut closed, but your mouth remaining open, drool falling down your chin as the pleasure slowly became too much. 

With a few more powerful thrusts Kendall was releasing deep inside you. Allowing himself to collapse completely into your warm body. Shallowly grinding his hips to ride out his passionate high. Waiting until he felt your walls stop throbbing around him. Allowing both of your breathing to relax before he eventually pulled out with a long sigh. Kendall looked down at you fucked out face. His thumb brushed your cheek gently, then ran it along your bottom lip. He thought you always looked so beautiful with your cheeks flushed pink, hair wildly flying around your face. Arms reaching up searching for his protection. He wasn’t ready to give up on another marriage, not when the make up sex was like this, he laughed to himself. He gathered you in his arms scooting your bodies up the bed, until he was comfortably holding you.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

[eeveebitches]

bathroom. || Kendall Roy || smut

Pairing: Dom!Kendall Roy x F!Sub!Reader

Summary: You're Roman's assistant, at a launch party Kendall invited you to. Stuff happens along the way that you're sure would get you fired.

Word count: 3.794

18+ only! More under the cut,

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Dom Kendall, implied one-sided attraction from roman, bathroom sex, fingering, p in v, sexual tension, stewy makes a cameo

A/n: this is based on a request i got! :DD

_______________________

It’s a cold night, and Kendall is standing in front of you.

You don't know Kendall that long, but there's a clear twinkle in his eyes that shines with deviancy as he greets you. Even in the darkness of the New York street, you can see a glimmer that simply can't be usual. His smile is something you'd consider overly excited, and his short hair is slightly ruffled. You look him up and down, taking note of his casual appearance. "Hey hey heyy, there's my girl," he says with a wide grin.

He goes in for a side-hug, which you lean into with a smile. You don't expect him to speak as close to your ear as he does as he tells you, "I'm really fucking happy you could make it," so you can't help but shiver as his breath fans against your ear. Kendall pulls away from the hug, immediately searching for eye contact as he keeps grinning at you. "You know I'm never one to say no to a good party," you chuckle, letting him lead you from the street into the building.

It's some random start-up party, and Kendall had asked Roman to invite you, so now here you are. You aren't completely sure why he'd invite you, though.

You guessed it was because of Kendall's strange need for validation, and somehow him having a lot of 'friends' validated him. Not like you're complaining-- the white mini dress you're wearing has been collecting dust in your closet, so you're happy to put it into action.

"I like your, uhh, get-up. Real church girl gone slutty vibes. Fits you," he notes, eyes shamelessly raking over your body. You roll your eyes at him. He's high at most, and strangely giddy at the very least. Whatever he says tonight will not be worth worrying over. "And you look like you're gonna be a guest at Comic-Con," you shoot back as you let him open the door for you.

He ushers you inside with a hearty laugh, casually resting a hand on the small of your back which, surprisingly, you don't hate. "Listen, I know you hate those yuppy-wuppy parties, so I thought this kinda shit would be right up your alley. Good food, free drinks and a DJ that doesn't fucking suck." You hum as you scan the hallway you're standing in. Kendall quickly turns to talk to security, while you quickly grab your phone out of your purse to check your messages.

[ sad victorian puppy ]: Where the fuck are you

[ sad victorian puppy ]: ????????

[ sad victorian puppy ]: Hurry up before I hang myself with the fairy lights

[ sad victorian puppy ]: I'm not joking

[ sad victorian puppy]: I'm doing it right now

"You ready to dazzle loser-y tech bro's?" Your head shoots up from Roman's messages to give Kendall a nod. He yet again casually places his hand on the small of your back, handing you a wristband as he starts explaining random finance shit to you. It's all 'bla bla shareholders, bla bla stakes' to your ears, but you nod along as he bridges into the people he knows at the party.

The main event hall is spacious, fairy lights and plastic vines struggling to make this whole thing feel low-key. With a bar in the corner and a lively dance floor at the very front, you let Kendall lead you through the crowd as he points people out. "That's Shane, nasty fucking guy. His dad got in trouble for insider trading, so he made a jailbreak video game based on him and made bank," he practically giggles into your ear, hand slithering to rest on your side.

The side of his body is flush against yours, and his hot breath fans against your ear with each smart-mouthed remark. There's something promiscuous about it all, and you can't help but lean into his casual touches. "Is that one friend of yours here, too? With the beard and gray streak?"

He raises his brow at you in amusement. "You mean Stewy? Why, d'you wanna fuck him or something?" he asks through a wicked grin. "I barely know him, Ken, and you know I prefer being wined and dined." His eyes crease as his smile grows, curiously watching you. "Uh-huh, sure you do. Miss self-respect over here." You grin as well, walking out of Kendall's hold to disappear into the crowd, making your way to the bar.

Almost immediately you spot Roman, whose deep frown you can see from far as he stares at his phone. "Hiya, Romes."

You didn't mean to startle him, but that doesn't stop you from laughing at him when he jumps up, hissing out a sharp 'Jesus fuck' as he turns to glare at you. "Is this what you've been doing? Haunting this place and scaring people like a fuckin' poltergeist?"

"I mean, I am wearing white," you remark, before quickly ordering a mocktail as you hop onto one of the bar stools. Roman scoffs at you, choosing to simply stand next to your seat and lean against the bar. He seems strangely nervous, something you tell yourself to ask about later.

He slips his phone into his pocket with a huff. "Yeah yeah, whatever, Casper the shitty fuckin' assistant." Your drink slides in front of you, so instead of mustering a quip in reply, you opt to quietly taking a sip. It's surprisingly bitter, but you don't hate it.

From the corner of his eye, Roman carefully watches you. "Y'know, I can see you glaring at me," you mumble against the glass of your drink, smiling at Roman as he straightens his back and clears his throat. "Fuck off, I'm just weirded out by you in a party dress. It's uncanny valley type shit," he says, awkwardly tugging at his own fingers like he's trying to dislocate them.

"I think you're using uncanny valley wrong." With a scoff he turns his entire body to properly glare at you. "I know what uncanny valley is, and you in a dress like this gives off major android vibes. Like the real you has been replaced by a freaky, lookalike sex doll." He pokes your arm as he says it. His face is crinkled in childlike disgust as he watches you take another sip of your drink.

You can tell he doesn't mean it. He knows he doesn't mean it, too, hands fiddling as he fights the urge to touch the fabric of your ivory dress. "Still weird that Kendall wanted you here. Are you fucking him? I'm gonna fire you if you are, because that's, like, reaaally fucking gross," he groans out, continuing his glaring as you nonchalantly finish your drink.

"How about you first ask HR if asking about my love life is appropriate behavior, then I'll tell you all the juicy details." And with that you place your empty glass down and stand up from your seat. You pat Roman's shoulder with a grin. "I'm gonna go socialize, so stay put," you tell him, and while you didn't mean for it to come off as flirtatious, you don't correct yourself when you realize it does.

You maneuver through the hipster ocean, avoiding the guys wearing Rick & Morty shirts with ugly tweed blazers on top who are desperate for a conversation with you. The dance floor is in full swing, something you're sure you wouldn't have seen if you arrived earlier. Kendall had told Roman, who then told you that the later you arrived, the better it'd be.

Speaking of that devil, there Kendall stands, wearing kicks you're sure are worth more than your soul, a casual blazer and a shirt with a minimalist design. He lights up when he sees you, smile reaching to his eyes as he calls you over with a wave. Next to him stands that friend of his, dressed far too formal for the occasion.

He opens his arm, signaling for you to slot against him, which you do with far less hesitance than you'd like to have had. "Had enough of Rome?" he teases, carrying a blissful grin. You ignore the comment, instead focusing on Ken's friend.

"Roman's assistant, right? Haven't seen you since that thing in Florence." You hum in agreement, trying to dredge up his name from your memory. Kendall removes you from his arm to stop a wandering waiter and ask for... something, who knows. "Yeah, you were just as overdressed then as you are now," you reply with a cheeky grin.

What his name was, though, is still on the tip of your tongue. Something with an S, for sure, but the rest of the letters just don't place themselves.

Kendall returns to your side, and quickly whispers in your ear,

"Stewy."

He turns his head to look at you, and as your eyes meet he shoots you a coy grin before turning to, well, Stewy. "Y'know Rome has her write his e-mails? She probably knows more confidential shit than I do at this point." Stewy lets out a small chuckle, clearly looking you up and down. Kendall laughs at that, although there's a sharp tinge to it.

After some small talk between the two men that you simply could not follow for the life of you, Stewy leaves to go to the bathroom, winks and nudges palpable as Ken tells him to have fun.

"So, how're you liking it?" he suddenly asks you as the two of you walk to the couches in the corners of the room. "It's very... trendy." You smile as Kendall huffs out a laugh, the two of you sitting much closer to each other than you really have to be.

His thigh, which is surprisingly firm, is flush against yours. You can feel yourself holding your breath, but you just can't seem to breathe out as Kendall doesn't stop making eye contact. "Yeah, this is some hipster bullshit, I know. Still, the drinks are good, and the catering isn't pathetic."

"I haven't even had the food here yet, is it really not that bad? Those mini sandwiches seemed a bit..." He chuckles at that, nodding his head as his eyes quickly dart around, searching for something.

"Like absolute dog shit, yeah. But I swear it tastes pretty good. Let me go get some for you." You were expecting him to stand up, but instead he waves over a guy most definitely getting paid below minimum wage. "Hey dude, can you get me and the lady some of those mini sandwiches? And some drinks, too."

The waiter scurries off with a nod, so you turn your focus back to Kendall who's simply staring at you. "Seriously, thanks for coming. Not to sound like a sappy loser, but I do appreciate it. You're reliable, that's important shit to me, y'know?"

You smile at Kendall, patting his thigh. "It's no problem, Ken. You're a cool dude," you tell him, which somehow makes his eyes glimmer more than they have been so far. With a bewildered, yet smug look he keeps staring at you. "Good to know you find me cool. You're, uhh, cool too."

His hand goes to lay on top of yours, and suddenly whatever cologne he's been wearing floods your sense of smell. The air becomes heavy, too heavy for you to bear, as he continues looking into your eyes.

But then he squeezes your hand, quickly looks away and lets out a light chuckle. As if on queue, the waiter appears, drinks and ugly sandwiches on a platter. He places them on the table in front of you, then quickly departs.

"Fucking finally," Kendall mumbles, grabbing one of the sandwiches. "Alright, now open up."

"Open up?" He hums, smile growing more and more devious as he taps his mouth. "C'mon, say 'ahh', humor me." You have no reason to go along with it, or him, but something inside of you wants to, so you obediently open your mouth as Kendall plops the sandwich in your mouth.

The tension is palpable, partially because of how intense his eye contact suddenly becomes when you accidentally wrap your lips around his finger for a second as he pulls away. Flustered, you start chewing, letting out a muffled sound of enjoyment as the harmonious flavors spread over your palate.

"Shit, Ken, this is good," you giggle out, hand covering your mouth in a weak attempt at hiding your flustered expression. "Told you, didn't I? You can trust me, y'know."

He takes his own bite of food, as well as a dark blue drink, and he--

"Shit."

You look down at your dress, and all you see is blue.

Kendall spilled his fucking drink.

"Fuck, completely my bad," he hisses out, immediately grabbing you by the arm and leading you to the bathroom. For a split second you think you see Roman watching the two of you, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as you rush to one of the spacious bathrooms and lock the door behind you.

Kendall seems a bit frantic, like cold water was thrown over him, hands shaky as he grabs some paper towels and awkwardly tries to dry you off. "I fucked up, I'm sorry. Did you have a jacket with you, or?"

You simply shake your head no, to which Kendall grimaces. "Send me the cleaning bill for this shit, alright? This is completely my fault," he murmurs. "Ken, it's fine, it's just a drink. It'll wash out by itself."

It definitely won't, but the verbal comfort seems to ease his mind, as he stops wiping. "Yeah, you're, uh, you're right. I can get Jess to go find a jacket for you, it'd be here in like, ten minutes."

Before you can even decline, he walks to the other side of the bathroom, phone held against his ear as he mercilessly calls Jess during a Friday evening. You stare at yourself in the mirror, frowning at the splotch of blue. As you try to tug the dress a bit away from your skin, Ken appears behind you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just really sticky," you groan as you grab another paper towel and struggle to push it in between your dress and your bare skin. "Fuck, this is uncomfortable but, uh... would it be cool for you to zip my dress down a little? So I can actually reach inside my dress."

Your cheeks are hot as you ask him, eyes cast down to the marble floor. He lets out a tense chuckle, stepping close enough to reach your back. "Yeah, of course." You look into the bathroom mirror and watch Kendall as he slowly reaches for the back of your zipper.

His knuckles brush up against your skin as he takes the delicate zipper in between his fingers. Little by little, he pulls it down, watching your face through the mirror. Breathlessly he waits for you to nod, to tell him that it's enough.

But for a reason you could never say out loud, you don't. Instead you watch him zip the dress down, lower and lower until the zipper ends at your waist.

His hands sneak into your now unzipped dress, holding onto your bare hips as he places a careful kiss to the back of your neck. "God, you smell fucking divine," he groans out, covering your neck and back with pecks as he roams your body. The pads of his fingers are rough against your skin, like sandpaper against velvet.

He gropes one of your breasts, breathing in your scent while his other hand traverses lower and lower. The whine you let out as he gently tugs at your nipple is desperate, something he replies to with a simple kiss to your temple. "You gotta be quiet, can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

Before you can even nod, he lunges at you, lips smashing against yours. He doesn't take his time, tugging at your bottom lip as he groans into your mouth. It's like he's trying to ravage you, hands growing rougher in their touch as he drowns in your scent. 

You can barely hold back your moans as he consumes your entire being. His hand finds the rim of your panties in no time, and with zero hesitation he pushes two of his fingers against your clit. The small circles he makes send small sparks of delicious electricity through your body. "So wet for me," Kendall whispers against your lips, still watching you through the mirror.

His gaze is hot, burning through your skin and heating you to your bones as he pleasures you. "Ken, please."

He can't stop himself from chuckling at how needy you are. "I kinda always knew your whole put together thing was bullshit. I mean, look at you now," he says, letting out a sharp laugh as you shiver at his words. 

"Roman doesn't even know you could be like this, huh? A needy slut fucking her boss's brother in some random bathroom." He doesn't give you any time to respond, his two fingers move from your clit to slip inside of you. Your walls squeeze against his digits as he uses his thumb to keep the pressure on your clit constant. 

It's all too much. His filthy words against the shell of your ear as he abuses your cunt, his other hand still busying himself with your nipple. It's hot, and harsh, yet the most satisfying feeling you've had in years.

Not only that, but you can tell how riled up he is, too. Panting, lightly grinding against you, hungrily staring at your reflection. "Fuck-- sit on the sink for me," he groans, removing his fingers. You do as he tells you, whimpering at the sudden emptiness.

He pushes his fingers into your mouth without much warning, but you gladly let him. There's a small part of you, in a very dark corner of your brain, that's cursing you out for being here. For letting him feed you, for letting his hands even graze against you. It's like every moment with him tonight led up to this moment, with you sucking your own juices from Kendall's fingers as he undoes his pants with his other hand. 

Kendall pulls his fingers away, wiping your saliva on your exposed thigh. You giggle as he pulls a condom from his pocket, giving him a teasing look. "Prepared, are we?"

He shrugs, expression almost bashful as he carefully rips the foil. "Not gonna lie to you, I got them from Stewy right after you walked away," he chuckles, cheeks raised high as if he's genuinely embarrassed. "I was really hoping for this," he motions between the two of you with a strangely sincere smile, "to happen."

"Stop being a sap and fuck me, Kenny." His head hangs low as he laughs at that, pulling out his cock as casually as one can when getting ready to fuck their brother's assistant in a bathroom. You bite the inside of your cheek raw as you watch him slowly roll the condom down. He lets out a small hiss as he does so, eyebrows furrowing as he gives himself a few loose-handed strokes.

With a gentleness he hadn't shown before, he pushes your thighs apart and your panties down. He looks into your eyes and smiles warily as he lines himself up against your entrance. "Are you okay?"

You roll your eyes at him, and with a burst of sudden confidence you grab him by his hips and push him against you. It takes a small bit of adjusting from Kendall, whose amused grin is, at this point, infectious.

As his cock slowly delves into you, you let out a tandem moan. "So fucking tight," Kendall huffs out, thumb yet again finding your clit as he watches you weakly writhe. "Can you please just move, Ken?"

The laugh he lets out is breathy, but he quickly complies, almost fully removing himself from you before slamming back into you. The pace he sets is brutal, his large hand clutching at your side and his eyes only focused on you. Your dress is clumsily pushed down, letting your tits bounce freely as his every thrust shakes you to your core.

Kendall doesn't relent with his other hand, either. He roughly spits on your sopping wet cunt, thumb gliding over your slick clit with ease. His every move leaves you gasping for air, and if it wasn't for the hand you're using to cover your mouth, you're sure everyone outside would hear you.

"I knew I had to fuck you when I saw you in this dress," he groans out as you shove your head into the crook of his neck, biting on his shoulder to keep your noises unheard. "I don't know how Rome handles having you around, always wearing those tight fucking pencil skirts. I'd bend you down over my desk," he picks up his pace, harshly slamming his cock into you, "and eat your pussy with everyone's watching."

With a particularly hard thrust and his words ricocheting in your head, you fall apart. Your entire body convulses, and everything turns a pure white as you can feel Kendall smash his lips against yours in an attempt to swallow your noise.

His own thrusts grow sloppy, and with a gruff moan he slowly stills his movements. You stay like that for a moment as you come to, his forehead resting against yours. You're both panting, and horribly sweaty, and as you slowly open your eyes the first thing you notice is the blue on your dress. Ken follows your line of sight, letting out a weak chuckle. 

"We, uh, still haven't fixed that." 

The two of you share a laugh, before he slowly pulls himself. You pull your panties up as he busies himself with discarding the condom and tucking himself back into his pants, hissing at the cold sensation of your cooled down slick. "Hey, didn't you call Jess or something?" you mutter, more to yourself than to him as he helps you zip your dress back up. "Yeah, she's probably been waiting."

"Poor Jess." Kendall heartily laughs at your sympathy. "I just gave you a mind-blowing fuck, and you're worrying about her?"

You shrug, shooting Kendall a small smile as you fix yourself up a bit in the mirror. Ken wraps an arm around your waist as he stands besides you. "So what happened to being wined and dined? Or is that still on the table," he asks through a brash grin. 

"Stop being a smart ass and ask me on a date like a normal rich guy."

"Rich guys don't do dates," he jokes as he unlocks the bathroom, arm still around your waist since your legs are wobbling, 

"they fuck assistants in bathrooms."

[littleredwing89]

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 3

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 3

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. Slight jealously.

A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Hope you all enjoy the next chapter! :) xoxo

------

The slam of the office door startled Roy and he almost spilt his freshly made coffee over his neat ironed shirt. He glanced up and caught Jason’s eye-line. He sighed internally and rested back in his chair. This wasn’t good, Jason looked irritated. Roy readied himself for a long rant. He wasn’t going anywhere soon and his coffee was probably going to go cold. Fuck.

Jason ranted for the next fifty minutes about the French clubs and their recent spurt of PR disasters. Roy rubbed his temple, his façade beginning to crack. He stopped listening beyond the first five minutes, his mind wandering elsewhere.

“So we’re going to have to go over there and set everything right, Harper. We can’t leave them any longer, not if we want the clubs to still be in business by the end of the month!!”.

“Yeah about that…”, Roy swallowed a mouthful of cold coffee and pointed to his diary before wincing at the foul taste.

“What?”, Jason grunted, confusion spreading across his face.

“I have plans this week”.

Jason scoffed, “Plans? You? Like what?”.

Roy shrugged, “Somethings to finish up here”.

“Uhuh”, Jason muttered unconvinced and edged closer to the diary on the desk, “I didn’t realise you were so swamped”.

“There's some department issues I have to fix, a few check-ins with the clientele”, Roy tried to fight the blush threatening to spread across his cheeks. Why wasn’t Jason letting this go?

“Can’t you get one of the others to do it? I don’t really want to go on my own”, Jason whined and rested on the edge of the desk, picking up a stack of post-it notes flicking through them aimlessly.

“You don’t have to go alone, I have the perfect person”, Roy gave him a cheeky grin, finally feeling the tables turn.

Jason glared at him, “I’m not going with Eric - fuck that, I’d rather let the Iceberg sink”.

“As funny as that would be, I know how important this is”, Roy snatched the post-it notes from Jason, irritated that he was messing with his stuff.

“Oh”, Jason smirked, “So you do have a brain”.

“No, I slept my way up here. Anyway, you should take Y/N. She’s competent and she can stand you. A very rare combination”, Roy stood up abruptly from the desk and walked across to the window, looking out across the murky streets of Gotham.

“I’m a joy to be around”, Jason grumbled.

“Your last assistant didn’t seem to think so”.

“She was an airhead, she didn’t understand what I wanted from her role”, Jason rolled his eyes. He remembered Maggie. She barely lasted the week before he found her sobbing in the toilets.

“You can’t hire people for sex”, Roy’s lips curved as he looked over his shoulder.

“There is an entire industry built on it. So I think we can disagree”, Jason snarked back, folding his arms across his chest.

“Fuck”, Roy sighed loudly and scrunched his eyes shut, “You are giving me a headache - are we done here?”.

Jason ignored Roy’s snappy remark and looked out of the office window catching you walking past, arm full of white envelopes, “So you want me to take Y/N? Won’t you miss her here?”.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I couldn't cope without her, Just go talk to her…I'm sure that she'll talk to you, she’ll be happy for the business opportunity”, Roy couldn’t help but smirk at the last part.

“I don’t have any issues talking to her, I just don’t want to set your department back”, Jason’s ears turned pink, the thought of your naked body flashing in the back of his mind. That silk nightgown barely covering your ass. He swallowed and fidgeted on the spot.

“We'll survive while you fuck her stupid for a few days”.

“I don’t know why you assume I’m fucking her”, as it left his lips, Jason knew his voice had completely given him away. And the record speed he answered.

Roy laughed huskily and grabbed his mug, “I’m not blind Todd”.

Jason didn’t bother to give a reply and headed towards Roy’s office door, “We’ll be back by Friday”.

———

The second Jason had appeared on your department floor, you’d felt your skin flushing. Your thoughts were filled with repeat memories of him in your bed. The way his calloused hands slid over your body. You grabbed the stack of envelopes and stood up briskly, you needed to distract your mind from him. Before you combusted at your desk. You headed down the corridor towards the printing room but stopped when you heard the deep timber of his voice. 

“Do you have a moment?”.

You turned around and nodded, “Of course Sir”.

Jason swallowed, feeling his stomach twisting with nerves, he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt this way. He fixed his tie as he spoke, “I need someone to represent your department on the Paris trip. Harper recommended you”.

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh, did he now?”. 

“He suggested you’d be the best fit for the job”, Jason’s clinical business tone made you chuckle internally. You noted he was clearly struggling, fidgeting more with his tie. You enjoyed the way you made the imposing man nervous.

“And what do you think?”, you took a step closer to him in the empty corridor, your voice dropping low and seductive. You licked your tongue along your plump lower lip, eyes tracing his mouth.

“I think you'll be passable”, he muttered, watching your tongue with interest. He suppressed the moan in his throat and inched closer to you.

“Wow...”, you rolled your eyes, “I’m glad you think I’m just passable, so full of compliments!”, you turned away and strutted down the rest of the corridor, swiftly entering the printing room.

Jason blinked in surprise before following after you quickly, closing the door behind him, “I don't suppose you're turning down a free trip to Paris?”.

“But Sir, I have unfinished work here that I need to complete for Mr Harper”, you teased, putting the paperwork on the desk at the side. 

“Harper promised to pick up the slack”, Jason followed the curve of your legs, framed perfectly by your heels. He tried to ignore the sensual way your lips shaped as you spoke.

“Really?”.

“He’ll sort out whatever you don’t get done”, Jason lied. He knew Roy had promised nothing of the sort but he couldn’t give a damn right now. Your body completely distracting any rational thoughts he had.

You abandoned the printing and smiled brightly, Mr Harper could entertain himself with the photocopying whilst you were enjoying Paris with Jason, “Well then, if you want me to go with you, I will Sir”.

Jason growled and stalked across the room, caging you against the printer, “Keep calling me Sir and I’ll lock that door behind us…I don’t care who hears you”.

“But Sir, I have forms to deliver, they’re already a little late”, your hands snaked up his stomach, before grabbing his tie, tugging on it playfully. His lips ghosted over yours.

Jason’s hands grabbed the back of your thighs and he lifted you easily, making you squeak. Your legs wrapped around his middle on instinct, ass pressed into the printer pad, “What did I say?”, he nipped your bottom lip, thumbs stroking up your legs.

You shivered as he continued to stroke up your thighs, whispering against his mouth, “We’re at work Sir…this isn’t very wise”.

Before Jason had a chance to reply, there was a loud bark of laughter bouncing down the corridor, followed by heavy footsteps getting closer and closer. Jason’s face knitted with irritation before sighing, stepping away from you. You hopped down quickly, adjusting your skirt before the door flew open. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you were using the printer N/N”, Dick smiled at you then turned towards Jason. His cheeks turned rosy and he ran a hand through his jet black locks, the cogs in his mind turning as he assumed; correctly; that he’d interrupted something.

“Don’t worry Grayson, I’m finished now”, you sauntered past Jason, patting Dick on the chest, “Knock yourself out”. You sashayed out of the room leaving Jason and Dick staring at each other.

———

Five long hours. You’d almost fallen asleep in the last hour. You hadn’t imagined business meetings could take this long, although to be fair, the last hour had been filled with Jason’s business associates talking about fast cars and football. You smoothed your hands down the front of your dress and stood up slowly, “If you’ll excuse me for one moment, I need to use the restroom before we go”.

You gave Jason a look to tell him to hurry up before you left, hurrying towards the bathroom. 

Antoine turned to Jason, a smarmy smile on his face, “You've got quite the woman there Todd”.

Jason noticed the leering stare and the way his eyes drank in your svelte form, “Oh she's just one of my business team”.

“Oh? I thought she was a personal associate of yours”.

“No no, just a colleague”, Jason assured, fixing the cufflinks on his suit jacket.

“Do you think she would want to come out to dinner with me this evening?”, Antoine shifted in his seat, looking towards the door waiting for you to come back. He’d been enamoured with you from the second you walked into the room. He only became more fascinated as you spoke throughout your excellent presentation.

“Certainly not”, Jason snapped.

Antoine turned to him shocked and swallowed nervously. Jason’s shift in tone had taken him by surprise. He hadn’t expected the bite in Jason’s voice or the heated stare.

“What I mean is that we have something planned for the evening, so she won't be available”, Jason back tracked quickly, giving him a dashing smile. He hadn’t meant to sound so aggressive but the thought of Antoine taking you out for fine French cuisine with the possibility of more made his temper burn.

You came back into the room after using the bathroom and smiled brightly at Antoine, “Thank you for the excellent presentation this morning, it was good to meet you”, you held your hand out to him.

Taking your hand in a firm grip, Antoine shook it before pressing a kiss to the back of your palm, “Likewise, enjoy your activities this evening, mademoiselle”.

You flushed at the kiss but felt confusion curdling with it. Activities? What activities?

Turning to look at Jason, you noticed his eyes were narrowed at Antoine. The tension was obvious and thick enough to cut with a knife. You pulled your hand back quickly and grabbed your bag from the table, “Have a good evening too”, you murmured before leading Jason out of the building.

He didn’t say a word all the way down to the lobby. His brow knitted every so often. You left him to stew unsure what was wrong. He’d been completely fine before you went to the restroom. What had Antoine done? Heading across the car park towards his rental you finally gave up accepting the silence, “What’s wrong?”.

“Nothing”, he grunted and unlocked the car waiting for you to get in.

You sighed and folded your arms, standing firmly, “What’s really going on?”.

Jason blew air past his lips in frustration and turned to face you finally, “That fucking moron up there putting the moves on you in front of me in the middle of a fucking business meeting. Then he asks if he can take you out?! He thinks I’m a fucking idiot. He’s lucky I didn’t fucking sack him on the spot but, unfortunately his presentation and ideas are too good to lose”.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left your lips once he’d finished speaking. “Seriously? That’s what’s wrong?”, you walked up to him and wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, toying with his shirt collar, “Don’t worry. Even if he was trying to get into my pants, someone else is currently already there”.

“Sounds like a lucky man”, Jason let his hands bracket your hips as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. It was softer than you expected but you leaned into it, letting your tongue swipe along his.

Pulling away reluctantly, Jason opened the car door for you, “We have dinner reservations at the Four Seasons tonight”.

———

Striding down the corridor from his room, Jason stopped in front of your hotel suite. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you made it back to the hotel after the dinner you’d shared together. That beautiful midnight blue dress you’d been wearing had tempted him all evening. The neckline dipping low so he had an excellent view for the duration of his meal.

He cursed the entire hour he was alone in his room for not inviting you back to his suite for a ‘night cap’. Taking a deep breath, he finally knocked on the door, shuffling from foot to foot. What if you’d gone to bed? What if you saw it was him through the spy hole and ignored it?

The turning of the lock made his thoughts stop and he smirked when he saw what you were wearing. You stood holding the door slightly ajar in nothing but a fluffy towel, the tips of your hair wet and curled. He couldn’t help but follow the droplets of water racing down your chest.

“Evening”, he winked and pushed his foot into the doorway.

“Do you just time your visits when I'm undressed?”, you looked up at him coyly.

Jason grinned cheekily, “I try my hardest princess, but the spy camera in your room does help”.

You shook your head and laughed softly, “It’s not like you haven't seen everything”.

Stepping further into your space, Jason’s hands found your waist, caressing your  sides, “True, but I wouldn't mind another peek”.

His touch sent shots of desire up and down your spine, your core beginning to throb at the unspoken promise, “I was halfway through a bottle of wine in the bath”.

“Sounds perfect”, he made his way into your room and started to unbutton his shirt.

“You’re a little eager”, you closed the door behind him, sliding the lock into place.

“Says the woman who’s already wet?”, his tongue traced his bottom lip, looking over you hungrily.

The way he was eyeing made your confidence swell. You hadn’t had a man look at you like that before. You pouted your lips playfully, “You’d have to try harder than that Todd”. You turned on your heel and wandered back into the bathroom, a cheeky smile covering your face.

Jason growled and chased after you, grabbing your wrist. He spun you around quickly and pinned you against the bathroom wall. Your breath caught in your throat and you swallowed thickly, desire coiling in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t have to try that hard, do I princess?”.

You looked up at him, your eyelids hooded with lust. He was right. Jason didn’t have to do much to make your skin light with passion. You reacted to him so easily, your body betraying your mind.

He dipped his head down to the crook of your neck and planted rough, open mouthed kisses along your flesh. You shivered as his stubble scraped your skin, your thighs clenched involuntarily. The familiar burn, heating up in your core.

“You mentioned something about a bath didn’t you?”, his words were muffled by your skin as he spoke, his fingers tugging at the top of your towel.

He took a step back and watched as the towel pooled at your feet leaving you bare and slightly damp in front of him. His eyes darkened as he tried to drink in every inch of you all at once. The damp sheen across your skin sparkled in the low lighting of the bathroom making you look ethereal. Jason growled looking over your body, his cock twitching at the sight.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Your foot kicked the towel to the other side of the bathroom before you moved back across to him.

“Mmhmm”, you murmured, hands working at his belt to free him of his clothes, “And I think, unless I’m mistaken, that you wanted to join me”.

Jason allowed you to undress him, watching as you worked slowly, until you had him fully naked. His cock throbbed with need as it bounced against his abs as he climbed into the bath, sinking down into the steaming, wet heat. The ache of the day suddenly faded as the burning waters soothed his muscles.

The swirls of steam spiralled around him as he lazily lounged his arms over the side of the tub, “Don’t keep me waiting princess”, he smirked.

You swayed your hips as you headed back towards the bath. Jason expected you to jump straight in but you stopped by the sink. He raised his eyebrow but rolled his eyes when he saw the wine glass pressed to your lips.

“Princess”, he growled and splayed his thick legs in the bath. His patience was wearing thin.

You drained the last of your beverage, tipping the glass up. A droplet of red wine escaped and landed on your chest, streaking down the valley between your breasts. You saw Jason watching intensely.

“My bad”, you grinned and swept the rogue rivulet of wine with your finger, bringing it to your lips. You sucked it gently purposely winding your tongue around your finger before making a popping sound as you finished.

“Get in here, now”, Jason cursed, the pulsing in his cock becoming worse with every passing second.

You gasped loudly when Jason grabbed your hips forcefully when you sank down into the hot water with him. You felt his heavy cock brush against your clit under the water and you whined, the sound trapped in your throat.

“You’re such a fucking tease”, he ground out, his thumbs pressing hard into your waist, “But don’t worry, I’ll soon have you sobbing whilst you bounce on my cock”.

You shuddered, his words making your mind hazy.

“You gonna be a good girl and ride me?”, Jason removed his hands from your body and laid back in the bath, head resting against the rim of the tub. His body glistened with water droplets highlighting his sculpted physique. He grinned up at you, hips thrusting upwards towards your silken core.

“Yes Sir”, your voice was breathy with desire.

Hovering your pussy over his cock, you sank down slowly, swallowing him inch by inch. You moaned unabashedly as you felt him drive up, bottoming out. He felt so good fully seated inside you.

You circled your hips slowly as your hands smoothed up your own body, cupping your breasts. You pinched your nipples between your fingers, rolling them lightly. Your head tipped backwards, as you sighed his name in bliss. The way his cock stretched you was perfect. Your walls clamped around his shaft as you rose up and down repeatedly on him. Each time his length bumped against your g spot.

The water splashed wildly over the sides of the bath as you bounced on his cock faster, chasing down that same intense high as before. You looked down at him through your thick lashes and bit down hard on your bottom lip.

Jason was a sight to behold. His head rested back against the bath, cheeks flushed red, eyes shut as he laid back and enjoyed the way you fucked him. His arms were hung over the edges, hands tightly wound into fists.

“Fuck!”, you sobbed as you fucked him deeper into your pussy, “Jason! Fuck!”. You pressed your hands against his solid chest, his heart was beating erratically. Working your hands up his body, you dragged your nails through his wet hair. The growl that left his lips was deep and husky.

He opened his eyes to watch you, the way your breasts bounced with each thrust. Jason smirked and moved one of his hands back into the tub. You watched it disappear before crying out in surprise.

“Oh god!!”, you moaned louder and your eyes shut as Jason flicked over your clit.

“You look so sexy when you cum all over my cock”, he groaned and continued to work your clit faster. You clenched around his shaft, the vein on the underside of his cock pulsed as you squeezed your velvet heat around him.

He grunted, the sound rumbling through his chest as he lifted his hips in time with your bounces. The cries that left your lips were sinful. The scream of his name over and over as he took you to the edge.

“Jason- oh god-I-”, you mumbled, feeling your mind tumbling away from you as your orgasm began to peak.

“That’s it”, he coaxed, “Cum for me princess”.

The flames of your orgasm burst through your body as you continued to ride his cock, the water splashing over your body. His name passed your lips like a mantra to the heavens as you soaked up the feel of your climax.

You sucked in greedy gulps of oxygen as you fought to catch your breath back. Jason slipped his wet hands to your hips and rocked you back and forth on his still rock hard shaft.

“Jay-”, you couldn’t finish your sentence as he thrust up into your pussy violently, pulling you down hard with each hammer of his hips.

You felt your eyes roll back into your head as your sensitive core quivered around his cock. You moaned louder and threaded your fingers through your hair, letting your breasts bounce heavily with his punishing thrusts.

“I love the feel of your tight little cunt”, he growled and snapped his hips harder. You mewled and dug your nails into your scalp, the shocks of electricity shooting down your spine.

“You take my cock so well”, his voice broke and he groaned deeply, “God you feel so fucking good”.

Every praise made you purr more, the euphoria thrumming through your veins. The buzz was like nothing else and you felt yourself becoming slowly addicted. The timber of his voice echoed in your mind, teetering on the edge of your second orgasm.

Jason gripped you harder and yanked you down hard onto his length, “Fuck- I’m gonna fill that tight little pussy - fuck - cum with me”.

His brutal pace continued as he bounced you faster on his cock, working you deeper. You screamed out as your climax burst behind your eyes, blurring your vision for a moment.

Jason moaned your name, his deep voice thick with lust as he emptied himself into your core. His fingers bruised your skin as his thrusts became slow and soft. He was panting heavily when he finally stopped, you relaxed down into the water, resting your head in the junction of his neck. Your lips brushed his collarbone gently, so gently Jason wondered if he was imagining it.

His hand stroked up your spine and wrapped around the back of your neck, thumb running along the pulse of your vein.

You moved your head and looked up at Jason, giving him a soft smile before chuckling, “I feel so sweaty and gross now, this is all your fault”.

Jason grinned and shrugged innocently, “Personally, I blame you for answering the door in that tiny towel”.

You scoffed, “I wasn’t expecting guests at 11pm”.

“I wasn’t expecting to be tempted so thoroughly”, he winked, “Not that I’m complaining”.

You rolled your eyes and smirked at him, “You’re too easy to tempt Todd”. Turning in the bath, you manoeuvred yourself to sit between his open legs, back pressed to his chest. You relaxed back for a second, enjoying the way the warm waters engulfed your body.

“I don’t think anyone could resist you princess”, he murmured against the shell of your ear, enjoying the way you shivered.

“Seduce me later, right now I want to get cleaned up properly, like I originally intended”.

You felt Jason fidgeting behind you, then you heard the tell-tale click of the shampoo bottle lid. He squirted the liquid into his hands and lathered it quickly before weaving his fingers into your hair with a gentleness you didn’t expect.

“No funny business Todd”, you tried to sound threatening but the way he was massaging your scalp made the words come out in an airy whisper. 

“Scouts honour”.

--------------

[nanabrainrot]

Perversion, Aversion [Pervert!Roman]

Roman needs a glimpse of you behind the mask, uncontrolled. He can imagine; there’s too many porn stars for none of them to resemble you.

WC: 654

Warning! NSFW content, mentions of pornography, masturbation, and Roman being creepy toward his assistant

You are reading Part I | Part II | Part III

Part I

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It’s because she looks like you.

The resemblance is enough to sate the imagination while not ruining his already trembling psychology, the last string of his strength to not buckle down and cry like a baby at your foot and plead for something. A kiss. A flash of your panties. Shit, your spit in his face would probably make him cum and cry in one shot.

But you’re so stiff, in all senses. Your languid and docile expressions eating him whole, the calm nonchalance of your face screwing in such brief stretches it only served to agitate him further. Every rare flicker of expression on your face fanned a sick fire: he wanted your reactions. It was stupid, with his fear of intimacy and your tame face, to think he could drive you to this porn star’s comical reactions but it’s enough.

The woman’s face is screwed in pleasure, the face perfectly aligned with the middle of his phone screen. Her nose is just like yours, the eyes just adjacent, and the skin tone a perfect match. The hair color the same but the length was stuck a little past her shoulders and more voluminous, thanks to all the curling and hairsprays that inevitably stuck it that way behind the scenes pre-porn shoot.

Your face would probably look like hers though: mouth ajar and eyes clenched shut with pleasure, brows knit. Panting, whining, groaning. Mascara all screwy around the eyes and dribbling down in streaks of black as she bounced on a man’s cock off camera - the scene was basically just her face at this point, eyeballing and capturing every reaction (true or false) in the chip of the camera to be broadcast to the thirtieth page of this porn website. It leaves him bucking into the palm of his hand still not free from his briefs and feeling pathetic as the realization sweeps over him after he ejaculates in his briefs: he had just cum to a splitting image of you.

-

No amount of teasing or taunting and poorly disguised lust made the tension any lighter. On his end at least. You lean over him, waves of a coconut perfume sweeping over his senses. It’s enough to make his eyes roll back, picturing his face shoved into the nape of your neck and pulling back to see that porn star’s expression: lips apart and basically drooling, mascara running, and chest heaving as you tried to breathe through the ripples of pleasure. It’s disturbing. “There, the email’s back. You’re welcome,” you huff plainly. Always plainly. Always monotone and uninterested; you didn’t even pretend that you wanted to be his assistant.

“Thanks, almost fucking shot this thing to shadow realm,” Roman scoffed, taking the mouse from your hand to start sifting through his other tabs - one of which was his history. Sifting through, the screen freezes: on his fucking history.

The breath catches in his throat as you stand back to your full height, a brow barely tilting up to simulate something close to curiosity or amusement. Your face is still stone, half-lidded eyes looking at the assortment of tabs: xnxx, xhamster, pornhub, xvideos, and then some. The searches all seemed to reflect traits that were similar to yours. Searches for your skin tone, hair length, and race flitted across the multiple websites’ history. You glance over.

“Just hit control, alt, delete, or turn it off again. It’s my lunch break,” you hum with amusement. So close to a smile, the way your lips twitch. That porn star kind of smiled like that in the cumshot at the end; it’s enough to make his dick twitch and the looming embarrassment seeping in. You breeze out the door, in that indifferent elegance very few women had.

“Probably wouldn’t have deleted that email if you weren’t flicking through every porn site you can, Roman,” you scoffed, barely hiding the grin as you leave the room.

The porn star is bookmarked on his phone.

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first roman roy x reader no one look at me 😭 hes so pathetically hot drop thirsts hcs or requests for him sry if my characterization is a mess 😔

[beegomess]

But I see her, in the back of my mind || Kendall Roy

Resumo: Você e Kendall sempre estiveram juntos, até que não estão mais. No entanto, algumas coisas mudam radicalmente e, de repente, tudo parece ser atraído de volta ao seu antigo lugar. Avisos : Apenas fofo e alguns palavrões . Nesta história não haverá Rava ou qualquer uma das crianças. - contagem de palavras: 5,8k

Things were... different. To say the least, the word "chaos" seemed to be written on the walls of your life in recent months, as if it were a cruel reminder that when you got involved with the Roy family, nothing would ever be simple.

Since adolescence, you found yourself enthrined in the family drama, and the involvement with your father, Frank, next to Logan, seemed just to be the harmpart of what was to come. You were two years younger than Kendall in college, and at first, what started as something silly, a secret and almost ridiculously intimate relationship between you, soon became a public scandal. The paparazzi, as always, didn't waste time. Photos, names, headlines - your relationship was catapulted into the spotlight, and it didn't take long for the whole world to know who the two young people in love were.

Logan, in turn, has always had a genuine affection for you. You were more than just Kendall's girlfriend; he really saw you as part of the family, with that acceptance that was almost familiar. There was something in the way you dealt with Kendall that Logan respected, something he couldn't define, but that he knew you did easily: you put him on the axis, in a way that no one else could. But, of course, no one can deny it, Kendall always made slips, both in her personal choices and in professional decisions.

You were together for years, with comings and goings, as always. But the truth was that, after each separation, they always came back to each other. It was something that, deep down, you both knew would happen. However, when the last time you saw yourself in his arms unfolded, something changed. Something you couldn't ignore. You decided to put a stop. Without further involvement, nothing but friendship and professionalism. And, amazingly, you managed to move forward with it. Kendall, at a certain point, even started dating Naomi Pierce, trying to move on, but you... you couldn't even think of trying to move on with anyone else. Your focus was on your work, on your obligations, on what was expected of you at Waystar.

But something wasn't right. You felt tired. Not the normal tiredness of a hard working day, but a visceral exhaustion, as if your body were begging for rest. Sleeping, for endless hours, became his only solution, but even after twelve hours of sleep, it seemed that nothing was enough. Some dizziness began to become more frequent, and a strange feeling of nausea settled in you, bothering you to the point of being difficult to ignore. All that added up, until, on a particularly bad day, you could no longer pretend that nothing was happening.

It was an ordinary afternoon, the day running like everyone else, when you decided to take a ride with Shiv to Logan's birthday dinner. The dizziness became more intense that week, and the nausea seemed to chase you all the time. Even when Shiv talked excitedly, you could barely pay attention. Her mind was somewhere else, trying to focus only on not vomiting inside her car. But, inevitably, his mind couldn't resist.

- Stop the car! - His voice came out more urgently than you intended, and Shiv was immediately scared.

- What the fuck is this? - She asked, her tone of voice mixing surprise and concern, but before she could understand the situation, you were already pushing the door and bending out, releasing everything that was in your stomach.

You leaned back in the car seat, eyes closed, trying to catch your breath. His body trembled, and drops of sweat began to form on his forehead.

- For God's sake, are you okay? - Shiv asked, now visibly alarmed.

- Yes, yes, you can follow, please - you tried to calm down, although the voice came out weak. The driver went back to the car, and you tried to stay as calm as possible. - It must be a virus, something like that - you shrugged, trying to disguise the growing concern.

But Shiv wasn't convinced. She was still watching you, her eyes narrow, suspicious.

- How long has this "virus" been happening? - She asked, her voice firmer, as if it was hard to believe the explanation.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a little uncomfortable with the question, but there was no denying the symptoms that had been dragging on for weeks.

- A few weeks, I think - you admitted. - I still haven't been able to find time to go to the doctor, but... - you interrupted yourself, taking a gum from the bag, trying to divert the focus.

Shiv didn't seem satisfied with the answer. She looked at you for a few more seconds, before, with impressive naturalness, asking:

- Have you ever had a pregnancy test?

Those words paralyzed you. His body frosted instantly. How could that not have crossed your mind? Something so simple, and yet so devastating if it were true. You swallowed dryly, the thoughts starting to accelerate in your mind.

For a moment, the car seemed to slow down along with your thoughts, and you found yourself aiming at the horizon through the window. I didn't know how to answer. I didn't even know what I felt.

That same day, you took the test. The word "pregnant" appeared clear and unequivocal on the display, the beginning of all the drama you knew was coming. But telling him was something that gave you chills. After a week of creating courage, you finally called, and he showed up at your apartment that night.

Kendall was shocked at first. His silence was dense, as if he needed to process the weight of that revelation. But, little by little, the shock gave way to something that almost looked like relief - an instant where, when hugging you, he totally forgot about Naomi. A relief for which he would bitterly blame himself later.

The promise, however, was that nothing would change. You would go on with your lives as you were. After all, you had been the first to impose limits months ago, to draw a clear line between your past and the present. This pregnancy wouldn't change that. You weren't willing to establish a love drama in your life, even if it was what Kendall ended up wishing for, deep down.

For a few weeks, they kept the pregnancy a secret, although Shiv had his suspicions. Her belly began to show a slight rounding and the symptoms became increasingly unsustainable. It was impossible to keep secret for much longer. So, Kendall decided that she would tell Logan and her family at a reserved dinner at her father's house.

The dining room had a strange atmosphere of expectation. Logan, Márcia, Shiv and Roman were sitting, waiting. Shiv exchanged glances with you, already waiting for the revelation, while the others kept their curious expressions.

- I'm pregnant! - You said directly, a brief smile on your face. For a moment, everyone was silent.

Logan was the first to react, with a rare, genuine smile. It was a reaction that almost heated the tense environment of the room.

- Oh, but what great news, dear! - Márcia exclaimed, taking her hands gently.

- That's... really good. - Logan said, smiling at you and Kendall. - Good for all of us. I'm happy for you.

Roman did not hold and murmured, with that characteristic tone of provocation:

- And is the baby Kendall's? - He asked the question as if he already knows the answer, but soon noticed his father's stern look. - Okay, it was just a joke. Sorry.

Shiv looked at you with a restained smile and asked, almost like someone testing if the news was real:

- Do you know the sex?

- Yes. It's a boy. - You replied, a little relieved to see that dinner hadn't become a disaster. Not yet.

The conversation followed an almost banal course for a few minutes. But you couldn't stay long at the table before a sickness attacked you. He excusedm, saying he needed to go to the bathroom. Kendall almost offered to accompany you, but you insisted that everything was fine.

As soon as the door closed behind you, the atmosphere at the table changed immediately. Logan leaned towards Kendall, a slight smile still on his lips.

- You know, I'm happy for you, son. - The simple sentence had a huge weight. Kendall thanked him softly, while Shiv looked at him with a mixture of envy and discomfort. Logan continued, satisfied. - I knew you were going to end up getting it right. Sooner or later.

Kendall's face turned pale. He knew what was coming next, but he couldn't stop Logan from continuing.

- You've already proposed to her, right? There is no better time for this. - Logan gave Márcia a satisfied look, who nodded, smiling.

Kendall took a deep breath, almost as if she was preparing to jump off a cliff.

- Dad... - He started, trying to gather strength to say. - We're not going to do it that way.

Roman let out a sarcastic giggle, humming softly:

– Wrong answer, Ken.

Logan slowly let his smile disappear, the expression hardening.

- What did you say?

- I'm still with Naomi, dad. And she and I... well, we decided to continue that way. - Kendall looked away, her voice lower.

Logan let out a dry laugh, disbelief mixed with disdain.

- What the fuck does that mean? - He got closer, his eyes like daggers. - For God's sake, boy, what do you think we are? A circus?

Roman didn't miss the opportunity, his voice loaded with sarcasm as he added:

- It's going to be a beautiful scandal: "Kendall Roy plays happy couple with Naomi Pierce while there is a pregnant woman at home".

Kendall, visibly uncomfortable, just closed her eyes for a second, trying to ignore her brother.

- In how many ways can you embarrass your family, Kendall? - Logan let go of the rhetorical question, his heavy tone of disapproval.

Logan continued, his voice increasingly cold and sharp, as if each word was an attempt to section any attempt at Kendall's resistance.

– She would be the perfect solution for you. Finally something stable. But no, do you prefer to keep this circus with Pierce? This only proves how useless you are.

Shiv finally manifested himself, his voice lower, but full of resentment:

- And what's the plan here, Ken? Take both on a leash and see which one can hold you longer? Because you don't even know where this will lead, but I think we've seen this movie before, haven't we?

Kendall stared at Shiv, noticing the anger repressed in his tone, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to answer, but he gave up.

Logan lets out a dry laugh, mixed with disbelief and fury, before leaning towards Kendall, as if he were trying to intimidate him by proximity.

- What the fuck is this, son? - Logan's tone is now pure contempt. - I knew you were a failure, but that... This is low even for your level. Do you want to continue playing house with Naomi? Great. But fuck, have at least a drop of decency for someone who will carry your son, fuck! If it was just you getting dirty, I wouldn't even care, but that? This is a monumental disrespect.

Kendall tries to take a deep breath, seeking calm, but the fingers on the sides of the chair denounce the growing tension. He swallows dryly before answering.

- It's not like that, dad. She... she understands. We... we're fine with it. - He says, but his voice falters. The attempt to sound convincing fails miserably.

Logan, once again, lets out a harsh and ironic laugh.

- "Are we okay"? Do you really think she's "oin" with all this shit, Kendall? And what a big shit that you are "well". Look at you! Is that what you want for your child? Growing up watching his father crawling around like a dog between two owners?

Kendall lowers her head, swallowing the urge to fight back, but her hands tremble with anger.

- Dad, I'm trying... trying to make this work. - He answers, but his words come out more like a ragged excuse than a defense.

Logan doesn't contain himself, the contempt on his clear face.

- Is that what you call trying? Throwing the family name in the mud, as always? And now, on top of that, humiliating your son's mother in this shitty game? - He advances, his voice threatening. - If you had a minimum of honor, you would propose to this girl today, now. I would put an end to this circus of horrors with Naomi and, at least once in my life, act like a man.

Kendall, feeling the weight of pressure and humiliation, tries to defend herself stronger this time, her voice slightly raised.

- I love Naomi. It's not a joke. She and I are together, and... this is not something I can throw away.

Logan punches the table, knocking down the cutlery and attracting everyone's tense gaze.

- Is that what you call loving? Getting into drugs and parties with her, letting go of her responsibilities and dragging our reputation in the mud? Is this love for you? Fuck, Kendall, you don't even know what love is!

Shiv and Roman watched everything in silence, exchanging restless glances. The tension hung over the table like a heavy shadow, and even Marcia seemed to have lost her smile. As soon as you returned, you noticed the charged air and the way everyone took a deep breath, with the contained expressions of those who tried to disguise a storm. Márcia still tried to break the ice, kindly asking if you were better, but the energy of the room already said it all: something serious had happened.

On the way back, you and Kendall shared the car. He kept his gaze fixed on the window, in a thick silence that you respected, feeling that he needed space to digest his father's harsh words. Logan had this destructive ability to pull out every drop of joy from Kendall, using nothing but a few well-calculated words. You didn't know what had been said, but you didn't need to ask to understand the impact either.

When the car stopped in front of your building, you hesitated for a moment before opening the door. Instead, you placed your hand gently on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support. He kept looking forward, his jaw tense, and you saw the sadness contained in the features of his face. He took a deep breath and got a little closer, with a tone of voice as soft as it could be.

- I don't know what he told you... - you started, hesitating for a moment to choose the words. - But I know how much it hurts you, how much he can get into your mind.

Kendall didn't answer, but her face trembled slightly, as if she was going to break any second. You squeezed his shoulder a little more firmly, an anchoring gesture.

- I just want you to know that... that doesn't define who you are. You are much more than the way he sees you. And... - Your voice became a little firmer, but still soft. - No matter how difficult things get, I'm with you, Ken. We're going to go through all this.

Kendall finally turned to you, with teary eyes. He seemed on the verge of falling apart, the words stuck in his throat, the weight of a lifetime in a look. Before he said anything, he pulled you into a hug, tight and silent, as if that gesture was the only thing keeping him standing. You held him tight, running your hand over his back in a comforting caress.

- It's okay, Ken... I'm here. - You murmured, in a soft tone, letting him feel the sincerity of each word.

There, in that hug, you realized that, as much as the world around you collapsed, he felt safe by your side. And in the silence, between heavy breaths and tight hugs, you knew he found a little peace.

___________________________________

A few days have passed since that dinner, and somehow, in his calculated manipulation, Logan got exactly what he wanted: the weight of the provocations brought you and Kendall closer. But that only marked the beginning of the chaos. Logan's "brilliant" idea was to gather the whole family on the boat, for a celebration on the high seas that anyone could see that was just another pretext for him to throw fuel on the fire. Kendall was sunk in another crisis with Naomi. Since learning of the pregnancy, the relationship between the two became increasingly unstable, as if it were on the verge of collapse. She freaked out, reacting with intensity and anguish, and maybe he was an idiot in telling everything when she was still stoned. But Kendall insisted that nothing between them would change. Maybe he really wanted to believe it, and the boat seemed like a last attempt to show her that there was room for everyone - if not for her, then for himself to believe that it was.

When you arrived at the boat, later that day, Naomi was already there, but she didn't seem comfortable. She held herself in silence while watching Logan receive you with a warm smile, something rare for him. He pulled you into a hug and gave you a look that bordered on affection.

- There she is. You look absolutely beautiful! - he said, and you smiled in response, exchanging a funny look with Shiv, who was next to him, holding back his laughter.

Naomi observed everything with an expression that oscillated between discomfort and contained envy. It was rare for her to see Logan be affectionate with someone, much less with Kendall, and that scene, no matter how much she tried to ignore it, hit her hard. Even if she hated to admit it, she knew Logan was right: the pregnancy made you radiant, in a way that seemed to intensify the contrast between you. She noticed how you moved with a kindness and grace that escaped you, and saw how even the setting sun seemed to frame your image, with the breeze making your dress sway slightly on your belly. It was obvious to her now, the reason why Kendall loved you, or - and the doubt about which verb tense to use corroded her - maybe she still loved you. The uncertainty of the answer made something in his chest tighten.

Later that night, the family gathered on the outer sofas of the boat. The low lighting left the sky dark in contrast to the light tone of the provocations, the acid jokes and the laughter loaded with irony. You tried to maintain a minimum of cordiality, but you knew that, in the Roy dynamics, every attempt at peace was superficial, about to be broken at any moment.

Frank, however, watched everything with a closer look. He knew you better than anyone, and saw under your smile the loneliness you tried to hide. He knew that, with all the changes, his mother's presence would make a huge difference, and it made him feel overwhelmingly guilty for no longer being able to be there for you, to be the support you needed. But his biggest concern was in Kendall. When he saw Logan's son lost in a stormy and distracted relationship, he felt a lump in his stomach. He knew that, even with all the flaws, you trusted Kendall, and now, while he got lost with Naomi, Frank felt a growing anger when he saw you there, being one of the few people willing to make Naomi feel welcomed, while he himself failed to give you the protection he would like.

Naomi knew that too. I saw that, among everyone there, you were one of the only ones to treat her with kindness. And while she hated herself for feeling that discomfort, she also realized that, in your presence, something inside her broke in comparison, and she found herself, for a second, wanting to have the serenity that you emanated.

The night followed with laughter and disguised looks, but the tiredness gradually began to weigh. Frank kept watching you, with the eyes of a father who understood too much about the weight of that family and knew what each unspoken word cost you. When you finally asked permission to leave, he followed you with his eyes until you disappeared down the corridor, with a single certainty: if Kendall was not able to be by your side in that chaos, he would need to be.

Later that night, silence hovered heavy over the yacht's deck, enveloped by the darkness and stillness of the open sea. Kendall was alone, his hands resting on the wall, watching the trembling reflection of the lights in the ocean. Thoughts swirled in his mind, turbulent like the waves, until he heard soft footsteps approaching, almost imperceptible.

Logan stood next to him, but didn't say anything right away. He just stood there, with his gaze fixed on the horizon, allowing the discomfort to insinuate itself in the air. Finally, he broke the silence, the low and calm voice, almost paternal.

- You know, son... - Logan murmured, without looking away from the dark waters. - I've been thinking about something. - He paused, letting the tension accumulate. Kendall, feeling the weight of the words that would come, straightened up, preparing for the clash.

Logan gave a smile that couldn't reach his eyes, a rehearsed, calculated smile. - I want you to understand that I have nothing against Naomi, I... like her, really. - The pause was long enough to be uncomfortable, and he let out a restrained sigh before continuing. - But you know, this weekend... should be about the family.

Kendall furrowed her eyebrows, her jaw stiffening as she absorbed what came next. Logan knew exactly how to press his weaknesses, and each word seemed strategically chosen to probe his son's defenses.

- I understand that you want to be with your girlfriend, of course. - Logan tilted his head slightly, with a tone of rehearsed understanding, which bordered on condescension. - But don't you think that maybe... maybe it's time for you to focus more on the woman who is carrying your child?

Kendall's breath was stuck for a second. He felt a pang of irritation go through his body, but instead of exploding, he restrained himself, as always. He looked at his father, trying to keep his tone firm, but he couldn't stop some of the tension from filtering into his voice.

- Where do you want to get with this, dad? - he said, his voice low and controlled.

Logan caught the slight tremor in the question, an indication that he was on the right track. He leaned slightly forward, in an almost intimate gesture, his voice softening like someone who advises a disoriented son.

- I think maybe... it's a good idea for Naomi to come home tomorrow. - He made a theatrical pause, letting the suggestion hover in the air, accompanied by a meticulously calculated sigh. - Of course, the decision is yours, but it's evident that she feels out of place near us, you realize, don't you? The way she avoids conversations, how it seems... out of place. It wouldn't be fair to force her to stay in an environment where she clearly doesn't feel comfortable.

Kendall looked away, feeling her father's familiar and uncomfortable pressure. He knew that Logan didn't say anything by chance; every word, every pause, every sigh had a clear purpose, a direct line for control.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the pressure of the conversation tighten in his mind. The dark sea ahead seemed inviting, a place where he could dive and escape Logan's overwhelming presence. But when he opened his eyes, his father was still there, watching him with that penetrating and almost pious look.

- You always talk about family, dad... - Kendall murmured, trying to keep the tone neutral, but the resentment flowed into every syllable. - But this, this situation... - He gestured vaguely to the vast and opulent yacht, to the oppressive silence of the night. - It's you who makes the rules. The only thing that matters is what you want.

Logan smiled sideways, a smile that carried a trace of contained victory. He leaned even closer, his voice now low and sharp, leaving the paternal tone aside.

- Do you think I do this for myself, Kendall? - he said, his voice almost a whisper, but every word seemed to resonate in the silence around. - I do this for you, for all of you. Because you, my son, need someone to keep you on the right track.

Kendall felt the weight of those words like a punch. Logan knew exactly where to touch, knew where Kendall was most vulnerable. He wanted to answer, he wanted to say that he didn't need anyone to guide him, but the reality was that those words made him falter. Logan leaned a little further, taking advantage of the moment of hesitation.

- Naomi doesn't understand this, Kendall. - Logan continued, now with an engaging, almost hypnotic voice. - She's not like us. You don't know what it means to be part of this family, what it means to hold the weight of a legacy like ours. And now you have even greater responsibilities. He's about to become a father. And what does a father do, if not think about the well-being of the family?

Kendall looked away, feeling the confusion increase inside him. Logan noticed every little reaction and took advantage of them like a conductor conducting a symphony.

- Dad... - Kendall murmured, almost in a tone of supplication, but his voice failed, and he didn't know exactly what he was trying to say. He didn't want to give in, but somehow, his father had put him against the wall, reminding him of all the times he had failed, every time he needed Logan's hand to guide him - or, worse, to get him out of some hole.

Logan, seeing the hesitation, put a firm hand on Kendall's shoulder, squeezing in a way that almost hurt, but that seemed full of a distorted affection.

- Kendall, son... we all make mistakes. I made mistakes. But I learned. And you? - He tilted his head, as if he was analyzing it deeply. - Don't you think it's time to start making better choices? To think beyond yourself? If she doesn't fit... maybe it's because she just doesn't belong in this world. Not like your son's mother...

Kendall swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in her throat. He wanted to scream, he wanted to free himself from that hand that pressed him while offering the support that he, paradoxically, felt he always sought. Anger and guilt mixed inside him, clouding his thoughts.

- I... - He started, but the words escaped him.

How could he defend Naomi? Or even yourself? I was trapped, once again, in the meticulously built wet by Logan.

Logan softened his expression, smoothing Kendall's shoulder as a final gesture of consolation and control.

- Think about it, son. Tomorrow morning, talk to her. Say it's better this way. For her sake. - Logan smiled, the kind of smile a beast would give when releasing the prey. - And for the good of the family.

He then walked away, leaving Kendall on the deck, alone with his thoughts that now seemed to scream inside him.

___________________________________

Lying on the lounger, you gave yourself to the tranquility of that calm morning over the sea. The horizon was vast and silent, with the slight movement of the waves reflecting the sunlight, while a gentle wind brought the salty breeze to you. The distant sound of the seagulls and the swing of the boat seemed to create a subtle melody, almost like a whisper of nature, rocking their thoughts.

That loneliness was exactly what you needed. There were no voices, no presence or interference. Only the heat of the sun spreading through your skin and the clear sky extending above, without any expectation or charge. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply, letting the aroma of the ocean invade your lungs and, as you exhaled, you felt a rare peace settle in your chest.

Instinctively, his hands rested on the curve of his belly, his fingers tracing a light and careful affection. The touch gave you a soft smile, as if you were sharing a silent secret with the being that grew inside you. I wasn't as lonely as it seemed - there was a silent and precious company there, a life that shared that intimate moment, connected to you in a unique and deep way.

At that moment, silence became his refuge. Without family dramas, without the dilemmas that Kendall brought, without Naomi's shadow or Logan's vigilant gaze. It was just you and your son, far from everything and everyone, enveloped by an impenetrable calm. It was as if, for a few precious minutes, the world had stopped to respect this connection.

The silence that followed the confrontation with his own thoughts was abruptly interrupted by the approaching steps. You opened your eyes slowly, letting the heat of the sun caress your skin for another moment, until a smile, soft and natural, opened when you saw who was approaching.

It was his father, in an unexpected version of himself, with casual clothes and sunglasses that, somehow, always seemed to be an extension of his reserved personality. He held a small cup of coffee, the steam rising gently and dissipating in the hot morning air.

- Hi, dear. Have you eaten yet? - His question, simple and direct, brought a feeling of welcome. The way he cared about you never stopped warming his heart, and at that moment, it seemed even more significant.

- I'm still an adult, dad. Don't worry so much. - You replied with a smile, trying to ease a little the tension that was already beginning to form.

His gaze softened, but you noticed that he was thinking of the right words. The silence settled for a moment, the sound of the waves and the wind filling the void between you. Frank seemed to measure his thoughts before finally speaking.

- How are you? - He asks, and the hesitation in his tone made you a little strange. Your father never left hiding his feelings, but there was something different at that moment.

- I'm fine. - His answer was simple, direct, but his eyes didn't move away from him. You felt the need to understand more, to see beyond words. - And you? It looks like there's something bothering you.

He took a deep breath, adjusting to the chair next to him. The gesture was almost imperceptible, but you knew he was preparing for something important.

- Well, yes... - Frank begins, his voice loaded with a concern that he clearly didn't want to show. - I'm really worried about you, dear.

Before he could continue, you interrupted him gently, his tone gentler than expected.

- Dad, we've already talked about it. You don't need to think about it. - You smiled at him, but a part of you knew that he wasn't as calm as he said.

- I know already, but it still bothers me... - Frank straightens up in the chair, his eyes fixed on you, with an expression you didn't see often. He was tense, visibly uncomfortable. - Maybe Logan is right. Kendall needs to start getting real about her responsibilities. You shouldn't carry all this alone.

You sighed and looked away to the sea, the feeling that those words were becoming an uncomfortable truth taking care of your mind. That's what you feared, but hearing that from Frank, still, felt like a blow.

- Does he want to have a girlfriend? I understand that this is something personal, but letting her take this space... - Frank released an exasperated breath, irritation mixing with concern. - And bring her here? For this weekend? It's not being reasonable, for God's sake.

His father's words unfolded as if he was just putting his own thoughts out loud. But deep down, you knew he was right at some points, and the pain of that seemed to deepen.

- Dad... - You interrupted him with a soft smile, getting up slowly, trying to dodge a conversation that already seemed heavier than you could handle. His eyes met his, which were full of a silent concern. As if I were ready to hold her in case something went wrong.

- I don't want to talk about it now, okay? - You spoke with a calm but firm tone. Frank, for a moment, seemed reluctant, but nodded, understanding that you needed space.

Without waiting for more answers, you began to walk away, a sigh of frustration escaping. Your brief moment of peace had been interrupted, and you didn't know if you could recover that.

A few meters away, Kendall said goodbye to Naomi while a smaller boat waited next door, the engines purring softly against the sound of the waves. The climate was dense, almost palpable, and every gesture seemed to weigh between them. Suitcases were carried out of the Roy's yacht, and Naomi watched the movement, holding her own anxiety with a calculated coldness.

Kendall gave him a last look of apology, his hands buried in the pockets of his pants, as if he could protect himself from the discomfort of the situation.

- I'm sorry, it's just that... my father thinks it's better this way, just for this weekend. - The justification came out low, hesitant, Kendall's voice almost getting lost in the soft noise of the sea.

Naomi stared at him in silence, her tired eyes reflecting a sadness mixed with resignation. For a moment, she hesitated before answering, as if she carefully chose the words. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but firm.

- You know you can say no to him, don't you? - Her voice trembled, as if each word carried a weight that she could no longer support. He tried to sketch a smile, but it fell away in the air, fragile, like glass cracking before falling. - Or maybe you just don't want to say no... - Without waiting for an answer, he gave her a last look, a silent goodbye that said more than any word could.

As the smaller boat moved away, Naomi watched the scene with the strange feeling of watching a movie - a story in which she was never the protagonist, just a background figure, without the power to change the script. Kendall stood on the edge of the yacht, her hands still in her pockets, watching her leave with an indecipherable expression. Right behind him, Logan approached and watched the departure from his upper position, his hands also stuck in his pockets, but with a haughty and satisfied look, as if he had just won some subtle and cruel game.

Naomi's boat moved even further away, and her gaze wandered on the deck. She saw Frank standing at the other end of the yacht, in a similar posture, oblivious to her departure. Upstairs, Roman seemed to be in the middle of a joke that made you and Shiv laugh, the three of you oblivious to the silent drama that unfolded below.

At that moment, a feeling of exclusion took over Naomi. The vision of those familiar faces, all interconnected in a web of blood and ancient loyalties, made the truth hit her like a cold and cutting wave. Maybe she had never really fit into Kendall's life; maybe there was never a space reserved for her there, just a fleeting illusion of belonging in a world that, in the end, had always been too closed for her.

A/N: Another one from Ken because he's been my obsession lately, hehe. Hope you like it!

[chaithetics]

Porcelain and the Shark: The Engagement

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) reader

(reader has anxiety, no use of y/n, physical descriptions or other names but does have the nickname Porcelain/Porce - due to family viewing her that way not because of her complexion)

Word count: 4.8K

Prompt: they go to Logan to announce their engagement, he’s pleased that his baby is marrying a “shark” and that she’ll be “taken care of” and that Stewy is joining the family. Stewy is happy to let him believe he’ll be “joining them” when in reality he’s taking her. He’s just waiting for the marriage license to be signed. Shiv is pissed when she finds out her baby sister is getting married before her, finally stops blowing off Tom about moving in together and pushes it forward lol

Chapter warning: 18+ MDNI (smut-free fic) established relationship, fluff, soft Stewy, anxious reader, anxiety/panic attacks, a few f bombs, mentions/allusions to childhood abuse, canonical Roy Roy family being Roys...

Authors note: Sorry for the delay in this one! I've been blown away at the love that the Stewy fics have gotten but it's been so, so, so touching how much love Porcelain and the Shark has gotten and how it's resonated with people. It makes me so happy, I absolutely adore you all and I hope you enjoy this installment! This hasn't been proofread properly (obviously), and I feel like the ending is a bit rough (I really just wanted to get this out haha). Thank you again to the nonnie who sent in the original asks and inspired this! Please do let me know what you all think! Comments, reblogs and asks are more than welcome and very much appreciated!

******************************

Stewy had proposed a couple of days ago and it was perfect, to say the least. He hadn’t bombarded you with a grand gesture, done it in a public space, you’d felt no pressure or anxiety over any of it. The last few days had been spent in a blissful, engaged, Stewy-encompassing bubble. You weren’t quite prepared yet for it to burst by being brought back to the real world and sharing that news with your family. 

There was a family lunch today. You and Stewy had discussed attending that and that being the opportunity to tell your family, then there was dinner with the Hosseinis to share the news as well. You were grateful for that at least. Stewy’s family were much more stable and kinder than yours. They had always been more welcoming to you and had treated you better than your own family had. You knew they’d be happy about the news and Stewy did too, it would be nice to have some family members genuinely be happy about it you thought. 

Connor would be happy without a doubt so that was something. Kendall would be more civil than your siblings but it would also depend on his mood. Shiv and Roman were responses you weren't looking forward to. And well, your father was painfully unpredictable. 

You’re still lying in the bed, wrapped up in the duvet. Feeling content at the idea of never leaving the bed when Stewy comes out of the shower, he smiles at you as he walks over to the walk-in closet and starts to pick out his ensemble for the day. 

“I don’t want to go and tell him.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“Are you regretting this?” Stewy asks somewhat earnestly as he finishes dressing. 

“No, not at all. He’s just scary.”

You didn’t regret it at all, you loved being with Stewy and you were excited about the whole concept of this being another milestone in the relationship. He made you extremely happy and you were in love with him. But you did find your father terrifying and you knew that your siblings would probably find a way to trample on this. You didn’t want to subject Stewy to that and well any venom that might leave your father’s mouth. 

“I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” He quietly promises. 

It's not a cure. Or a perfect solution but it's a reassuring and loving one. It's something.

“Okay.” You whisper, you look up at him as he comes over and puts one of your hands into both of his, they’re warm and soft. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze in his comforting hold and then brings your hand up to his lips to press a gentle kiss there. 

**************** 

There are butterflies floating around in your stomach when you arrive at your father’s penthouse, even with Stewy firmly behind you. As you enter both of you are quickly greeted by Marcia, the perfect hostess, as usual, you can feel the butterflies with every movement and breath and you swear they’re somehow multiplying and bypassing the whole cocoon stage. 

You’re too anxious to carry out a conversation with Marcia that goes beyond the polite pleasantries as even that’s difficult. Stewy carries the conversation which you’re grateful for. Part of his body is pressed behind you and his hand rubs circles gently onto your hip. Marcia immediately notices the anxiety on you. Your eyes are widened and your head occasionally turns when you become startled hearing your siblings argue and jest. 

“Mon chéri, are you feeling okay?” Marcia asks you, you panic for a second tripping over words in your head and nod. Stewy looks at your face carefully, hating that you’re so anxious. It’s radiating off your body like its own energy source and he can feel it. 

“Mmhmm.” You hum nervously and your voice is in a higher pitch than usual as you lean into Stewy a little more. 

“Okay, okay.” She says softly at you. She gives your arm a little squeeze and then walks past you, pretending it’s for the sake of going back to greet other guests in the house but you and Stewy know it’s because of your state and she wants to give you a moment. 

“We can say you’re unwell if you want to go home. We can do this another time.” Stewy murmurs into your hair as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You sigh out, and shake your head slightly. 

“No, no. It’s okay, I think we just need to tell Dad and it’ll go.” He nods and chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before giving you another kiss on the top of your head. 

“Time to find Sir Roy.” He says in a more playful tone, hoping that’ll ease you out of the anxiety cocoon a little and bring a bit of positivity to the tense air that is all that can be breathed in in the penthouse. 

“Are you okay?” Roman asks. 

“Y-yes, yes, yes.” He looks at you, not a single line of belief is etched into his face so you continue with your voice breaking a little. “Yes! Yes, Roman.” 

“You sure? Because you kinda sound and look like the ‘before’ in an ad for Xanax.” His tone’s somewhat playful but there’s a look in his eyes that has concern. It was pretty visible you were pretty anxious and on the verge of a panic attack or you’d already had one. Roman couldn’t tell but his gaze was a bit softer for a moment as he looked at you. 

Roman’s gaze flickered to Stewy for a moment, Roman did think it was a bit odd how quiet Stewy was and wondered if that was a cause for anxiety but you still seemed more comfortable around him than anyone else. 

“Dad?” You squeak out as your gaze locks on your father’s before Roman can ask you another question about your state. 

“Yes, Porce?” He responds looking over at you curiously, the squeak catches his attention. He walks a bit closer taking in a large apprehension in your eyes.  

Logan thinks you look as fragile as ever, his faint-hearted porcelain doll of a daughter is the literal thought he has, he almost says it to you. Stewy sees the thought in your father’s face and it makes him uncomfortable. He hates how you’ve always been viewed as a fragile piece of fine chinaware that needs to be kept on a shelf, locked away almost or else you’re at risk of slipping and cracking which would be twisted amusement to your family. 

“Can we go into the study for a minute please?” You quietly ask as you fidget with your fingers, trying to give him the most pleasant smile you can while trying not to draw attention to yourself, despite knowing it’s useless. 

He looks at you and his brow quickly furrows and then his gaze which is strongly laced with suspicion lands on Stewy. 

“No, nothing’s wrong Dad, just please-”

“What is it?” He asks more firmly, his patience slipping for a moment as he glares at his future son-in-law. 

His attention stays on Stewy before briefly turning back to you for a moment. He doesn’t look or sound impressed. The command in his voice has now caught the attention of everyone else in the penthouse. Their eyes focus on the three of you and you can feel it. 

“Study. Please. Dad.” You breathe out. Stewy begins to start rubbing his hand in a comforting circle on your back. 

“Please, Mr Roy? Just a quick chat about some good news?” Stewy asks as he continues to stand next to you for support. His voice is level, far more confident and assertive than yours. Logan looks at you again, it’s the doe-eyed eyes of his porcelain doll who rarely asks for anything that makes him give in to the request. 

“Oh fuck it, fine.” Logan huffs out as he then walks to the study. You follow behind him and Stewy gives your side a little squeeze as his hand stays on your back. His body is practically pressed against your side as a reminder that he’s here. You try to focus on your breathing and take deep breaths as you head to the study. 

You walk into the study and Logan leans against the desk, raising his eyebrows at you and waving his hands out in a dramatic gesture for you to spill whatever it is. Your heart is pounding so loud, it feels like somebody has gone inside of you to record it just so they can blast it in your ears like an obnoxious podcast. You can tell your father is becoming impatient as you twiddle with your fingers. 

Your hands shake a little and you try to ground yourself with the calming sensation of Stewy’s hand still on your back. His other hand quickly softly holds onto one of your hands, as he fulfils his earlier promise his hand gently squeezes yours. 

“Stewy and I, we’re engaged. He um, Stewy proposed a couple of nights ago. We wanted to tell you first.” You finally get out. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” You're terrified at that response, somehow it feels more chilling than if he'd been vocal with disdain. It's the uncertain nature. Stewy, rubs his thumb over your hand picking up on how you tensed up again. There’s an undecipherable blank look on Logan’s face that makes you want to melt into Stewy. 

“That’s good.” Logan had looked down briefly and now he’s looked back up, his gaze is on you but it then flicks over to Stewy and stays there for a moment. 

“Thank you-” 

“Marrying a shark.” 

“What?” You immediately, sharply blurt out as your eyes widen, Stewy’s eyes widen at that as well and his eyebrows dramatically raise so high that they nearly touch his hairline. 

“No,  I’m glad, he’ll… he'll look after you.” He looks at Stewy, it’s an expression that doesn’t contain disdain but you have absolutely no idea what it is. You quickly think that could be worse. “You need that. I’m glad that you’re taken care of in that way, Porce.” You and Stewy are silent at that but then your father continues again. "Are you pregnant?” 

“No, we’re not. That wasn’t a factor in this sir.” Stewy promptly responds as he looks at Logan. 

Stewy’s trying to be polite like he always is, polite like how his parents raised him to always be. His loving parents that are nothing like yours. He wants to say that you don’t need protecting, everyone knows about your anxiety but that doesn’t make you the porcelain doll or dormouse that they think of and treat you as. That what you have is a loving and respectful partnership of equals not designated roles of perceived weaknesses and strengths. 

But he knows that would sour this moment and that it would make everything worse. You know that marrying Stewy makes it easier to step away even more from your family. In the ways that matter and are more detrimental. It’s something you’re both more than aware of. 

“I can expect grandchildren though?” He asks the question seriously. The question felt prepared and he surprisingly looked almost disappointed in Stewy’s answer, which greatly surprises you. He wasn’t as cruel to Sophie and Iverson as he had been to you and your siblings but nobody would call him a warm and doting grandparent. You find the interest odd to say the least and Stewy shares that opinion as well. 

“Well yes.” You’re a little more at ease but still taken aback at the whole conversation and the nature of this topic is beginning to make you feel a little uncomfortable. “Eventually… That’s the plan…” 

You and Stewy had discussed children and were in agreement about that but it was still a couple of years away at least. The idea of timing was something you’d both agreed on and you were happy with it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited about the idea of Stewy as a father. 

“Good, good. Well, that’s good Porce. Well uh congratulations to you both.” He says it as he appears to be thinking something that he’s not voicing, he appears to be choosing his words carefully but he then gives you a hug.

 “Well, welcome to the family officially, I suppose.” He says as he shakes Stewy’s hand. “You should tell the others, celebratory lunch now, huh.” His gaze is serious but it looks almost content, he’s not looking at either you or Stewy though. You have no idea how to interpret any of that. Then he leaves the study and closes the door behind him. 

“Well-” 

“That was weird.” You finish off for Stewy. He nods at that. As you’re both left in the now silent shadow of your father’s chaos. The study feels a lot more quieter and larger now that he’s gone, almost darker you think. 

“Yeah, it was.” He says as he rests his chin against your shoulder and presses a few soft kisses to your neck. “How are you feeling?” 

“Um.” You pause to think for a moment, you’re definitely less physically anxious now but it’s still there a bit and your mouth feels a bit dry. But you don’t know how to feel, you should feel happy and celebrated by your family in this moment and you know it could’ve gone worse, part of you was expecting that. But you didn’t expect this overwhelming sense of confusion, it engulfs you. “Better. Weird though I guess, I don’t know what to make of that all really.” You answer as you relax into his warm arms. He presses some more soft kisses to you as a response and you lift one of his hands up to your lips to press a gentle kiss there. 

 “I guess we break the news to everyone now?” He breathes out against your neck, it tickles a little and gets a small giggle out of you. 

“I guess so.” You whisper while nodding, even though you want to stay frozen like this in Stewy’s proximity. It’s free of cruel words and unreadable gazes. 

Your father broke the news almost immediately as you and Stewy were out of the study. Marcia congratulated you both and seemed genuinely happy for you. Connor immediately hugged you and he gave Stewy a hug as well. That was sweet you thought and you were grateful for Connor's kindness, Shiv had just nodded at the whole thing which wasn’t too surprising. Something was bound to be said soon you knew. You then saw the glint in Roman's eyes and immediately knew you didn't want to hear whatever was going to come out so you went in search of the wine, even though Marcia had asked some of the staff to get out champagne. Shiv quickly follows you. 

“How did that go?” Kendall asks as he sidles up to Stewy, ignoring the fact that Connor was in the middle of a sentence to Stewy. 

“Well he called me a shark,” Stewy says bluntly as he takes a sip from his glass, watching Shiv follow you and start a conversation. The conversation didn't look too tense yet Stewy noted.  Kendall looks confused for a second as he processes what Stewy said but is brought back as Roman snorts loudly behind them and laughs like a hyena. “So you know, fucking A- considering everything.” Stewy bluntly continued. 

“Fuck, that’s amazing!” Roman says still laughing, Stewy raises his eyebrows and gives him a bemused look. 

"Well, it's you know something…" Connor says noting that Stewy looks impressively unaffected by the moniker. 

"Do you remember when Porce went vegetarian? Marrying a marine apex predator, that's like… just so Greenpeace ally of her!" Roman teases in a feminine vocal fry register. "But hey, congratulations man for joining the gilded cage!" 

"Rome-" Connor says. 

***********

“So what, housewife Hosseini?” Shiv asks as she comes to stand right behind you. 

“Well I’ll be wife Hosseini at least, haven't decided on the rest. Looking down on housewives Shiv?” You ask somewhat innocently while looking at the bottles of wine. 

“You’re going to change it?” She asks shocked, her voice goes up and there’s a look of horror etched onto her face. 

“My name?” You don't dare to look away from the labels, you know the answer, you know what she thinks but you don't want to know what the expression is on her face, you don’t want to see it. 

“You’re not changing it to Hosseini are you?” She's audibly horrified at the prospect her voice heavily tinged with disgust that's clear. “Probably, I don’t know. It’s still early betrothed days.” You answer softly, trying to ignore the anxiety your sister gives you and instead on the love you have for her. Shiv stands back for a second and chuckles humourlessly.

“You’re un-fucking-believable! You know that right?” She exclaims. 

You then look up at your older sister as you pick a bottle up and start pouring yourself a glass. You do it somewhat unflinchingly, which shocks her but she does her best to hide it, you see a glimmer of it in her always piercing blue eyes though. She’s especially surprised as she’d seen how you were when you came in and started the conversation with Logan. 

"Do you want one?" You ask. You're not sure what else to say to her other than that. 

"No- God. Fuck off." Her tone is now irritated and she looks at you for a moment, analysing you like you're a foreign species that's never been encountered before. One that horrifies and intrigues her all at once.  She pauses for a moment thinking over her words. "You know, Tom and I are planning to move in. It's basically all confirmed." 

Her manner is curt, you sense another shift in the tension. It makes your shoulders tighten a little. 

“Oh? That’s great news, Shiv. Congratulations, I’m happy for you both!” You say to your sister and she just continues to analyse you for a few more seconds longer than you’d like so you turn around to walk away with your glass of wine. 

Shiv then goes to talk to your father and you see your brothers talking to Stewy. Tom awkwardly stands on the outskirts of the inner circle that has been formed, it’s typical fashion of your brothers to essentially, completely ignore Tom. You can’t help but feel sorry for the socially awkward, desperate-to-be-liked man. He hasn’t been in the picture as long as Stewy, Rava or Grace which doesn’t help his case either. 

“Hey Tom, how are you?” You ask somewhat quietly as you come to stand by him. He jumps a little at the sudden movement and acknowledgement but visibly relaxes when he sees it’s you. 

“Uh hi, good, good, good. How are you? Well obviously good!” He awkwardly laughs for a small moment and you politely smile at him. “But congratulations! That’s exciting.” He nods while speaking. 

“Thank you! And congratulations to you too!” He smiles at you but his brow furrows a little at that. “About you and Shiv- she said you two are finally moving in?” 

“Oh? Oh! Well, we’d talked about it a few times but she was a bit uh hesitant… I didn’t know… When did she uh say this?” He asks. 

You can see the confusion on his face, a glimpse of detectable sadness. He doesn’t have an issue being this frank with you because he doesn’t view you as a threat or a manipulator. It would be an entirely different and even more painfully awkward conversation if it was your brothers. 

“Just-just before Tom. It might’ve just been good news girl talk before she wanted to chat with you. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah sure. It was probably just girl talk.” He says it unconvincingly, more to himself than you.  

You and Tom both know it wasn’t girl talk. You and Shiv have never done anything like that. It’s clear to both of you that this was some way to try and draw attention away from your news. You know that it’s also linked to the fact that you’ve reached a milestone before her, one that she wishes she’d gotten to before you, especially because of your father’s reaction. It was part of a Shiv mind game because every Roy child was preprogrammed to compete in every aspect of life. But in particular, for your father’s affection and praise. 

“Well um, would you excuse me, please? Thank you.” He says and you nod and then he’s gone. 

"Eating you alive?" You ask with a small smile directed at Stewy as you step closer towards him and your brothers. He shakes his head softly at you and smiles warmly. It’s such a comforting sight, there’s just pure adoration in his features and it’s the nicest feeling. You can’t help but smile widely at him.

Roman lets out another loud, hyena-esque laugh at your question though. "We're the shark meat here." He quips with a large, goofy smirk. 

"You told them?” You question with a sigh while looking from Roman to Stewy.  “He'll never shut up about it! It's going to be a lifetime of shark jokes now." You say to Stewy and he smirks at you with a slight shrug. 

He doesn't really care what they say or think, it's only your voice he actually wants to listen to in this room and only your thoughts that he cares about. Your smile makes a lifetime of bad shark jokes from Roman worth it. As long as you're happy is what he thinks. Stewy also knows that this helps create more boundaries for you and a degree of separation for you to set and maintain more boundaries while getting further away from the haunted house. 

"You could've snuck-swam! Swam in a shark pun or something in there at least. God." Roman responds before walking off to get a champagne flute. 

“Maybe it’s time for you all to swim to the table for lunch?” Marcia says with a smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, especially evident when Roman scoffs at her. 

“So?” Kendall comes over, leaning against your seat as he looks down at you as you sit down. Not everybody is in here yet and his tone is a bit playful but quiet. 

“So?” You ask back, dragging out each syllable. 

“You’re happy with everything?”

“Mmm.” You hum. “Why? If not, you’re going to storm the facilities for a different ring cut?” You ask with a small laugh as you tilt your head to look into his eyes, they twinkle a little as he smirks. 

“Uh-huh. I already have several people on standby, with uh fucking pitchforks and everything.” He banters back. 

“Such an organised and onto-it big brother must be the Capricorn in your chart.” 

“Well, I haven’t prepared for everything.” He says before taking a sip from his drink. 

“Oh?” You ask curious where this train of thought of his is going to go. 

“Still working on a plan to take out the uh groom-to-be if that’s required. Which it’s bound to be at some stage, for my uh sake if not yours.” He teases, your brow furrows at that and he can’t help but laugh at seeing that expression on your face. It reminds him of the shock and grumpy expression that would occasionally plaster itself onto your face as a child. 

“I’ll send you my next therapy invoice.” 

“If any of us kids should be paying for that, it’s Roman.” He says and you both laugh at that and nod. 

“You’re not wrong.” You reply as you look away from him to where Roman stands talking to Grace and Shiv. 

You then slump against the back of the chair and sink down a bit into it and look up at Kendall he laughs at that and then the humour leaves his eyes and they’re more serious as he looks down, hovering over you. 

“You are happy though?” He asks again, his tone more serious than before. You nod. 

“Yes. Extremely” You say as you look up at him and then poke his nose gently with a little popping noise. He rolls his eyes and laughs. 

“So mature.” 

“You’re the one that was offering to off my husband.” 

“It was a uh you know, heads up not an offer. Plan hasn’t been finalised for it to be a formal offer.” He immediately says. 

“Uh-huh. Because that makes all the difference.” 

“You fucking bet it does.” He says before going to take his seat next to Logan. 

************** 

The rest of the lunch had gone surprisingly okay for Roy standards. You were now at the home you and Stewy shared, recuperating from today’s lunch and getting ready for dinner at Stewy’s parents. Fortunately, that would be something that wouldn’t be emotionally and socially taxing at all, especially in comparison to your family’s gatherings. 

You’re in the ensuite finishing getting ready when Stewy comes over leaning against the doorframe, you give him a smile and you can see that he’s thinking about something as he watches you. 

“Wait a second,” Stewy says as his eyes focus on you in concentration. 

“What?” You ask looking at him quizzically. 

“There’s something in your eye.” 

“There’s nothing in my eye?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement as your tone is laced with confusion. 

“Yes, there is. Just wait!” He says sweetly as he comes over with a smile on his face, he plants one hand softly on your hip and the other on your cheek as he looks into your eyes closely, inspecting them. Your cheeks heat up at the intimacy of the touch and the look in his eyes.  

“I don’t feel anything Stewy-” 

“Just wait a second honey, please.” He pretends to get something from your eye that’s obviously not there and pulls it away with a pleased smile on his face. You chuckle a little at that and his smile widens at the sound of your laugh. 

His hand stays on your hip and his other quickly returns back to your cheek, his eyes are on your lips for a moment before they go back to your eyes. The sweetness in his eyes is still there but the playfulness is gone, replaced with just love and affection. 

“What was that for?” You gently prod and he flashes you another smile. 

“You’re just really pretty.” You giggle a little at that and he chuckles as well. “I just wanted an excuse to look at your pretty eyes again close up.” He admits with a genuine smile still on his face as he continues to look into your eyes. Your cheeks heat up again at that. 

“You don’t need an excuse for that.” You whisper while looking at his soft lips. “But that was pretty smooth Hosseini.” 

“Thank you, I’m glad you think so Mrs Hosseini to be.” He responds as he notices your gaze on his mouth. 

He quickly tilts his head and presses his lips against yours as his thumb brushes against your cheek. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck as your mouth opens to invite him in more, deepening the kiss. You continue to kiss, for longer than you probably should if you’re going to get to his family’s place on time. 

You eventually break away for air and he smiles at you, he looks absolutely smitten and that’s how you feel about him. 

“We need to go soon.” 

“Oh?” He asks playfully as if he’s oblivious to the dinner plans. 

“If we want to make it on time, we shouldn’t be late…” He then leans again to start pressing kisses against your jaw and then along your neck. He hums in agreement against your throat at that and you gasp at that. “Stewy!” 

“You’re already Baba’s favourite and I’m his son so I don’t think you need to worry.” He breathes out in between kisses. You giggle at that and nod. 

“Exactly, so I can’t risk that, can I?” You say with a smirk, he sighs out against your neck and it tickles. You gently place your fingers on his jaw and guide him back up for another deep kiss on the lips. 

“I suppose, we can go now.” He says melodramatically before he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“How generous of you.” You say while smiling at him while wiping some of your lipstick off of him. 

[cato616]

NEGOTIATING OVER US (part five)

roman roy x fem reader

note: i know i said this before but don't forget english's not my first language lol i just don't y'all to be disappointed

also: i feel like these are a bit short, so sorry about that, my creativity only gets to a point lmao

summary: you catch roman inside your house, and reasonably get much angry at him, can't see his face any longer.

warning/content: just of what was left of part four, so basically no smut at all here; and some emotional angst on both of you

"what the fuck"

you said to yourself wondering what the hell was on the other side. So you rapidly, trying not to be afraid, put a towel around you and also tucking your head with some other towel too, and very fast you grabbed whatever there was in the bathroom that looked at least like a weapon; then slowly going over the door, putting your hand slightly on it, opening it gradually; as soon you see some humanly figure outside, you instantly tried to jump at him, screaming while having your hand up high about to throw the object/weapon you decided to grab.

"WOAH WAIT!" roman yelled trying to stop you from basically breaking his skull.

You stand completely still, catching your breath, very frustrated.

"ro- ROMAN?!" You couldn't believe what you was happening before your eyes.

Roman was starting to stutter, very afraid of the confrontation and what you would've done to him. "i- if you let me explain, wow um- this is... god". Roman laughs at himself by now having his guard down, taking his palms to his face. "i don't believe this is a laughing matter". You tell him very noticeably furious. "yeah yeah i know that" he says now trying to calm himself down, placing his hands over his waist. "i was, um, leaving your coat, i texted you and-" you interrupted him, your face didn't get to change that much of anger but there was some confusion. "you texted me? no... when?" you thought he was lying, then when he was about to answer your question, you remember the massages you decided to ignore earlier. "yeah the little texts you received like half an hour ago i think?". Anger consumes all over again. "oh, so you texted me? great, that incredibly justified your invasion to here". You still keep some distance from him. "your door, y/n, it was open, okay?"

You were now more confused than before, you peeked over where your door was. "it was, open?" Clearly you felt a bit scared, anyone, people like roman or even worse could've come in, and I wouldn't have noticed. You start to think, while slowly lowering your weapon and sitting on your couch, thinking to yourself and zoning out, pretty much still away from roman. "yeah, so, that's pretty dangerous, i mean, i did entered here" Roman did a terrible joke and instantly was aware of how stupid that was. "you don't get to joke around you little shit". You tell him in a serious tone.

"Okay, let me tell you what happened" You were tired enough to try anything so you let him to talk anyway. "okay so, i did actually wanted to come here, bring your coat, say sorry whatever, and then leave, so when-" you interrupt him. "I'm sorry, say sorry, whatever?, what the fuck is that supposed to mean, I'm letting you explain by the way and you still feel like puking for fucking apologizing to me? are you that scared of feelings?"

"woah.. ummm, shit yeah, no" he didn't know what to say after that. "continue your little story roman" very curious what he has to say next. "... yeah, so, i rang your bell, and so then knocked your door, and it opened-"

"so you said, oh! this is a great idea to jerk myself off! that sounds like you by the way" you mocked him. "no, i actually entered because I wanted to see if there was something wrong-" he isn't serious is he? "oh how sweet romey" You kept on teasing him. He looked at you but didn't care about your tease, he knew it was deserving. "... everything was fine, so i left your coat here (he points next to him where the coat is) and then um... i saw the steam over there, you know" He scratched his head, turning his head to avoid your judgy eyes. Your face changed all over again, although, somehow, you got to feel calmed, weren't much on your nerves apparently.

"honestly, roman, it doesn't surprise me you did what you did, that's usually you, disgusting you know... you're fucked, and since we're talking sincerely... i did, actually... like you, just so you know... but, once again, you fucked it up."

You both stood silently, then you get up from your seat to then go to your bedroom for you to get changed, while roman stayed still where he was, processing this whole thing. You came out of your room now fully clothed and much more comfortable, but of course very unhappy of everything.

You stood right outside your bedroom, leaning right next to your door frame. "so... do i need to call (you shrug) i don't know, the police?... daddy?... so that you can get the hell out of my house?" You said very confident over your own person, knowing that roman wasn't capable of doing anything.

When he turns around, you notice he's tearing up a little bit. "tears, really?." You were currently not trusting his behavior. "i had no idea roman roy was able to feel emotions." You slightly smile, crossed your arms over your chest, kept on mocking him; it's like, you wanted him to feel hurt" You see him lowering his head, feeling blue, he only watches the floor. "i get it, yeah, you're right, i am a fuck up (he laughs at himself again, in a way to cope with his nerves)... i made a mistake". He then straightly looks at you. "I'm going to leave now, so..." he doesn't say anything else, then does what he says, and leaves.

All over again, there's nothing but silence and loneliness inside your flat, like always; but now there's only left, you and your thoughts trapped together.

You get to be yourself again, to feel sad and not seem intimidating in front of him. There was something about him when feeling miserable you didn't want to care about. You hated him, you don't want to empathize to his feelings... however, you couldn't help but to feel your heart ache a bit too strong after it. You didn't know what was good or bad anymore, just more loneliness feeding up on you, leading you to then sobbing uncontrollably, while laying on your bed.

Why him. Why me. I deserve better... but why do i have the necessity to be next to him?... was it really even that bad what he did? of course it was, but it is? He just... jerked off on another room in a distance... am i also a pervert by thinking it wasn't that bad? am i disgusting?... why do i wanted to hug him as well after seeing him like that...

what is wrong with me...

Confusing thoughts were consuming your mind, you couldn't escape them, you just tried to rest while bawling your eyes out, until you fell asleep with puffy eyes and dry tears covering your face.

Tomorrow you'll know better what to do.

continue.

[myxnlyangel]

So I took the bdsm test as if I was Roman and these are his results:

100% Degradee

100% Submissive

90% Pet

88% Voyeur

87% Masochist

84% Primal (Prey)

79% Rope bunny

58% Non-monogamist

40% Slave

32% Experimentalist

30% Vanilla

28% Brat

17% Exhibitionist

0% Ageplayer

0% Boy/Girl

0% Switch