#station queries | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

techtalksfics · 1 year

Text

Headcanons: First Kiss

Authors Note: this is for the anon who sent in this very sweet prompt. I've tried to keep it fluffy but, you know, Crosshair is always gonna linger closer to smut than fluff. All of these will be small headcanon ideas, with small snippets of prose & dialogue. Hope you enjoy!

Tech

How long does it take for it to happen?

Well, this is Tech we are talking about. It takes him a ridiculously long time to even realise you are interested in him. It takes him even longer to realise that you like him like that. When he realises it, he would consult his brothers about it at the first opportune moment.

You'd always tried to show Tech that you truly cared for him. You'd be overly attentive when he visited the medical wing, even if it was just for something as simple as a check-up. The first time you'd treated him, you'd been careful with his injuries, taking your time, talking with him, giggling at his silly comments. His brother's had noticed your gentle touches and twittery giggles at his comments long before Tech did. They just left it alone. Tech would figure it out eventually, right?

Well eventually was a long time coming. It was easily over thirty rotations of your attentive behaviour, of you trying to get to know him, to show him you shared interests. Of you trying to get him interested in you. What you didn't realise is that he had always been interested in you on some level. He just didn't realise what level that was. One evening, the clones were all in there shared quarters, relaxing after another successful mission. Tech had arrived later than the others as he came to say hello to you first.

When he arrived at their quarters, he simply sat for a moment, pondering over his desire to speak to you first. Suddenly he queried why you acted differently with him than you did with the others. Hunter sighed, stopping his expert ministrations with his knife in hand, looked his brother in the eye and tells him, "because she likes you." When Tech frowned deeper, somehow more confused. Surely she liked all you? "She has a crush on you, Tech." Tech stopped fiddling with his comm device to look up at Hunter for a moment. "Perhaps I should discuss this with her," he decided as he stood, speedily exiting the room.

Crosshair, had been lying on his bed, listening to the whole thing. He lolled his head towards Hunter, twirling the toothpick in his mouth from the right to the left side and and muttered, "that poor girl is going to need the Force on her side now."

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Tech. This is definitely going to be Tech. Most girls would probably fear starting something with him unless they were 100% sure he felt the same. As he isn't particularly great with affection, that may prove difficult. But our sweet boy also doesn't have a great filter for his words and sometimes his actions. So I have no doubt that he would be the first to make a move, clumsy thought it may be.

Tech had sought you out after Hunter's revelation or confirmation. He found at your station and the lab was eerily quiet. The perfect opportunity, he had realised. So he simply squeezed your arm gently. to get his attention. You smiled and turned the moment you realised it was him and he smashed his lips to yours with reckless abandon. It was sloppy and fast and not what you thought it would be. But your heart soared regardless.

When he moved away, he explained, "Hunter said that you may have a crush on me. He is rarely wrong on such matters. Perhaps this time he was?" As he searched your face for signs of disgust. There were none. He seemed a little perplexed by the flush on your cheeks. He decided it best that perhaps he leave that moment.

Gentle or Hot Heavy first kiss?

Our sweet boy is always going to be gentle, cautious. Savouring it, even. He had perhaps been a little overzealous to reach out and kiss you like that, it was felt oddly forced. Even for him. But when you finally decide to reciprocate, the main is definitely going to want to savour the experience slowly.

As he went to leave, you quickly grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back. “I didn’t think you even noticed me. I’m sorry, it took my mind a minute. You sort of appeared out of nowhere,” as he opened his mouth to protest, you placed your fingers over his lips, moving closer to him, “how about we try that one again?” You leaned in, holding your hands in the folds of his armour so that he couldn’t retreat. When he felt softness of your lips, the warmth of cheeks and body against his, Tech finally closes his eyes and simply enjoys the sensation. All too quickly for his liking, you pull away. He adjusts his goggles and asks, “would you be partial to doing that again?” That earns a little giggle from you. Of course you wanted to do that again. And again. And again.

Crosshair

How long does it take for it to happen?

On sheer stubbornness of two people trying not to admit to their feelings (or as @littlebluebatbratt and I like to call it, playing a game of emotional chicken™), it's going to take some time. I feel like Crosshair would pair well with someone who could withstand the game as well as he could. So this could go on for a long time. I like to think the right girl would make him drop his pride and give in to her and his feelings.

“You should just cave,” he whispered, as he came up behind you. His breath was hot on your neck. You jumped out of your skin at the sudden contact. His approach had been so silent. You couldn’t help but lean back, flush into his body. He was simply so warm. Your mouth hung open at the contact, a huff of wind escaping you as you rest your head back against his shoulder. Then in a sudden realisation of what you were doing, you lurched away from him. As you began to walk away, you turned to face him, walking backwards and say, “if you want it, you know exactly how to come and get it” A smirk plastered on your lips as you sauntered away from him.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Honestly, this would depend on the woman. As I mentioned above, I think, for Crosshair to truly fall for someone, she would also have to be a stubborn, pain in the ass with just a tad too much physical confidence. They would try desperately to get him to cave first, as much as they wanted to themselves. Eventually, the man would not be able to stop himself. One day, the endless flirting would turn into something more.

“You’re maddening, you know that?” He would say with a groan, he muffled behind his hand, as you softly rubbed your leg up and down his as you sat opposite each other in the mess hall.

“I know,” you said, popping a small bite of food into your mouth, with a smug grin. Suddenly, you would remove your leg and he immediately misses the contact. You move to leave the hall, knowing exactly what you were doing, but you could feel his shadow following you out. Perhaps it was finally time?

Pulling you into the nearest alcove, by your elbow with just enough force, he would simply stare into your eyes, desperate for you. You could see it. You could feel it. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he knew in that moment, as you stared at him with those big innocent eyes, that he had lost. He had fully lost himself in you.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

It’s Crosshair. It’s hot and heavy. Of course. Particularly if they’ve been playing this game for a long time. All of this pent-up frustration would be unleashed into one extremely searing, deep, long kiss.

You would wrap your hands around his neck, the moment you realised he’d caved. You’d pull him in as close as you could, onlookers be damned. He’d have your body pinned against the wall, one knee between your thighs holding you in place as he leans in to kiss you. You place two fingers over his lips, looking deep into his eyes.

“I’m gonna need you to say it first,” you said with a smirk. He sighs looking away from you. Deciding it was time, he looked deep into your eyes, his own were hooded with a deep lust.

“Fine,” he grumbled, not breaking eye contact, “you win. I want you. I want you more than I want to win this.” That was all you needed. So, you yanked his head towards you and your lips met in a sudden and heated dance. It was everything you had been waiting for. His tongue quickly delves into your mouth exploring everything he had been imagining for months. His hands would wind their way into your hair, lifting your lips closer to his. His knee pushing further up into you, until you’re almost rutting on him.

Wrecker

How long does it take for it to happen?

Wrecker is extremely vocal and does not necessarily think a lot of things through. That being said, he’s also our super soft gentle giant. He would probably spend more time trying to kiss than actually successfully doing it. I think he’d be one of the fastest to go in for a first kiss with someone, particularly if they paid him lots of attention. Which obviously, all of us would.

“I just wanna kiss ‘em,” Wrecker moaned to his brothers, his head in his hands at the bar, “but every time I get close, I back out.” He all but slammed his head on the bar. “I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward, Wrecker,” Hunter said dumbly, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “you’re just worried that she won’t return it. But she will.”

Wrecker lifted his head toward Hunter, “how could you possibly know tha’?” It was almost a whine as Wrecker spoke.

“Because she’s not blind,” Hunter said, holding back a chuckle, “she’s spoken to me about it. She wants to know what’s holding you back.” Wrecker sat upright all of sudden.

“You mean, she knows?” Wrecker felt positively sick with the nerves. “Well, no what am I supposed to do.” This time, Tech was the one to respond as he looked up from the schematics in his hand, “well, you could just try actually kissing her.” Tech’s head immediately dropped back down to continue reading. He made it sound so simple.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Wrecker wants to. Boy, does he want to. He wants to whisk you into his arms and kiss you so soundly that you never want to leave his side. But he’s just a bundle of nerves and insecurities under all that muscle. Knowing that you know he’s been trying, only made it worse. In the end, it would all be on you.

“Hi Wrecker,” you said, hopping off the counter of the store you worked at, “how are you?” Wrecker scratched at his neck, almost immediately, mumbling out something about being fine.

“Wrecker,” you said as a plea, when you realised that he couldn’t look at you, “you don’t need to be afraid, Wrecker. Whatever it is you want, you can just tell me.” You placed your hand softly on his cheek, encouraging him to look at you. You knew what it was that was bothering him. It bothered you that he thought you'd even consider rejecting him. His eyes finally pierced into yours, fear covering all of his features. “I – uh – I been trying to kiss you for a while now,” Wrecker stumbled over his words as he rushed to get them out, “but – uh – didn’t know if you’d want tha’.”

“Of course, I want that, you silly man.” His eyebrows shot up high as you smiled at him softly. And yet, he still couldn’t do it.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

It’s going to be gentle, as gentle as he can make it. You wouldn’t want to push him too far, too fast. Hot and heavy could wait. You just needed to get him over the first hurdle that seemed to be plaguing him so fully. You’d gone from friendly banter, maybe some gentle flirtation and some outright cheesy phrases on his part and regressed back to the awkwardness of when you first met.

You hopped back onto the counter, making yourself more level with him. The store was empty, now was your chance. You reached your hand out for him to take and he did so very willingly, you pulled him in between your legs. Cupping his chin, you forced him to look at your smile. “Wrecker,” you whispered so softly, “I want you to do it.” He seemed to debate things in his mind, as best he could. He bit at his lip, wanting to reach in but he still hesitated.

With a small, barely audible sigh, you placed a hand on his gentle and brought his face into yours. The moment he felt your lips on his, his heart soared, and his arms cradled you naturally. You were much smaller than him, so you became enveloped in him. You kiss became firmer, occasionally pulling your lips away to tilt your head a different way. You found his lips followed you whenever you moved. If you leaned back, he leaned forward. If you tilted one way, he tilted the other and held you tighter. Truthfully, it was perfect.

Echo

How long does it take for it to happen?

I think that post-Skako Minor, Echo’s mind will forever have self-doubt and his duty at the forefront. We see both when he is described as more machine than man, percentage wise. So, I think the build-up to the kiss would simply take a long time because he does let himself believe you’d want to.

“You know you’re wrong about her, right?” Rex said to his brother as they sat together post-mission. Everything had been successful. “She likes you.”

“She doesn’t like me,” Echo retorted, taking a sip of the steaming drink in his hands. He couldn’t help but let his eyes fall across the room towards where you were chatting with Gregor animatedly. Both laughing. He couldn’t help but smile at the idea of you liking him at all. God, he loved the way you laughed. The way you made his brothers feel happy whenever you were around.

“Oh, she definitely does,” Rex spoke with a smirk as he watched his brother falling in love from a distance, "and I think you like her too." Echo's head whipped back around to look at Rex, a crimson blush on his cheeks. He took another sip of his drink.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

I fear that it would have to be you. You are the only one that can convince him that you want him in a romantic way. Sure, Rex could try and convince him. As could any of his clone brothers, but they would never convince him enough for him to dare making a move. There were many, many others you could choose. So why would you choose him? Well, you'd have to convince him that your heart had chosen him long ago.

Rex had casually mentioned to you that Echo was leaving to find the Bad Batch, knowing full well what you would do. Honestly, he was a little fed up with the mutual pining.

“Echo,” you called out as you watched him walk away from Riyo Chuchi, it looks like you were catching him just in time. You knew there was nothing you could do or say to make sure he'd keep out of harms way. You now needed their help to save others. So this was your last chance to pluck up the courage you'd cowered away from for so long,“you weren’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye, were you?”

“I – uh – no, well, yes…perhaps?” Each of the words stumbled from his mouth as if chasing one another, pain masking over his features. You placed your hands on hips at that.

“Well how am I supposed to wish you luck if you keep running away before I have a chance?” You questioned him, allowing a flirtatious grin to creep onto your features. He blushed at that, you had such an effect on him, all from two very simple words. Good luck?

“L-luck?” He repeated back. As you stepped closer to him, he tried to steady himself, tried to remain steadfast and strong in your presence. You reached your hands up to his broad shoulders, running them across the coolness of the armour covering his broad shoulder.

“Yes, and luck that is truly good should be sealed with a kiss,” you said as you watched him through your lashes.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

This would definitely be dependent on the circumstances, I’d say it would be a little bit of both. Particularly if it plays out as it does above. Or if it's any sort of goodbye or a hello after a long time. It'll definitely end up hot and heavy if he isn’t certain of his return. If he isn’t certain of your safety. He is going kiss you as if it is both the first and last time, he will ever kiss you.

With your hands on his shoulders, you’d reached up on toes and placed your lips to his softly. Your lips had ghosted over his so gently that he was convinced it had been a dream. And yet, it lasted just long enough for his eyes to flutter closed.

When they reopened, you stood there looking at him doe-eyed, expectantly and with a big grin on your face. With a soft, playful growl, he reached around your waist with one arm and span you around, you giggle all the while. Once he placed you back down, he reconnects his lips with yours with a sense of urgency and fire that shocked you. But you loved it. You loved the way he instantly delves deeper into your mouth. The way he moans into you. The way he kisses you like it was the last chance he would ever have to do so.

Hunter

How long does it take for it to happen?

I feel like the affection would develop quickly. Particularly if it were on Pabu. He feels safe and knows Omega is safe. It’s a community. Everyone is simply getting on with their lives. So, kissing you became one of the forefront thoughts in his mind. When Echo had arrived for support, everything goes a bit awry and his internal timeline for kissing you is made far more urgent.

“She’s something special, Echo,” Hunter said, staring at you with a smile. You were playing around with Wrecker and Omega in the distance. He could hear the melody of your laughter as he leaned into the wall watching you. “If we don’t come back from this, it’s going to hurt her.”

“We don’t have a choice, Hunter,” Echo reminded him, placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder, “she’ll understand.”

“Will she?” Hunter grumbled, entirely unconvinced. But he knew if he were to die on this mission, then he wanted to know what it was like to kiss you before he went. He had settled on that.

Who Instigates the first kiss?

Hunter. He'd already come close to kissing you more than once but he didn't want to rush it and it’s not that you don’t want but you knew he was withdrawn, stoic and more often than not, very serious. You were patient. You could do this on his timeline. So, when he was ready, he’d kiss you. You were certain of that. He often searched your eyes with a hand on your cheek and each time you prepared yourself for the kiss. But the kiss never came. At least, not until Echo had shown up and they were dragged back into the war they’d fled from.

“Hey,” he whispered as he approached you from behind. You were looking out over the balcony into the night sky, simply lost in thought. You knew he was leaving again.

“Hey yourself,” you murmured quietly, without facing him. You felt his presence at your side, though you could not feel his warmth. There was a safe distance between you. His hip dug into the wall as he simply watched you and waited. Waited until you could bear to look at him. He would wait. After a moment, you simply stated, “you are going again.”

“Yes.”

“I may never see you again.” You affirmed, knuckles whitening from your tight grasp on the wall in front of you. You still couldn’t look him at him.

“Yes.”

“But, if you can come back,” this time you turned to look at him, searching the depths of his eyes, “will you?” He reached his close fist to brush against your cheek softly, letting his hand settled at the hair tucked behind your ear. With a smile, he reached in close and whispered, “yes.” Your lips parted with a prickly shudder down your spine as his free hand traced the curve of your spine.

Gentle/Hot Heavy first kiss?

I think the first time would be gentle but sensuous. He would anticipate your needs and would want the depth of his feelings to be felt as he melded his lips with yours. He wanted to convince you of your future. That there could be a future, even though he could never be certain of that.

As he pulled back from his whisper, he did as he often did and placed his hand firmly on your cheek. You knew he wouldn’t pull away this time. This was the last chance either of you would have until they returned. If they returned.

“Don’t kiss me,” you murmured, “if the only reason is that you aren’t sure you’re going to return to me.” Tears began to prick at your eyes as you looked at him.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, raising his other hand, to your other cheek, “because I have to know what kissing you feels like, in case I never return.” He leaned in and brought his lips to yours in a searing kiss, full of longing and passion. You couldn’t help but moan as his strong hands pulled you in as close as he could have you. Your hands wove into his hair, pulling softly at the silky strands. He pulls back, but only to tilt his head from one side to the other before delving in to kiss you again. It seemed to last both an eternity and no more than a fleeting moment.

“If I don’t come back,” he whispered as he pulls away, “just know that you have made me a happy man.” He dropped his forehead to yours, allowing his eyes to close with the affection that coursed between you.

#tbb tech x reader #tech bad batch x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #wrecker bb x reader #crosshair x reader #crosshair bb x reader #echo bb x reader #echo x reader #hunter x reader #hunter bb x reader #wrecker #hunter #echo #tech #crosshair #first kiss #headcanons

1K notes · View notes

vagabond-umlaut · 2 months

Text

it's easy to ferry souls, not carry them

deep down in the realm of the netherworlds, there exists a rower who transports deceased souls from the land of living to the land of dead-

and occasionally lends an ear and a hand, in the event of yet another collision between their weary queen and her just as cheery suitor...

[uraume deserves a raise.]

▸gojo satoru x fem!reader; the tale of kore!gojo & hades!reader w a guest appearance by charon!uraume; uraume is a very nice parental figure to you [ooc!uraume but ehh]; the reader is honestly so sweet and hot-tempered...; the cutest doggy cerberus too is there!!!!; gojo satoru must be his own warning...; uraume does not like gojo [no parent [blood-related or not] actually wld]; fire hazards; 2k wc

▸ i've nvr read percy jackson and wtv i wrote here is based on my shaky knowledge of greek myths and stuff 😁😁 anyways, this header's from pinterest, these dividers are by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls do not plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ belongs to series 'wreaths of asphodel' – same universe as the work 'hey, where is the pomegranate tree?' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

"why is kore so set on marrying me, uraume?"

it isn't the ask itself which causes the rower to nearly lose grip of their oar– but the way it is spoken: soft, solemn and faintly tense. they look away from the endless expanse of the styx before, to find you staring at your reflection in the inky waters, features unnaturally crumpled.

uraume holds back a frown. "has her majesty considered asking the god the same?"

"i have asked him," you mumble, "but i did not receive any conclusive answer in return. the imp was being too vague– must be a trait learnt from those shifty nymphs always sticking to his side."

if your faithful follower detects anything except dislike in your words, they make no mention of it. merely humming as they continue to row the boat, "and may this servant know the question her majesty asked the god?"

"two," you mumble even more clumsily now; they take a beat to grasp it, too concerned by the way you drape yourself over the edge, nearly falling into the water as you say, "i asked him two questions— one, if he loves me; two, if he wants to have children should we get married."

shock must not be uraume's first reaction to these queries, yet it is— and for a moment, it isn't you sitting there anymore.

instead, it is a little girl, no older than seven or eight years, cherubic face fixed in a look of deep concentration and fascination while the rower narrates to her stories from times millennia ago–

only for the child to morph into a young lady– no, goddess– the very next beat... slouched under a regal cloak too heavy for her shoulders, under a royal crown too large for her head... that sweet innocence of childhood nothing but traces now, having been withered by the foul, dirty politics of those damned deities high up on that mountain—

"what answers did the olympian offer her majesty?"

"he said he would love me and sire my children if that is what i want— i asked if he wished anything out of our union— he said all he wanted is to be my husband–"

something between a frustrated sigh and an exhausted scoff erupts from you, becoming an opaque fog the moment it hits the frigid air of the underworld. uraume plucks the oar out the water to come sit next to you, letting the boat be driven by magic.

"you're worried," they state, forgoing all formalities in favour of giving you some much-needed comfort. you never much cared for stations anyways, quite unlike your elder brother, the former king.

"an unfamiliar friend poses more risk than a familiar enemy, uraume," you mutter, resting your head on their shoulder, "why do you think kore wishes to marry me so much, if not out of love or the prospect of the powerful offsprings we might beget?"

"marriage is not solely for love or for procreation," the rower starts to explain, mildly amused before it grows into sympathy at your baffled expression.

ah, they muse fondly, not unlike a parent watching their child witness the world seemingly the first time ever since they learnt to walk, you who presides over something as profound as death yet knows not of the trivialities of life...

"it can also be for many other reasons like–"

the remainder of the words skitter away from uraume— cerberus is playing with gojo.

the fierce guard of the netherworlds, the three-headed hound, loyal and dutiful to a fault: hades' dearest canine companion is frolicking with the god of life in a green meadow, that most certainly was not there so close to the stygian marsh, when they last—

"gojo is laughing," your remark draws them away from their musings, only to find a changed shadow over your countenance— pensive yet not thinking at all; almost as if you too are floating in the stale air of your kingdom akin the soft flower petals...

another ring of raucous laughter pierces the silence, mingled with a delighted series of barks— cerberus is busy licking gojo's face now, the olympian reduced to a puddle of giggles as he scratches behind the dog's ears.

his happiness so clear in the stretch of his grin and the crinkle of his eyes, very much the jarring contrast to the last time—

oh. oh, oh, oh–

"escape," the word leaves uraume in a sudden moment of realisation, as quiet as a breath but loud enough for you to whip your head back to face them, confusion engraved into your scowl. "escape?? what is that supposed to mean, eh?"

the rower feels their lips lift into an infrequent smile. "the god of life wishes to marry you to escape— from his mother, or from his many suitors, or perhaps from mount olympus itself."

"wha– how– hah," you breathe out a disbelieving little huff, "that is simply ridiculous. have you even heard yourself? that is ridiculous."

used to such resistance from yourself, even more from your brother, they move to state their points, only to beaten by you as you persist to speak.

"no one in their right mind will decide to come live in the underworld, no matter how overbearing their mother or insistent their suitors are. have you seen this place? it's too, too unlike the lushness of the earth or the grandeur of the heavens he has experienced. and–" you add, a harsh laugh accompanying it. "gojo satoru is a god. a fish might leave the water— but a god never steps a voluntary foot down that horrible mountain. never."

"but the olympian never truly lived on mount olympus," uraume says once they're sure you've completed your tirade, "and you are a goddess as well. why do you speak so ill of the heavens then?"

"why?" you echo the word. they nod, hoping you take the bait they've intended for you. you do.

"why, because that place is nothing but a shining apple with a rotten core!! everything is polished marble and glittering gold there. people constantly wave at each other, lavishing smiles and praises like there is no tomorrow. everything is so warm and bright— what a bunch of lies and liars!"

familiar fire burns in your aura, the immense heat making the waters erupt into boiling— uraume uses their powers to cool the river down, lest anything disturbs you.

you're too far gone in your rage to be shaken, however, continuing:

"but it never can hide the grime and dirt accrued beneath such shine and sheen. nor the vicious minds and crooked hearts of those deities up above– what lame excuses of gods and goddesses, hah. and you might think me to prefer the light and warmth up there— you will be sorely wrong, my dear uraume!! i much prefer the genuine darkness and frigidity of my beloved kingdom to the faux comfort of the awful mount olympus—"

"is there no possibility the god of life too despises mount olympus for these same reasons, milady?"

you open your mouth and close it, then open it again to let out a very aggrieved whine– momentarily transporting uraume to your younger days. the rower merely chuckles when you punch their arm lightly.

"you're the worst, uraume," you cry, getting up and moving to sit on the other end of the boat. the rower too rises but only to resume rowing the boat by the oar.

"you never spoke this way when sukuna was the ruler— only because his baby sister is the ruler now, and you think she is very stupid—"

"as much as i respect and revere lord sukuna, he wasn't one to listen to anyone else," uraume interrupts gently, "you do, though– which is why i spent so much time telling you this. i hope you did not mind."

"hey, no," you immediately wave away their concern with a wide grin, eliciting a smaller one from the latter, "i could never..."

another peal of laughter and barks rings through the otherwise-quiet. you abruptly trail off, the same conflicting expression from before on your face yet again. though not without a spark in your eyes, uraume notes, almost as if you're slowly learning how to solve the puzzle who is repeatedly offering himself to you.

uraume keeps the silence you initiate, choosing to row the boat while you keep staring at the assortment of hues near the stygian marsh...

until you call their name and declare, an odd firmness in your smile, "well then, it is decided. i shall allow gojo to stay here for as long as the god so wishes to, escaping whatever or whoever he is escaping. and i shall protect him from the latter, should it ever come for him."

a beat. your smile falls into something graver. "would it be better if i swore by the dread water of styx, uraume?"

"uh, um," the rower finds themselves at a loss of words, the first time in seemingly forever, and they have been around since titanomachy– but before they can recover themselves enough to formulate a proper reply, a giggly voice joins in—

"well, if my rose does that, i would consider myself the most blessed amongst all mortals and immortals!"

— and the waters surrounding the boat shoot upwards in a scathing geyser-like jet and steam— the ferocious queen of the netherworlds visibly torn between remorse and terror, as they offer uraume a stiff nod and gojo a horrified look, before vanishing in a wisp of fog.

the boiling waters of the river styx calm down only after a twenty-minute-long struggle by uraume, joined at the very end by gojo.

the latter looks positively delighted, when the former collapses to the bottom of the boat, exhausted beyond belief. "hey, charon. was that a result of your queen getting flustered by me, huh?"

yes, it was. it very much was, the sentences nearly slip past the tired rower's crumbling defences... until it hits them– who they serve, and who they don't.

uraume decides to throw back a glare and a lie. "her majesty was not flustered, lord kore. she was enraged at how you invaded the privacy of her weekly boat ride, intended to make her relax."

"oh, puh-lease," the god makes a face. the rower is certain he would have been punished in the pits of tartarus for all eternity, then some more were he to pursue you this way during your brother's reign, let alone disrespect you thus.

ignorant and insolent, he continues, "in few days time, i'll be allowed into the privacy of her living quarters; what is the privacy of her boat th—"

"you're lucky you did not make such outrageous remarks in front of the queen," uraume cuts him off, none too kindly nor gently, "if you did, her majesty would have certainly burnt you along with the boat to a crisp–"

"i know," comes the defeated reply within the instant. and while gojo is still not in uraume's good graces, the latter decides to notch him a level higher, considering the god of life accepts their queen's powers.

not many do.

he strikes a pathetically pitiful figure, uraume reckons, seeing him sit then slouch on the bench. "was she serious when she said she would protect me?"

your loyal subject nods, certain and solemn. "yes, she was. the queen is never careless when it comes to making promises."

"oh, that's reassuring," gojo says quietly— only to recline even further in the very next beat– an anguished, grating wail tearing from him to the stifling silence looming near the stygian marsh. uraume wonders if it is worth it to steer the boat towards acheron... then push him into its waters of woe...

they decide against it on catching the desperation worn by the god.

for all it is, it might nothing more than a ploy. yet something tugs at their mind to pause and listen when gojo howls, "why does my rose always scurry away after tilting my world on its axis? why does your queen always torment me like this, charon?"

uraume stares pensively at their face in the sacred waters of styx for a while. then heaves a mighty sigh.

certain, this exchange between the goddess of the dead and the god of life will impact not only your and gojo's respective worlds— but the general world and everyone else in it, as well.

did you know, in the actual greek myths, persephone was never called so before her marriage to hades? she got it only after, w the name meaning "bringer of death". her initial name was kore, referring to her being a maiden & the spring goddess.

the river styx was called the "dread river of oath" by homer– in both the iliad and the odyssey [greek epic poems], swearing by its waters is the "greatest and most dread oath for the blessed gods" -> this shows how serious the reader is towards ensuring gojo's safety and freedom, and how deeply this affects gojo as well [source: wiki 😇]

also: the reader is totally ready to jump into the water to swim away when she realises gojo was listening in on her conversations- but then she remembers she can js vanish away and so she does js tht— the queen of the underworld, and of escaping, hehe

also also: the reader is slightly jealous when she is talking of the shifty nymphs always sticking to gojo's side. [uraume identifies it; you think it is js your usual dislike to such frivolous things and ppl as flowers and nymphs etc.] [hades is emo imho 😊]

▸ masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

209 notes · View notes

is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not · 8 days

Text

> message recording begins: "All right, so, uh, I'm here. ... Nah, that's not enough... (clears throat)

I'm Savannah "Fursona" Caruso, leader of the Fursona's Fusiliers mercenary unit. You may have heard of us, but if not, it's understandable; we haven't done all that much since Fortress Republic and The Wall went up. Fought in the Battle of Terra, I guess that's notable. But most of our success was prior to the Republic, the 4th Succession War, the Clan Invasion, the Jihad.

As far as size, the Fusiliers are roughly two RCTs in size - 72 Mechs, 72 Combat Vehicles, 12 AeroSpace Fighters, a battalion of PA(L) "unarmored" infantry, a battalion of Battle Armor infantry, and two platoons of Space Marines. Got ourselves two modified Colossus class DropShips, and our pride and joy, the Argo. Relic of the first Star League, civilian exploration vessel. She's got her very own Grav Deck, and is the only DropShip with the MCDS, Multiple Collar Docking System; lets us attach two other DropShips to the Argo, and daisy-chain 'em along through a jump.

I've been asked by... heh... Commanding General Hazen - seriously, Mysty, wow, talk about a promotion, huh?

Anyway, I've been asked by her to "make myself available for queries or interactions". We've gotten settled in here in the Islington system finally - heh, hard to find the Argo a big enough docking berth on the station...

In any case, you wanna ask me stuff or come talk to me, I'm free and clear. Just look for the busty muscle mommy wolf-chick in a silver one-piece heeled jumpsuit. I'm kinda hard to miss.

- Commander Savannah "Fursona" Caruso

#battletech #mechwarrior #story event #oc rp #oc lore

399 notes · View notes

visit-new-york · 1 year

Photo

Unlocking the Allure of Brooklyn Bridge Park: A Comprehensive Guide for Explorers"

Brooklyn Bridge Park, a gem nestled along the East River, stands as a testament to urban innovation, providing both locals and visitors with a stunning retreat. As you contemplate your visit, a cascade of questions might fill your mind. Fear not, as we embark on a journey to unravel the wonders of Brooklyn Bridge Park, addressing the queries that pique your curiosity.

Is there a cost to enter Brooklyn Bridge Park, or is it free for visitors?

One of the park's most enticing features is its accessibility—it's absolutely free! Brooklyn Bridge Park welcomes all, offering a respite from the bustling city without burning a hole in your pocket.

How can I access Brooklyn Bridge Park, and is there parking available?

Conveniently connected, the park is accessible by multiple modes of transport. Subway enthusiasts can alight at various nearby stations, while drivers will find ample parking options nearby. Whether you arrive by train, bus, or car, the journey to this urban oasis is as delightful as the destination itself.

Are pets allowed in Brooklyn Bridge Park, and are there designated areas for them?

Four-legged companions are more than welcome, making Brooklyn Bridge Park a haven for pet owners. Leash laws are in effect, ensuring a harmonious coexistence between humans and their furry friends. The park even boasts designated areas where pets can frolic freely.

What are the best spots for photography in Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Photographers, rejoice! The park offers a plethora of picturesque locations. Capture the iconic Manhattan skyline from the Pebble Beach, or frame the majestic Brooklyn Bridge against the setting sun from the Empire Fulton Ferry section. The possibilities for Instagram-worthy shots are endless.

What are the key attractions within Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Prepare to be enthralled by an array of attractions. From the impressive Pier 1 with its lush lawns to the tranquil gardens of Pier 6, each section tells a unique story. The famed Jane's Carousel, housed in an architectural masterpiece, is a must-visit, as is the renowned Brooklyn Bridge itself, standing proudly as the park's northern anchor.

How did the idea for Brooklyn Bridge Park originate, and when was it established?

The roots of Brooklyn Bridge Park trace back to community activism in the 1980s. What began as a vision to revitalize the waterfront burgeoned into reality in 2010 when the park officially opened its gates. Today, it stands as a testament to community-driven urban planning.

What recreational activities are available for visitors in Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Whether you're an avid sports enthusiast or a leisure seeker, the park caters to all. Engage in a game of basketball, try your hand at kayaking, or simply bask in the sun on the expansive lawns. The park hosts fitness classes, cultural events, and recreational sports leagues throughout the year.

Are there any family-friendly amenities or play areas within the park?

Families are in for a treat! The park offers playgrounds, water features, and a wealth of family-friendly programming. Spend quality time with your loved ones at Slide Mountain or embark on an adventure at the Water Lab, ensuring smiles for both the young and the young at heart.

Are there guided tours or educational programs offered at Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Delve deeper into the park's rich history and ecology through guided tours and educational programs. Knowledgeable guides unravel the layers of the park's past, present, and future, providing an enriching experience for visitors of all ages.

What are some of the popular dining options or food vendors in or around Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Savor diverse culinary delights from food vendors scattered throughout, offering everything from artisanal treats to international cuisines. Alternatively, nearby DUMBO and Brooklyn Heights boast a plethora of eateries catering to every palate.

In conclusion, Brooklyn Bridge Park is not merely a destination—it's an experience waiting to be embraced. Whether you're a local seeking solace or a visitor eager to explore, the park's dynamic offerings are sure to leave an indelible mark on your memory. So, lace up your walking shoes, charge your camera, and set forth on an adventure like no other!

863 notes · View notes

gear-station-official · 11 months

Note

how many trains go through gear station on average?

Many.

#Depot Agent Glass #station queries

24 notes · View notes

hydrangea-mon-amor · 7 months

Text

Yandere Vampire

Yandere Male! x AFAB! Reader

Trigger warning! Yandere behavior, obsessive behavior

A/N: Okay it’s been like…a couple of months since I last updated a fic (sorry about that) but I couldn’t help but write this idea down, it has been plaguing my mind ever since I had thought of it. (Which was literally a few hours ago…) anyways, no official title because I’m not sure if this will be a permanent character but please do enjoy the story. (If you can)

Summary! You acted stupid and went into the only Forest you shouldn’t have gone into, to your luck (if we can even call it that) you ran into the Duke Osborne who has insisted you stay the night in his manner lest you be a pray to the creatures roaming in the forest. (He is the creature btw)

Side note — if you read the trigger warning and still were triggered by the content (or any that I’ve wrote) please message me ASAP and tell me about it. I DO NOT condone this behavior.

Duke Osborne sits in front of you,

You mentally curse yourself, you just had to have ignored your fathers wishes and ventured pass the safe grounds of your home. The breath you wish to let out protest against the folds of your lips. You expected some sort of activity to occur in the forest, but you hadn’t expected Lord Osborne to be there as well.

his hands lay comfortably on the table, you sat in apprehension.

“I hear you are the Barons offspring? Such a shame I hadn’t been blessed to see your visage sooner.”

“Duke Osborne—“

“Please, no need for civilities here. Address me casually, just Aloysius is fine.” He tosses a smile, the dazzle of his eyes gleaming down at you. It is peculiar, you don’t think he looks at you as if it were antagonistic, but you couldn’t help but feel cornered.

“Aloysius…you are very kind to allow me a room at your estate for the night, I appreciate it very much.”

“Do you now?”

You gulp.

“Y-yes, since I am the offspring of only a Baron and nothing else, I am not used to, nor think, that I am deserving of such catered treatment.”

The Duke frowns.

“Not deserving?” His query comes out like that of a saddened child, you fiddle with your fingers, unsure of how to answer such a tone.

“Well I…” you straighten your posture. “I don’t mean to speak negatively about myself, but it is common knowledge that the power a Baron or Baroness holds is not that of a Duke or Duchess. I know my station in society, and know of the role I must fit into to adequately play it. It is of no inconvenience to me, so really, a Duke such as yourself shouldn’t be worried with frivolous matters.” Aloysius twirls the spoon in his tea. He has a specific analytic gaze to him, one you feel positively scanned by.

“Is that all? Don’t you feel some sort of resentment for the way society looks down on you compared to other nobles?”

“I do not care for that lifestyle, if I can be happy in life, then that is all I need to be contented.”

“Even if you were as lowly as the offspring of a bastard.”

“Even then.”

He takes a minute to compile his thoughts, but as quick as one would imagine, he resumes his air of chivalry and charm.

You jolt, not expecting for the Duke to clasp his hands quite loudly that it echoed throughout the dining room of his estate.

“Very well then, you amuse me Y/N.” You look at him quizzically.

“Apologies, I don’t think I ever gave you my name.”

“You didn’t have to, I know the names of every resident in this estate.”

“Resident? Pardon me Aloysius, but I am merely a guest.”

“Of course.”

The Duke continues on with his meal, glancing at you a couple times to make sure you had your fill. You can’t say you quite enjoy the Dukes presence, but you do appreciate his effort in assuring your comfort.

This quiet would not last.

“I wonder, do you know of the tale spoken for the Forest of Naught?”

You chuckle uncomfortably, “how could I not?”

It was impossible, you thought, for a child of this kingdom to have not heard it. It’s rhymes are Ingrained to the child it passes over to, until it passes on to the next, and then to the next and on and on it goes.

You can recite it by heart.

In a forest called Naught, where darkness reigns,

Existing creatures man cannot rid nor tame.

A plague they are, with fangs as sharp as knives,

Skin pale as moonlight, eyes aflame with red.

Their feast, the tender essence of your blood,

Teeth sinking deep into sweet flesh so raw.

No care for you, they crave the crimson flood,

Their only longing, for your lifeblood's draw.

These creatures possess powers to deceive,

Morphing their form to appear just like us.

But in reflection, true nature they conceive,

A ghastly visage, causing hearts to fuss.

They shun the light, abhor the sun's bright beams,

Yet thrive by night, fulfilling their dark dreams.

In shadows deep, their wickedness takes flight,

Within the veil of night, their hunger stirs.

No mercy shown, no solace in their sight,

They prey upon the innocent, like curses.

“What is your opinion of it?”

“My opinion?” You take a while to form an answer you’d think he would respond best to. “Well, I think it is definitely something the children could be frightened by—“

You believe you are dreaming, the Duke, Aloysius Osborne, is laughing.

“The children? Truly, a forest as mysterious as this and you think of the children?” You do not think the Duke capable of shedding tears, but here’s he is now, wiping away the tears forming at the baseline of his eyelids.

“I stand by my statement.” Your arms press forth on the table. “Those creatures, whatever they may be called, it’d be horrible if they feast on innocent children.”

“I suppose so, but not every child is innocent.” Aloysius makes motion for a glass of wine to be brought, and it is like magic how a servant is already to his aid. You watch tenderly, eyes fixed at the action in hand. In your opinion, the wine looks a little distasteful. Too red, you thought, but you had not the reason to speak it aloud.

“I would offer you a glass but this wine isn’t any that you have tasted before, I can assure you this.”

“Really now?”

He inclines his head to a nod, “not as sweet as regular wine, tastes quite like iron to the normal civilian, but what can I say? I have an expensive taste.”

You shift in your seat “Well, Duke, my interest is piqued.”

“No civilities!” He whined, almost knocking the glass in the process. Having realized what he had done, he is quick to manage himself. “Apologies, I as an individual simply just abhor honorifics.”

Liar.

“Please just address me by my name, it’ll please me greatly.”

“Excuse my negligence, I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

For the remainder of your meal, you dine uncertainly. The food you taste is exceptional in taste, but it almost feels bland. You can’t say you would feel any better with the Dukes gaze looming over you like a watchful hawk. Can’t to think of it, why did the Dukes eyes appear more red than his normal chestnut hue? You can’t point the science behind it. And perhaps it is just your wishful thinking, but you never noticed, or thought, the Dukes skin to be so naturally pale. Frankly, it’s color is akin to that of moonlight.

What an odd thing to note.

You say not a single word to him, growing apprehension if he’d take the word and turn it into a working conversation. Even though you are the child of a Baron, and have been educated, you still are not quite adept to socializing compared to your peers.

That is until you start to feel drowsy.

“Please excuse me, but I fear I am succumbing to sleep. Could you please walk me to the room I will be sleeping in for the night?” Without a word, Aloysius rises to his feet, discarding the remainder of his meal. It is odd, for such a lofty meal he managed to finish each glass of wine he obtained.

You wondered why he hadn’t touched the garlic at all…

“Of course, follow me.”

You stand, dusting off the dirt that remain on your clothes. You look at him, and take note of how precisely he is gazing at you.

You shake off the feeling.

You arrive at his side, and generously, he leads you without a word. But you must be honest with yourself, the whole time you ventured through his walls it had almost felt like the phantom touch of a hand was latching onto you.

He yawns, you believe sleep has anchored him too.

“It’s such a shame.” He whined. “I would have loved to dance with you in my ballroom.”

“Aloysius there is no need—“

“I protest. You know full well that my family, Osborne, has danced with the guest of their house before they leave for the night or leave for home. I’d be disrespecting tradition if I hadn’t had even one dance with you.”

Flattery will do you no good.

“I have never been instructed.”

“Pardon me?”

You hesitate, “dancing, it has never come naturally to me and my family hadn’t harbor the sufficient funds to acquire a teacher. But considering my prowess regarding the art, I don’t think I’d be of any good even with the paid help.”

“You can always learn.”

“And with what help, if I might ask?”

“With mine, naturally.”

Your cheeks dust red.

“I cannot trouble you like this.”

“It is of no trouble, please share just one dance.”

In high society, people would think you frivolous if you were to refuse the good natured will of a Duke, considering your title as the child of a Baron, you have no societal standing to reject him. In other words, you are completely and utterly trapped.

“I suppose one would do adequately.” The Duke smiles at you, and perhaps you hadn’t seen him enough in all the parties you were fortunate enough to attend, but he didn’t look as happy and content as he did now.

Oh.

You squint.

Why did the front of his teeth look more like protruding canines instead of regular molars?

Whatever, forget it.

He leads you to his ballroom, the scenery draped in blood red curtains and the floor a sinister black. The area exudes a treacherous aura but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enticed.

It is practically instantaneous that music started to flow into the room. You can only guess that he intended for this to happen from the very beginning and had a servant stationed here for the time being.

“Do you mind if I call your name with a term of endearment?”

You’re startled.

“Your pardon?”

“You know, how wedded couples address each other. Love, darling, sweetie?”

Dread builds in the pits of your stomach.

“Please—I must protest! We have only been acquainted with each other for a few hours!” The Dukes lips purse into a frown.

“Is this your rejection to my proposal of us becoming friends?”

“My Lord—I mean, Aloysius, you must realize that friends don’t simply just refer to each other with such…compounded words!”

There seems to be a looks of realization smearing onto his face.

“Ah, so you mean to tell me that only wedded couples do so?” You exhale, relieved that he is starting to come to sense.

“Right then, apologies with my forwardness.” He hasn’t looked sympathetic at all.

“It’s quite alright.

Aloysius seizes the lead, you think it abnormal, how elegantly he moves through the dance. His long and graceful body forces you to admire it.

“I must confess I was lying.”

Your eyes widen.

“And what what would that be, exactly?”

“I lied to you when I eluded to the fact that I never got the pleasure to see your face. In actuality, I have seen it quite a few dozen times.” You try not to make the stilling of your body too noticeable. “My sister, Duchess Akosua, you may have heard of her, has helped me greatly in seeing you.”

You try to be careful and strategic with how you phrase you sentence.

“In what way, if I may ask?”

“You sleepwalk, Y/N. On many occasions you would wind up in the heart of The Forest of Naught.”

Now, you do not care if it is obvious of your body stilling.

“Of course, you must ask why I had been there too, especially since you sleepwalk quite often.”

You gulp. “H-how often?”

“Ah, I’d say three a four times a week.”

Impossible….

“Y-you were there? Every time?”

“Yes, yes I was.”

You start to hyperventilate.

“B-but why?”

Aloysius looks at you, and it is the kind of look most similar to that of admiration.

“You are just too adorable.” He adds, unable to contain his smile. “But if I were to answer your question…” He leans down, his head level to your ear, and his lips level to your neck. “It is because I am one of the creature of the forest.”

You cry in pain as he bites into you.

You wake in a soft bed, your neck throbbing and your body in only undergarments.

Your eyes widen.

By your side is Duke Aloysius Osborne, his eyes a chilling red and fangs protruding from his lips.

“Ah your awake, how splendid!” He speaks to you as if you are a revered treasure. “For a second I feared I drank too much blood from you, good to know that it was just enough.

“I…I…”

“You must be too frightened, considering your incapability to speak. Don’t be worried, I have decided that you are too precious to discard.”

You force yourself to answer.

“W-what—what do you mean?”

“I mean that I am taking you as my spouse.” He smiles kindly, lending a hand to caress your cheek.

You shiver.

“No need for embarrassment my darling rose, I intend for us to be deeply aquatinted with one another.”

—

A/N: okay, I hope this story was enough to suffice for the next couple of days before I release the next one. I do intend to come back and post more actively, sorry for the long hiatus. Also the poem from this story was generated from an ai (lmao) have a good day my loves.

#yandere #yandere blurbs #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere original character #yandere x you #obsessive #original character #reader x yandere #yandere x reader #yandere vibes #yandere oc #yandere vampire #afab reader

366 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 1 year

Note

Scaramouche & "have you ever been in love? Do you... love me? What am I to you?"

"What you are to me...?"

Scaramouche repeats the query aloud, as if he were the one questioning you, not the other way around. He pauses midstep — his prior lecture about how you’ve been too friendly with the Fatui agents stationed to guard you dying on his lips — his mind wandering elsewhere.

To the first time he saw you, how his eyes refused to glance anywhere else, lest he miss anything. How he felt an invisible pull that both intrigued and irritated him. Then the long weeks of observation that soon bled into months. The way you took him at his word when he claimed to be a forlorn traveler, going the extra mile and showing him to his supposed destination yourself. The preplanned ambush where you, a weakling, surprised him by throwing yourself in harm’s way to keep him safe.

Foolish, is the word he thought then. It is also the word he thinks now. Foolish, and something I must have for myself.

He peers down at you with a scowl. “You are a hindrance. Always smiling, always trying to see the good side of things... it’s pitiful, really. You’d rather delude yourself and live in a fantasy than accept things for how they really are.”

“Unforgiving,” he bends down, “cruel.”

He takes your chin in his hands. “Beyond saving.”

Scaramouche doesn’t notice how his hands tremble, but you seem to.

“I love you as much as a being without a heart can,” comes his quiet confession. Then a humorless laugh that grates the ears. “Look at what good that’s brought you! For every act of kindness you’ve shown, my malice doubled and swallowed it. Because I...”

Scaramouche’s voice cracks there — you take it upon yourself to fill in the blanks.

“Wanted to be saved,” your hand comes to rest atop his. There’s pity in your eyes that makes him want to claw his own out, if that means he’d never have to see it again. “But you never were. Not in time, at least.”

Though he longs to touch you, he wrenches his hand back, suddenly finding that the warmth of your skin makes him burn.

Eventually, he composes himself to speak once more. The words lack his usual bravado and come out flat.

“Indeed. What you are to me... is a reminder. Of how things could’ve been had I only met you sooner.”

#i made myself sad............... POGGERS #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #scaramouche brainrot #interactions #my stuff #answered #Anonymous

2K notes · View notes

songsofadelaide · 7 days

Text

There was a travelling market selling foreign goods in your city. The little corner of festivity was brought along their prince's journey to this land.

Apart from your city's trade, the streets were bustling with activity from the travelling market too, so much so that the kingdom had to station local guards in the area to keep the peace and order. Upon hearing your family's maids' excited chatter about the place and all of the outlandish things for sale there, you couldn't help but want to go, too.

But a lady of a noble house should not be there. It was against your better judgement, but there must be some curiosities there that would sate your growing, thriving pursuit of knowledge— before your parents decide to give you away to some stranger from a strange land.

"My l— I mean, miss! Look over here, they have tomes that might be of interest to you!" One of your maids gently pulled you by the arm, causing you to bump into someone in the crowded street.

"Ah—"

The man with the piercingly haunting bright blue eyes turned in your direction, catching you before you could hit the ground.

Even dressed in a more subdued manner, someone with an eye for fine things will notice that you aren't like the ladies who accompanied you.

"Oh, my apologies, good sir, I—" Shoot. Your manner of speech—

"The way you carry yourself gives you away, my lady. What's a noble girl like you doing here?"

The man was dressed in Imperial garb, a lovely fur poncho over his fine clothing, his silver hair tousled by the pleasant breeze that swept through the busy streets. He was a foreigner, but strikingly handsome.

"Shouldn't you be preparing to meet the Imperial Prince Satoru?"

The tender smile that graced your face left so easily following that question. You scoffed at the stranger before allowing a small laugh to leave your lips. "I don't want to try so hard to please someone I've never met."

Oh, there you go again with your mouth. But oddly enough, the smile found its way to the handsome stranger's face. "Is that so? I suppose you'll have all the time in the world to get to know him..."

"Personally, I am more interested in whatever books this caravan brought along with it. If you aren't busy, good sir, might you accompany me and my, um, fellow ladies for the rest of our excursion? Surely you know the best places to purchase items..."

He chuckled, evidently amused by your sudden request. He tenderly took your gloved hand in his larger one and brought it to his lips. "Gladly, my lady."

The man patiently answered your every query. When you passed by a stall selling lovely miniatures of Imperial tourist spots and sceneries, you related to him how you had to pose for an uncomfortable amount of hours to have your own miniature portrait painted, only for it to be shipped off to the foreign Empire without a word of thanks from the Imperial family, or whoever received it. Not that you really cared.

He seemed to be so amused by your every quip judging by his gentle laughter. "I'm sure whoever received your portrait was truly pleased."

The man escorted you and your ladies back to your estate and bid you farewell, but not without a promise of meeting once more. How, you didn't know and did not bother thinking too much about it at all.

And when the day the eligible women of the kingdom were set to meet the Imperial Prince came, every other lady's graceful smile faded the moment he stepped down from the king's side and took your hands in his.

You were right about one thing. The moment your eyes met the silver-haired foreign prince's bright blue eyes.

You didn't have to try so hard at all.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's prompts 🎠#jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #this is so bridgerton core lol #bridgertoncore #bridgertoncore or something similar #royalty au #jjk royalty au #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

83 notes · View notes

catboyfurina · 10 months

Note

∞

Oh, I'm burning through the sky, yeah Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit this one has not very varied lyrics sorry sjdhfsj

#query #its dont stop me now but i suspect u knew that sjdhbsbfds queen is Very popular #i just put all of my pandora stations on shuffle i expect the next one will be selena gomez or wicked #i Did start with charming disaster radio before remember shuffle all exists sdjdfhssfdj

1 note · View note

ichorai · 7 months

Text

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

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

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

words ; 14.4k

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

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, talks of sexual misconduct (cruises incidents), mentions of death, a lot of sexual/suicidal jokes and general foul language, a lot of business talk, roman’s implied demisexuality, kendall is Losing it this chappie, fucked up family dynamics, imaginary dead cats & real dead sisters <3

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

series masterlist. main masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” asked Shiv.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Obviously not, dad,” Rome said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we cooperate?” asked Logan.

There was a brief moment of puzzled silence.

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

“Unless we don’t,” Roman cut in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You destroy Kendall, it falls apart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words made your expression falter just a little bit.

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

“What do you want?”

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

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

“Is it true?”

“What?”

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

A brief pause.

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

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

A longer silence.

“No,” he finally said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not so sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They stared at him blankly.

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

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

“Who else?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d you hear?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

Then, he called his father.

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

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

“Sure.”

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

“Mhm.”

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

A long silence.

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

He winced.

“Mmhm,” was all Logan said.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” asked Roman. “What’d he say?”

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

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

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

That kept the rest of your complaints quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm. Can I join?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Uncle Logan.”

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

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

“Go on.”

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

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

“Mhm,” Logan said.

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

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

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

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

“Bye, Uncle Logan.”

“Sleep well.”

With that, the call ended.

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

It’s me, it said.

Another one pinged through a minute later.

Shiv blew it with Lisa.

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

You shot her a reply.

Congrats, Gerri. I’m glad it’s you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right. No agenda.”

“How is he?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here looking for you,” said Rome.

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I spoke with a lawyer—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s here,” said Jess.

“What? Who?” asked Roman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. Utter silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice fucking guy, huh?” Rome chortled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was an overreaction!” she exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Rome?” he asked. “You okay?”

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

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

There was a pause. Then the door swung open.

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

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

“You okay, Rome?” Connor asked again.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

You narrowed your eyes. Knew?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did we fucking know?” Roman asked.

“Yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat of silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman hummed, but he said nothing more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On you guys!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Busy fucking bee,” Roman snorted.

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

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

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

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

Connor smiled. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both you and Rome made noises of surprise.

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

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

“What? And you could?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely,” Roman said.

“Yeah,” both you and Connor mumbled.

With that, she left the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A terse silence settled over the rest of you.

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

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

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

“Hey, fuck you.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you’re a prick!”

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

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

“Uhm… pass.”

“Pass? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you, plastic Jesus.”

“You’re a fucking twat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t trust you,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded. “Home.”

“Will you stay over?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wordless, Logan nodded once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think that sounds reasonable,” said Gerri.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With that, she stepped away to call Logan.

“Is she gonna fuck us?” Shiv asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s Sandi.”

“Which one?” Connor asked.

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

With one final sigh, she hung up the call.

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

“What? No!” Roman protested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad?” Roman asked.

The older man was silent for a long time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you think? Yes or no?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan nodded, mumbling incoherently beneath his breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s gone mad,” Shiv blew out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can he give his speech?” Karolina asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With no time for anyone to reply, Hugo hustled back to the group, expression twisted with uncertainty. “Uhm… he’s concerned there is a dead cat under his chair.”

Everybody blinked, clueless.

“Great,” said Shiv. “That’s great.”

“Well, is there anything under his chair?” Gerri whispered, ducking her head to check herself.

You stared at your godfather from afar, watching as he vehemently gestured down below his seat.

“He says that, uh, he doesn’t want Rose to see it,” said Hugo. “And he wants Colin to take it out.”

Rose. The name sounded familiar, something you’ve surely heard in passing, but you couldn’t quite place who she was.

Clearly, Roman was beginning to grow more and more agitated, and he gritted out, “Fine. Have Colin take it out. Jesus Christ.”

Finally, Kerry arrived, hurrying to grab her bag, mumbling something about doctors and pills and secrecy. As if to make it even worse, Kendall appeared out of nowhere, and Shiv let out a long and loud string of curses.

“Great—hey, who invited you?” Roman sneered at his older brother.

Kendall ignored him. “What the fuck is going on? He’s squashing the fucking deal?”

“It’s fine! It’s fucking fine—we got it under control,” Roman vehemently pressed, though it didn’t sound too convincing with Logan in the back yelling for the cat to be carried away. The cat that didn’t, in fact, exist.

“You have to turn this around right now!” Kendall yelled.

“We’re figuring it out,” Shiv told him.

Logan screeched again and grumbled incoherently, shifting on his chair.

“What—what the fuck is going on with him?” asked Kendall.

“The doctor’s coming, Ken,” you tried to reassure him, but he shook his head.

“No, no, I want to know what’s wrong with him!”

Colin hurried away with an empty box—supposedly holding the dead cat. A part of you wondered if this dead cat was a distant memory from Logan’s past. Maybe he was trapped in a fragment of time he could never quite move on from.

“What is that?” Kendall took a few steps to follow after Colin, but halted to look back at his siblings in utter confusion. “Guys, what—?”

“Can you just leave, please?” Roman hissed. “That is an imaginary cat, now can you please fuck off?”

Raising his voice, Kendall addressed the entire group, voice stricken and strained, “Listen to me very carefully. This is you throwing it away. You think they’re bluffing? They’re not fucking bluffing! And you’re putting everything I have fought and bled for on the fucking edge and I am not gonna let that happen! Do you understand me?”

“You’re not welcome here,” Shiv said, cold. “You have no right to be here.”

“Fucking fix it!” he yelled. Kendall sounded like his father.

“You may go! You’re excused!” Roman told him. “Thank you very much for your concern, please go.”

You and Connor stayed silent, watching the other three scream at each other.

“Go! You’re fucking delusional!” shouted Roman. “There’s a fucking delusional man leaving here!”

Kendall began to walk away, but not without screaming back, “Figure out a fucking doctor or I’m calling mine!”

“Thank you so much for your concern, like you give a flying shit!” Roman spat back. “You probably slipped him something, Putin! You piece of shit! Fuck off!”

It was a game of tug-of-war, and both sides were backing into a cliff’s edge.

Roman was taking out his frustrations and his fear onto his brother, and you stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest.

“Hey, Rome, that’s enough. He’s—he’s leaving, okay? Bye, Kendall.” You brushed a stray strand of his hair away from his forehead. “It’s fine. You need to… you need to take a beat.”

Roman pulled a pained expression, his features crumpling under the weight of stress. He nodded several times, before crossing his arms and walking off to get himself a swig of water.

When the doctor finally arrived, you pointed him towards Logan, quickly explaining what he’s been like for the past half an hour. He nodded and got to work, pulling out a few medical instruments to check up on Logan.

“So—how is he?” Shiv asked the doctor.

“I’ll put him on some fluids to hydrate him—it should be pretty quick.”

“Will he definitely be okay?” Roman asked

The doctor didn’t have the chance to reply when Shiv cut in, “But how quick, exactly?”

“Well… he’s not a cup of instant noodles.”

“Sure, but can we speed it up? Like a—a blood bag or an adrenaline shot?”

Roman scowled. “Geez, take it easy. You wanna give him a fucking Tabasco suppository?”

“Fuck you! It’s what he’d want,” Shiv defensively replied.

“Fuck you, too. The main thing is that we look after him, okay?” Roman slung an arm over your waist and you leaned into him with a sigh.

“Obviously, I agree.”

“Oh, do you, though? Sounded like you want to jumpstart our father like he’s a fucking pick-up truck!” Roman uneasily glanced at Logan, who’d fallen asleep on the chair. “Shit. Can you guys call us when he’s less… scary?”

With that, Roman dragged you away from the group. You could still feel Shiv’s angry eyes burning into your back.

“Where are we going?”

“Bathroom.”

“And do you want me to aim your penis for you?” you asked, laughing slightly. “Why are you making me come with you?”

Roman shot you a loose grin. “I could come up with twenty different sex jokes with what you just said. But I’m not going to, because I’m a gentleman.”

“He says, as he shoves me into the men’s bathroom,” you scoffed, before striding in and locking the door behind you. “I hope you’re not looking for a quickie here. I don’t think it’s very sanitary.”

Laughing nervously, Roman’s grip on your hand left so it could curl over your hip, tugging you close.

“You don’t want a little distraction? Just give me five minutes,” he mumbled. His head dipped forward to kiss the junction between your neck and your shoulder.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” you whispered, so low that Roman only barely heard it.

In truth, he didn’t know, either.

“Besides, I don’t think we’d have the time, anyway. The floor is fucking lava out there,” you murmured. “Also, I wouldn’t want our first time together to be in a bathroom at a shareholder’s meeting.”

Roman smiled, almost shy, almost disbelieving. “First time? Wow. Is this your way of telling me you want to have sex with me?”

“As if you wouldn’t throw yourself on your knees begging for it,” you bit back, wrinkling your nose affectionately. Then, you cupped his face and kissed the side of his nose, leaving a faint mark of lip tint against his skin. You smiled at that. “You’re cute, Romeo. But I know you. If you wanted to have sex, you’d be dry-humping me against the sink as soon as we stepped foot in here. What is it you actually want to talk about?”

Roman blew out a heavy sigh. His hands fell away from you as he hoisted himself up onto the sink and leaned against the pristine mirror. “I wanted to come clean to you. No secrets right? During the plane ride back to New York, I called Dad. I told him I wanted the top job, but I also told him that… that you and Gerri would be my second choices if he didn’t think I was ready. I just—I wanted to know if you maybe gave him a call, too?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I did.” You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “I told him that I didn’t want it.”

“Oh.”

“And I told him that Gerri would be my choice.”

Roman’s eyes met yours. They twitched with incredulity. “And you didn’t—you didn’t mention me anywhere in there?”

“I didn’t.”

“Wow. Great fucking friend you are.”

“Rome—”

“You chose the croney over me?”

Your features hardened. “Rome. Fuck, I just… I told him I didn’t want it because I didn’t want to be marked as the token figure that roped the company out of hot water. And I don’t want that for you, either. Don’t you get it? Not to mention it’d ruin your relationship with your siblings.”

“So you just—you don’t think it’d ever be me?” Something in his voice broke.

“It could be,” you admitted. “But I don’t want it to. Not now, at least.”

There was a longer silence. Roman pulled at his face tiredly.

You opened your mouth again, but he waved you away. “I know, I know, you didn’t offer me up because you love me and you’re trying to protect me. Thanks, fuck-face.”

He hopped off from the sink, cradling the back of your head so he could give you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“You still up for that quickie?” you tried to joke, nudging him with a half-hearted smile.

“Sorry, I’m saving myself for Marcia. Nothing like fucking your father’s leftovers, I’d say.”

The two of you laughed and linked arms, unlocking the bathroom door to walk out and make your way back to the group.

It seemed that the two of you came back at the perfect time, because Shiv was worriedly telling everyone, “His moans are getting louder.”

“Okay, but can he do that on stage?” Hugo questioned.

“Is it a wheel-on and wave situation?”

“Fuck, no. We’re not gonna make the piss-mad bear dance with fucking cattle prods!” Roman angrily put out. “We need to be looking after him.”

Shiv propped her hands up on her hips. “So he’s not gonna do his speech? Is that it, though? Do we just—does that mean we go down? We’d fucking give up?” She hurriedly turned and asked one of the analysts what the stats on the vote were. “God, okay. I think we should just go back to Sandy and Stewy and try to save the deal.”

“No, no. You can’t. Dad said no deal,” Roman reminded her.

“Dad didn’t say shit, Rome!”

“He said no deal! Are you fucking deaf?”

“No, he didn’t! His urethra had wrestled control over his brain! I could at least talk to them, right? If we go to the vote, we’d probably… we’d lose. Karl? Frank? Tom?”

They all babbled incoherently—mostly in agreement.

“Y/N?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah. I think you should try.”

“Rome? You back this?”

Roman pinched the space between his brows. Sucking in a deep breath, he said, “Go on, yeah. Go fuck it up, you moron.”

With that, Shiv rushed away, pulling out her phone to give them a call.

Before the shareholder meeting ended, the President called and the group had Roman answer, since Logan was currently… unavailable. He was extremely upset with Logan and said that he wouldn’t be running for another term, which was a major blowback for the company, since he was the stilt to Waystar’s political survival.

It was safe to say that things were going to shit.

Then Shiv called to say that she’d finessed four seats out of the board, which was a good fucking deal, so—maybe things weren’t all that shit.

Roman wasn’t happy with going against Logan’s wishes, but he frustratedly nodded. “We’re good. We’re all good. Hold the voting.”

Everyone cheered and sighed in relief.

When Logan came to, Gerri filled him in with all the details. He didn’t like what Shiv did, not at all, despite her defensive arguments that she’d saved the company. He yelled at her then, and everyone was quiet for a moment.

But Logan smiled at you, and patted Roman’s shoulder minutes later. He was fine, right? Things were fine.

Things were going to be okay.

#roman roy x reader #roman roy fanfiction #roman roy smut #roman roy fluff #roman roy series #roman roy ff #roman roy angst #roman roy x you #roman roy fanfic #succession roman #succession roman x reader #roman roy #succession fanfiction #succession x reader #roman roy imagine

234 notes · View notes

morallyinept · 6 months

Text

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: You're getting this a day early this week. For reasons. Mentions and descriptions of panic attacks. Mentions of self-harm/attempted suicide. Heavy angst - I promise, it will pep up soon! 😅

☝🏻Some of the tags aren't working, so please ensure you're following me and turn on notifs so you don't miss an update on this story.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

The sun is on the other side of the sky when you eventually arrive at outpost three.

The pink edges of an early dusk will soon make their way in, dip-dyeing the clouds rolling in puffy plumes above.

Summer evenings have always been beautiful, even before the world turned to shit.

You enjoy the colours; the golds fading into pinks, and then purples as the night would settle in. A pastel kaleidiscope, and you're thankful the sky has remained free of the horrors that taint the ground below it.

It's the only reprieve you have left these days, when you take a moment to gaze up at the stars, enthralled by the infinite beauty of space.

A renegade memory cuts in; Joel's body warming you on the air mattress he'd dragged out into the garden so you could both watch the meteor shower you'd been haranguing him about for weeks.

I don't want to miss it! You'd said, endlessly. There were only a few glimpses of the white, glittery streaks across the sky that night. Mostly because you and Joel were too busy looking at one another instead and talking excitely about the future. Your future, together.

Even though you never actually had one.

You smile with a deep sigh, throwing your head up to the sky as you trot on and Joel catches your wistful eyes.

"What's that look for? " He queries, curiously.

You shake your head smiling. "Nothing."

The day feels like it's dragged on deliberately to torment you, and tiredness weighs heavy on your back and under your eyes.

You follow Joel on his stud up the grassy knolls towards a small looking shack, tucked and nestled out the way that's not so obvious it's there, but gives a good view down into the valley which you’ve spent the last couple of hours riding up languidly.

Once off your horse, you guide the mare into a side stable hidden by the trees and are surprised to find ample hay bales stacked in there.

Joel shuts the paddock fence, “grab that bucket there,” he instructs and you do, following him as he takes the heavy knapsacks from off your horse. You offer to take them, but he shakes his head as he loads himself up and it makes you smile that he's never lost his gentlemanly chilvary.

Even if he's lost everything else.

Joel reaches behind a piece of wood and pulls out a key, unlocking the door and you instantly marvel at the inside.

“This is not what I expected from an outpost,” you say as you look about the place in bewilderment.

There’s a small, ashy stove in the corner with a basket of chopped logs next to it. A singular camper’s cot is along the far wall, with sheets folded on top of it and a threadbare pillow.

A couple of beaten wicker chairs face a large window; most of it is boarded up, save for a small square cut out where the light pools in softly and illuminates the floor by your feet. Dust motes dance in the white beams and you wander over to the view of the valley that’s squashed inside the tiny frame like a grainy Polaroid.

You traipse over to the side room, which is an alcove cut into the wood, to find a hose pipe attached to a slow rusting tap. A crude shower with a curtain hanging up. There's a couple of rough feeling towels on a hook, and a large bowl on the floor, presumably the toilet.

"S'no hot water." He says with a thin line for a mouth.

You turn to Joel shrugging, surprised. “Are all your outposts this fancy?” You quip with a wry grin.

You were expecting a hole in the dirt to squat in for the next five days and not much else. This is a palace in comparison.

A rickety shelving unit houses a few dogeared books, a few battered boxes that you see are old board games on closer inspection. There’s also an array of metal tins, some in various states of peeling and rusting.

“We work in rotations when on the lookout. The guys who were here last would’ve left yesterday, maybe the day before. Gotta leave the place smart n’ tidy for the next shift. Those are the rules.”

“Noted,” you say as Joel takes the metal bucket from you. He's careful not to touch you, you notice. “You’ve been on the lookout before?” Your fingers run over the sniper stand set up by the window.

The floorboards beneath you creak and jostle as you move, and you look down to see one board is loose as you step on it with your boot. You can hear running water from the tap in the alcove as the bucket starts to fill.

“A few times. I mostly get picked for scoutin’ runs.” Joel explains, his head peering out from the alcove at you. “S’what I used to do in the QZ, so guess m’good for it.”

"Are you good at finding things?"

He doesn't answer that.

You bend down and pull the floorboard up and find boxes of bullets and shotgun cartridges in there and baulk. There’s a small radio walkie-talkie too.

“Get ‘em all out,” Joel instructs you, resting the full bucket by the door. “We might be needin’ ‘em. Best have ‘em ready.”

You do and Joel attaches his rifle on the stand, peering through the periscope and places the boxes, you hand up to him, on the small table in between the wicker chairs.

“We switch the radio on once, just before midday, each day. If nothin’ comes through by quarter-past, then all is well.” Joel explains.

He throws his thumb over his shoulder to three small clocks on a wonky wooden shelf that tick quietly out of sync. They all read at the same time, differing by a minute or two. A stack of batteries are beside them. “In case one stops,” Joel remarks as he sees you inspecting.

“Industrious.” You nod understanding, and place the radio on the table next to the bullets. “Are all the outposts equipped like this?”

“Pretty much. Each time ya have a shift, ya bring supplies with ya from the commune to top up.”

You nod again as he points at the knapsacks realising that you’ll have less to go back with.

“You want me to take the first watch?” You offer.

Joel shakes his head. “No. I will. But we’ll eat first. Once it’s dark, we can’t use any light. Don’t want no-one or no infected knowin’ we’re here, okay? We keep quiet, keep our heads down. We just wait n’ watch.”

“Yes, sir.” You remark with a salute and Joel grits his teeth.

“You wanna get the stove goin’?” He frowns.

“You’re not gonna cook for me?” You remark with your tongue in your teeth, and he rolls his eyes. “I remember you being a great cook.”

“I ‘member you bein' full of shit.” Joel remarks as he steps over and rifles through the knapsacks, pulling out several cans and handing them to you.

You chuckle, recalling the time when Joel burnt the only dinner he’d ever attempted to cook for you on Valentine’s Day once. Instead, he’d ordered in pizza and then fucked you on his parent’s sofa whilst they were out on a romantic date night of their own.

It was a close call, barely getting your damp panties back on before they came home to two red faces with messy hair trying to look innocent. It was the same night he told you he loved you.

The thought warms your belly momentarily before the snakes strike with their venom again.

You look down at the cans, some dented, some without labels, one is blown and you tell Joel you can't eat it and he nods. You get to preparing some food. It’s a lucky dip as to what it’ll be, but you remain optimistic.

Joel pulls out a tupperware box with some baked bread in it and you groan in surprise.

“Courtesy of Jake.” He says with a little pride blooming in his cheeks.

“Jake?”

“He runs The Tispy Bison. He sees me right.” He tries not to smirk smugly.

“Is that because you’re his dealer or something?” You titter.

Joel baulks. “I might do him some favours when I’m on a run.”

“Mmhm. Is this focaccia?” You gasp, taking the tupperware box, opening it and inhaling the freshly baked scent of flour, rosemary and oils.

“Dunno, s’different each time.”

“Well. Jake might just be my new favourite person.” You say, grinning as the scent of the bread makes your mouth salivate.

“Hm. Next time you can spend five days gettin’ cosy with Jake then.” Joel gruffs, the frown returning, but his mirth still remains.

You watch Joel take the bucket and open the shack door. “Gonna give the horses a drink.”

He closes the door, but not before you catch his dark, chocolate eyes glancing back at you.

Out in the stable, Joel strokes down the mare gently whilst she drinks from the bucket hanging on a tough metal peg.

He loses himself in the feel of her coat for a while, focusing in on that silky smoothness over his rough fingertips and he runs them up and down.

The stallion eats from the corner, chewing as he tugs hay from the bale with big, glassy black eyes.

Joel’s mind wanders from the stable to inside the shack where you are. If he listens real carefully, and presses himself up against the far wall closest to the shack, he could probably hear you clanking about with the pans.

He could probably hear you mutter obscenities at the stove as you struggle to get the wood to catch light. He’d probably rest his large palm against the coarse wood, reaching out as though he was touching you.

God, he wants to touch you so badly. Convince himself that you're real.

He wonders if you would feel it; sense him here, listening to the music of you as it pollutes his head and stuffs up his senses, only but a mere few steps away.

So close, yet so fucking far from his reach.

Joel takes his hand off the wood and steps back; shaking his head and muttering curses of his own to himself for being so damn foolish.

He steps back to the mare who snuffles at him and he gets back to stroking her down. Her large head knocks against his arm and Joel wonders for a moment if it’s her way of telling him to grow a pair and get back in there.

Get back to you.

He calms her with a soothing shush and strokes over her ears, winding the velvet of them gently through his thick fingers as she snuffles again.

“You’re just as sweet as May, aren’t ya, darlin’?” He coos to her and the horse puts her mouth back in the bucket leaving Joel to contemplate and to just think some more.

Thinking has always been his worst enemy, deducing that he probably does it far too much for his own good. Often, the thinking is what talks him out of things, calms the recklessness that used to run in his blood during his wily youth.

Thinking is what stops him from unleashing the ire on a daily basis now. And he’s not sure anymore if that’s a good or bad thing.

He scratches at his temple and his fingers run the familiar pattern of the scar there. It stops all thinking for a moment as his tips notch over the puckered skin.

Just leaves him that stabbing feeling that starts at the bottom of his heart until it eventually takes over his beating muscle and renders him frozen, incapacitated for a few short moments as he remembers raising the gun to his temple in his darkest moment.

Joel wonders why it is that he never died; why it is that he flinched when he pulled the trigger. He should have died a long time ago, should be with Sarah now holding her close and smelling the coconut shampoo in her hair that he misses more than anything in this fucking cruel world.

Joel deduces that thinking probably talked him out of that too. That, somewhere, in the back of his foggy brain that could often chatter insidiously at him for hours - so much so that he had to resort to numbing out the noise with booze and pills just to get some simple shut eye sometimes - a small voice talked him down off that ledge.

But he wonders why it has, every day since. What was the point if not to taunt him with his losses?

He’d said to Ellie that he was glad he hadn’t. And he’d meant it. But Ellie was gone, her time between visits getting longer and he knows it’s because he tried to do right by her, even if it backfired in his face later when she discovered his dishonesty.

That voice that told him to fight for her as he gunned everyone down in that hospital selfishly. Point, shoot. Point, shoot.

The thinking had quelled then, a calm just leaving him to go stoically postal as he pointed and shot at targets; a quiet white noise filling his ears until Ellie was back in his arms and he could hear again.

And now she’s not.

Joel Miller is a loser; he's continually losing the people that matter the most to him. That has to be it, he thinks.

He looks down at his hands; two large paws that are weathered and worn, calloused and rough. Index fingers with split skin and a liver spot here or there that never used to be. Prominent veins that ridge and thumbs that always annoy him with their stubbiness, getting in the way of practicality at times.

Working hands that were once strong and built things, but now tremble and shake uncontrollably at times. Strong hands that fail to be able to hold onto anyone that he cares for anymore. He’d let go of Sarah, he’d let go of Tess. He’d let go of Ellie.

And he had let go of you.

Joel squeezes his fists shut, breathing in through a choke that rasps out at the back of his throat. That shit makes his chest burn and he can’t breathe anymore. It takes his breath from him as he tries to suck in oxygen that he can’t quite catch in the air.

He can feel his blood beginning to boil rapidly with the heat rising within him. Clarity is being lost to him and emotion - savage, raw emotion - is beginning to take hold as it creeps up his spine.

Please, stop.

He puffs in deeply a few times, sinking to his knees and breathing his way through it. Refusing to relent, refusing to let it take him.

But it always does. It’s stronger than him.

He feels it then, as it mutates from anger into sheer blinding panic crippling him in seconds; that all too familiar freezing grip tightening around his ventricles and muscles as he tries to regain his composure that’s stripped from him. He’s reduced to naked, quivering flesh in a matter of seconds.

He tries to remember to breathe as it ices his teeth shut. But all rational thought is swallowed up like it always is. All he can hear is his blood pumping -thump-thump-thump-thump- and then that tiny little voice -thump-thump-thump-thump- that slithers out from the dark again.

You’re dying, the voice says. This is what death feels like, and you’re going to die alone, Joel.

-Thump-thump-thump-thump-

He grabs at his chest, closing his eyes; hearing nothing but steam rolling through his ears. And for a few moments, he relives his personal Hell over and over.

He’s dizzy, falling forward on all fours as he rides it out; the horses are the only witnesses to his sinking, to his drowning right before them. They can’t save him, no-one can.

The mare brays, calling out to him to come back, but it's swallowed up in the panic as he sinks and flows away.

Once he does come back, when the ice eventually melts and his heart relaxes, he realises he’s still in it. Trapped in a living Hell that relents on and on.

He didn’t die, no - he’s still fucking here.

Joel breathes tightly, feeling the raw scrape in the back of his throat as he sits back on his ankles.

His hands run through his hair that feels matted with sweat, dripping damp around the back of his collar, and he's past the stage where he wants to yank it all out in agony.

It takes him two attempts to stand, cursing at his fucking knee that still pulls tight just to spite him, and once he's upright, he pats the mare on the side assuringly. Her silk anchors him back to reality as he convinces himself that he’s here.

As he turns, Joel sees your shadow moving forward in the doorway; your voice echoing in, and he stops dead, wide eyed.

“...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food anyway these days…” you say, and you eye him carefully noting how paler he looks. “You alright?”

Joel stares at you, wondering if you just witnessed him falling apart, wonders what you’d make of it and searching your eyes frantically for any pity.

He can take you hating him - he wonders if you do, and wouldn't hold it against you, because he hates himself - but he can’t take your pity. That would be the final death of him.

“M’fine.” Joel replies through a swallowed wheeze, and passes you, heading back into the shack.

Nine Years Ago...

It feels soft and it’s a sensation that pulls your attention for a moment. Diverts you out and away from the suffocating void.

It shouldn’t feel like that, surely? Not after all this time. Coarse, hardened, maybe. But not soft.

You watch as he winds the long, soft layers of the clean bandage around your wrist. It hurts less now, the sting. But you’ve been numb for a while.

He tucks it in place, his hands applying light pressure around it as he fires off gentle commands around you. Your mouth is lead, your head is empty. A couple of pairs of eyes hover behind him, their silence deafening.

He instructs them to fetch some more water and he instructs you to drink it, but you don’t. Or at least you can't remember if you do. You look down at your wrist. It feels so soft.

He doesn’t question you. He doesn't look at you to make you feel even more shitty than you already do. He doesn’t feel sorry for you.

He’s just... patient.

He stays with you, night and day. Doesn’t leave your side, which is equal parts infuriating as well as terrifyingly comforting. You loathe him, with every fibre of your being for what he did. For what he does.

For how he keeps you alive and fighting.

He assists you, when you need it most. When you need it intimately, without disgust, without hesitation. Taking a shit is difficult with only one working hand.

You fucked up, cut too deep.

Your wrist aches from the damage to the tendons. Years later you’ll still feel that ache, when it gets cold. When you overexert yourself. A constant reminder of your epic failure. A single finger blessed permanently numb and tingly forever. You envy it.

It'll get better. Give it time, he says. Give it patience. But you have none of those things anymore. Not even pain.

It's all numbed out, washed away.

He holds you whilst you cry, when you try to push him away, when you let out all of that anger, all of that fury onto him in short bursts.

He takes it. He absorbs it. He’ll bruise under his eye, but he takes it from you.

Until you have nothing more to give.

And then you sleep. For days. You wake up in his arms, it’s hot. Stifling. You haven’t showered, maybe in weeks. But he still holds you close, unperturbed by your foul smells.

You’re not even sure when the last time it was that you ate. You’re not even sure where you are anymore. Who you are anymore.

There's more of you, new faces you haven't met yet. Names you can't remember. He tells you them, introduces you as something you're not. You think you smile, agree with him. Reassure them like he does that they're safe now. That you'll protect them.

Days turn into weeks at an incomprehensible blur. Weeks into months, and it’s not until you’re both out with a small group hunting, laying snares for wild rabbits, that you finally talk about it.

“I didn't want to be here, just for this.” You murmur. Anything but this.

Kelper stops and looks at you. “Too late. This is all we have now.”

You walk on, your gun lowered as you trample over dead branches, leaves. Everything is dead now. It's been a harsh winter. Freezing. And you're just so fucking tired of not feeling any of it.

“I can't sanction your inherent stupidity. I can empathise with it.” He says, following behind. “But you don’t get to do that. Not on my watch.”

“You had no right.” You scoff. "It was my choice, not yours."

“Fuck you.”

You stop and turn to him. His eyes are focused, a frown crushes them. Kelper's face is unrecognisable. You've not met this Kelper before.

“Fuck you.” he says again, a growl to his voice. “Don’t be so selfish.”

You shake your head.

“You don’t get to check out. Not when…” He wipes at his face with his palm quickly. “You owe it to yourself to fight. To keep fucking going.”

“There’s nothing left to keep going for. Your delusion is misplaced, Kelper. It always has been.” You murmur.

He steps closer to you. His voice is a soft, muted sigh, expressing a gentle annoyance now for this new found situation. He never gets fully angry and you wonder what it would take to see him implode like a sun. His devastation would be glorious.

“You know that’s not true. That’s the fear talking.” Kelper says and shakes his head. “We endure and we fucking survive. For each other. This world isn’t done with us. It’s chaotic. It fucking hurts, I know it does. It's rotten, right down to the core. But it has more to offer. It's has to..." He sighs.

His eyes water, but he blinks it away quickly. "They need you."

"No they don't." You say.

"I need you, Goose. I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you.” Kelper says.

You gulp. Then your lips crash into his. He kisses you back, if but for a weak, selfish moment as a sob escapes you and into his mouth.

It's been so long since you've felt anything warm. And his lips are warm, his tongue. And like a moth to a flame, you want him to burn you alive. Immolate your entire being to ash and dust.

Kelper pushes you back gently as you gasp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, clutching back onto him. Feeling foolish, feeling relieved that you finally feel something again, even if it is embarrassment.

He smiles and shakes his head. “It’s a shame you don’t have a cock, otherwise I’d be all over that.”

Kelper sighs, pulling you into his chest. He wears a ring around his neck. The most delicate, fragile thing about him, with a tiny, blue sapphire embedded into the metal. A symbol of his own fragility and losses.

It pushes against your clavicle and leaves an indent in your skin, long after he pulls away.

You smile, and then a snuffle of laughter escapes your mouth. He laughs too.

“I’m never leaving you. And you’re not ever leaving me, okay?” His eyes bore into yours, hollowing you out from the inside. "I fucking love you, you got that?" He jabs his finger gently onto the side of your skull.

You know its futile to fight it anymore. To resist. His belief is a parasite worming its way in to your gullet and feeding, getting fatter. He's right, this world isn't done. It can't be. Every day that you're alive is a day to make it better. A day to find a purpose, to find hope.

You know these words, the mantras, as you try to pick through and unjumble them again. To see the clarity in them that you know is there. You felt it once before, you can again, right?

To endure and survive, long after this world has changed.

He saved you. Three years later you'd return the favour. And you'd have this conversation again. Only then, you'll believe the conviction behind these words, these ideals, as you tell him, yell at him, what he's just told you, as you keep his lifeforce inside of his skin to fight another day with you.

They need you! I need you, Maverick!

This is how you'll save him. This is how he saves you. This is why you endure and survive.

You nod at Kelper and you both clutch on to one another. “Okay." You breathe.

You run your finger up and down the raised, smooth track of the scar; your sleeve rolled up as you stop stirring the pot of the savoury, and somewhat overbearingly salty, smelling canned meat that’s simmering slowly on the stove.

The skin feels different, it’s healed over, physically. Thicker. Thicker skin. Impenetrable.

It pulls you out of your reverie back to the present day. He’ll be alright. You chant internally. He’ll be fine. It’s five days, get a grip.

Your attention is diverted by the sound of one of the horses braying gently outside, and you stir the contents again, pulling down your sleeve.

You serve up the bread on some chipped plates, breaking some off the loaf between you. You inhale the scents and it takes you back to another life; a life that was simplistic in its mundane joy.

A time when a broken heart was the only thing to fear in the dark.

You realise Joel has been gone for a little while as the stew bubbles sticky in the pan.

“Joel?” You call out gently.

You wander out towards the stable when you get no response, and he hasn’t returned.

You call out to him again en route. “...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food these days…” you say, with a slight mirth clacking around your teeth.

The scents of the stew can be smelt in your hair, your clothes. That and the firewood. Your stomach rumbles, but you’re not sure if it’s from hunger or the fact that it’s been tossed around on an emotional rollercoaster all day.

You stop as you round into the stable and see Joel staring at you, a little wide-eyed and sweaty in his hairline.

“You alright?” You query, eyeing him carefully.

He stares back at you with a peculiar look; some furtive panic swelling around his eyeballs. He seems heavier somehow, like he’s being crushed.

He snaps out of it; the frown returning in its rightful place and then his eyes drop away from yours. He wipes his hands down on the back of his jeans listlessly and steps forward, past you, leaving a cold prickle blooming on your skin.

“M’fine.” Joel replies.

To be continued...

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know.

Tagging everyone who asked to be tagged & who re-blogged my teaser.

@secretelephanttattoo @morgaussy @darkheartgatita @sp00kymulderr @survivingandenduring @sin-djarin @lilmizmoz @yazsos @ryangoslingstanktop @barbellpedro @givemeth @anavatazes @alwaysmicado @the-blind-assassin-12 @kirsteng42 @missredherring @gasolinerainbowpuddles @millennial-teenybopper @maggiemayhemnj @harriedandharassed @stevie75 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @chaoticfestninja @reddedmiller @doughmonkey @sonderosa @magpiepillsjunior @chronically-ghosted @pedroswife69 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @marisemonteiroo @everythingiwanttoread @jjhayhay20 @nerdieforpedro @perennialdoll247 @casa-boiardi @joeldjarin @sscorpiiio @untamedheart81 @srmacaroni @violinchick @orcasoul @lucyeyelesbarrow @mandrillusphinx @loveisacowboyyy @suzmagine @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @within-the-depths

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fic #five days series #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys

155 notes · View notes