#fakes tryst

18+

Tryst x Reader (i had too i love him)

"Princess, you up?"

Your phone buzzed just as you were mid-shampoo-serenade, like you were on tour. You cursed under your breath, stepped out,wet, naked, mildly annoyed,and grabbed your phone, water dripping onto the floor.

Of course it was Tryst. Who else texts you at 2 a.m.

"In the shower. Why, you wanna join me?" you typed back, towel clinging to your body.

"You know me too well. Be there in 10."

You smirked. Oh, we know where this is going.

"Make it 5. I’m impatient."

You snapped a towel-wrapped selfie that screamed accidentally hot, but very on purpose.

"Don’t do that. I almost tripped and broke my spine. Jesus. Hot tho."

You tossed your phone on the bed, towel trailing slightly, damp hair dripping as you padded to the door. You’d missed him. Even if he was your drug dealer-slash-neighbor, you maybe-just maybe-liked him more than was legally advisable.

Ever since you moved into this cursed apartment building a year ago, fate had been throwing your lives together like horny Sims. You met Tryst in the shared garden, where he was chain-smoking and crying like a rejected contestant on The Bachelor.

You almost turned around-comforting crying men wasn’t your specialty. But something about his messy blond hair made you snort out a laugh.

"Great. I'm sobbing like a little bitch and now my hot neighbor shows up outta nowhere. Fucking phenomenal." He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie .

"You good, dude?" you asked, sliding onto the bench beside him, sparking up your cigarette .

"Just found out the baby I thought was mine… wasn’t. I tried so damn hard to be a good dad. Bought little shoes. Held tiny socks like they were sacred. All for nothing. Turns out, it was one big fat lie. So, no-I’m fucking not good. But thanks for asking."

He took a drag that screamed “I’ve seen some shit,” and you nodded solemnly.

"Damn. That’s rough. I once thought a guy gave me crabs. Turned out it was chlamydia. Not the same, but being lied to sucks." You stared into the middle distance, haunted by flashbacks of The Itchening™️.

Tryst stared at you. Then he laughed. Like, full-body, teary-eyed, unhinged-laugh-laughed.

You giggled, flicked your cig, and said:

"I’m Peach, by the way."

"Tryst," he replied, still wheezing. "You’re absolutely unhinged."

"And hot," you added with a smug little smirk.

"Why’d your fake baby mama lie, anyway?"

He leaned back, exhaling like he was releasing two years of pain .

"Guess she wanted my money. Kept me on visitation lockdown,three times a month, ten minutes at a time. I thought I was a shit dad. Turns out, I wasn’t a dad at all. Just a dumbass with good intentions and a shitty taste in women."

"Well… consider it a free trial of Hell-level parenthood," you said with a shrug. "I don’t know you, but I’ve got a feeling you’ll be a great dad someday."

His shoulders dropped a little. Your words, apparently, massaged some hidden muscle called hope.

"Thanks, Peach."

"Besides," you said with a shrug, "who says you need a baby to be a dad? The world’s full of 20-something girls with daddy issues. Be the man who brings the milk back home, Tryst."

"Jesus Christ," he laughed. "You're weirdly comforting."

"And you're weirdly hot for someone who's been ugly-crying for 30 minutes straight."

Since then, you and Tryst had practically been glued together,watching horror movies on your couch teens, cooking while high in his kitchen (read: burning things creatively), and spending countless nights on the roof pretending you weren’t two seconds away from jumping each other’s bones.

You shared pasta at your favorite place so often the waitress started calling you “the young married couple,” and somehow got addicted to the same playlist of tragic '80s songs he insisted on crying to. It was weirdly romantic.

You only found out he was a full-blown drug dealer when you casually asked if he “knew someone local” who could hook you up with your anxiety meds, and he just walked to the cupboard, flung it open and said:

“Serve yourself, princess.”

You just wanted your prescription cheaper. He offered you the entire pharmaceutical black market.

Your daydreaming snapped like a rubber band at the sound of a loud knock. You opened the door and there he was: Tryst, bloodied, bruised, and still somehow hot.

Your brain short-circuited. Instant flight-or-fight mode. Or in your case: fight-whoever-did-this-and-then-fix-him mode.

“Jesus, T, what the hell happened?”

You dragged him inside like a dramatic ER scene, already speed-walking to the bathroom for your emergency sewing kit.

Maybe med school wasn’t a complete waste of money after all.

When you got back, he was casually raiding your fridge .

“Antiseptic! Ha-there you are.” He chugged your half-full bottle of vodka like it was Gatorade.

“Easy, tiger. Save some for the wounds.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the couch.

“Some assholes tried to rob an old lady outside 7-Eleven,” he muttered, wincing. “You know I had to jump in.”

You sighed in relief. At least it wasn’t cartel drama.

“You absolute idiot,” you muttered, running your fingers through his hair and inspecting his face .

“Can’t believe people still use knives these days. I was low-key hoping for a bullet. Way cooler to sew.”

“You’re literally pinching through my skin and you’re making jokes?” he groaned, clutching the couch cushion.

“Field training, baby.” You grinned. “Done. Any dizziness? Nausea? Did they hit you anywhere else?”

“Back of my neck,” he said. “But I’m fine. Don’t worry… thanks, love.”

And just like that, your soul briefly exited your body.

Love.

He said love.

“You’re welcome dumbass.” You kissed his temple. His ears went red immediately. Weak spot: located.

“Now turn around, let me see.”

“It’s fine, really-”

Too late. Hoodie: off. Neck: exposed. Vulnerability: triggered.

You gently touched the bruise. “Does it hurt here? What about here?”

Your fingers grazed the tender skin and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Kiss it better?” he asked, eyes fluttered shut, head tilted forward like he wanted more.

“Doctor’s orders,” you whispered, peppering kisses along his jaw, your mouth getting dangerously close to his lips.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you breathed, and gave him a soft, quick kiss.

His eyes locked onto yours, something dark and unspoken behind them.

But the second Tryst pulled you into his lap and your towel slipped, logic packed its bags and left the building..

He didn’t answer.

Just looked at you like he was starving. Like you were something to survive on.

His hand gripped your thigh, fingers digging in slightly, not possessive but desperate.

"You’re still bleeding, dumbass," you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady as your towel betrayed you completely and hit the floor.

"Yeah, well," he whispered, lips grazing your cheek, "I think I’m about to pass out, so we might as well make it worth it."

That was it. Switch flipped.

You kissed him hard, fast,like you needed him to breathe, to forget the blood and bruises and late-night trauma.

He hissed a little when your hand brushed his side, but didn’t stop. If anything, it lit something up in him,something wild, reckless, hot.

Your fingers tangled in his hoodie, yanking it the rest of the way off, leaving him shirtless and bruised. You ran your hands over his chest like you were memorizing it,every scar, every mark, every shaky breath.

"Careful," he groaned, teeth grazing your jaw. "You’re gonna break me."

"Good," you growled, kissing down his neck, where you’d patched him up minutes ago. "That’s what you get for playing superhero at 7-Eleven."

His hands found your hips, slid down, gripped hard enough to leave bruises of his own. You rolled your hips once and that was all it took,he swore under his breath like a man who just saw heaven, hell, and everything in between.

"Fuck, Peach," he gasped, voice low and cracked. "You’re gonna kill me."

"Then die pretty," you whispered.

He laughed,then choked on it when you ground down again. His head hit the back of the couch. Eyes closed. Breathing uneven. Lips parted like he wanted to beg but didn’t know for what.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

"Next time you get stabbed, I’m charging a fee," you said. "No more free patch-ups with bonus makeouts."

"That was not a makeout," he said, breathless, eyes now wide open and locked on yours. "That was a fuckin’ CPR revival with tongue."

You laughed,sharp and breathless,then grabbed his jaw and kissed him again, slow this time. Deep. The kind of kiss that says I’ve been wanting this since the moment you cried in the garden and called me hot through snot bubbles.

And he kissed you back like he knew it. Like he’d been holding it in for a year.

Clothes were being yanked, tossed,his jeans halfway off, your towel long dead on the floor like a fallen soldier. He pulled you against him, skin on skin, and it was all heat and ache and something stupidly close to need.

"Peach-"

"I know."

There was no more talking after that. Just mouths and hands and tangled limbs and the sound of the couch protesting its life choices.

His fingers slipped between your legs, and your back arched instantly. He didn’t go slow, didn’t tease,just knew. Like his hands had memorized you .

You grabbed his hair, pulled hard, and that made him hiss. His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide.

"You like it rough, Sweets?"

"I like it filthy," you whispered. "I want your hands shaking when you try to zip up your jeans after this."

That broke him.

He lifted you with bruised strength and laid you back on the couch.His lips trailed down your chest, kisses turning wet and open-mouthed, until he made you cry out.

And when he looked at you, mouth slick, grin cocky?

"You taste like sin."

"You look like one," you panted.

Then he was inside you, fast, deep, and you both gasped,like a punch to the soul.

No soft rhythm. No holding back. Just raw, punishing thrusts that said you’re mine with every snap of his hips. The couch creaked in protest. So did you.

He kissed you like he needed to stay alive. You clawed down his back like you didn’t care if he bled more.

"Don’t hide your voice baby" he growled against your throat.

You whimpered.

"Louder."

You moaned his name.

And when you came undone beneath him, shaking, nails in his skin, eyes rolling back,you knew you weren’t just fucked.

You were doomed.

He followed right after you, groaning your name like a curse and a prayer, collapsing onto you with the full weight of every repressed emotion neither of you ever said out loud.

You both lay there. Sweaty. Wrecked. Breathing like you’d run a marathon through hell.

"That was... supposed to be stitches and antiseptic," you said, voice hoarse, lips swollen.

"My bad," he murmured, eyes shut, face against your chest. "Guess I needed something stronger."

You smiled, fingers in his hair.

"You're bleeding on my couch."

"You're dripping on it."

Fair point.

Later, when the adrenaline faded and he was half-asleep on your chest, bruised and bandaged and quietly snoring, you kissed his hair.

You didn’t say it, but it burned in your throat like a secret:

I love you, you chaotic, broken, beautiful bastard.

But for now, you just whispered:

"When I tell you to sit on my face. Don't just put 10% of your bodyweight down. FUCKING SIT ON IT. SIT, LIKE A CHAIR."

Oh hell yeah, face sitting is so delicious geez. I'm totally not loosing my shit over it and I am fine ദ്ദി/ᐠ｡‸｡ᐟ\ ~❤︎

Word Count: ~280

Warnings: Smut(18+)

Summary: FACE SITTING, THAT'S THE POST.

You're hovering over him - thighs shaking, one hand braced on the headboard like you're scared to really sink down.

And Tryst? Tryst is not having it.

He looks up at you, eyes dark, jaw tight, hands gripping your hips and thighs hard enough to bruise.

“When I tell you to sit on my face,” he growls, voice thick with hunger, “Don’t just put ten percent of your bodyweight down. Fucking sit on it. Sit, like a chair.”

You whimper, feeling embarassed - but he doesn’t wait.

He doesn’t ask again.

He yanks you down fully, mouth already open, tongue out like he’s been starved, groaning loud as you finally give in and sit on his face.

His hands force you to stay down, to take it, no more holding back.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, voice muffled against your soaked heat. “Thought I was gonna have to beg” he obscenely slurps on your pussy, like youre the only thing keeping him alive.

Your thighs are trembling. You try to lift off - too much, too intense -but he just growls and pulls you right back down.

“'M not fucking done” he growls into your folds while looking up straight into your eyes.

With the way his tongue’s working, dragging slow circles, teasing then diving in with filthy groans, it’s not long before you’re coming undone - writhing, gasping, nails digging into the headboard. Your legs are trembling even more than before as you try to catch your breath through broken whimpers.

But Tryst? Just holds you there, smirking against your skin like he’s won. He kisses your thighs tenderly.

“Now was that so hard, baby?”

Phew, me likey some confident man that knows what he wants.

Me vs immediately writing a part 2 cause I love Tryst so damn bad. Part 1

Pairing: Tryst x fem!reader

Contents: age gaps, reader is over 18 tho dont be weird(im thinking like 20/21), Co-parenting of Zoe and Becca lmao. SMUTISH, minors go away. Tryst just really wanting to see reader fall apart.

Warnings: lazy smut, cuz I didnt wanna write it✨️

Wc; 1.7k

Masterlist

(just to put it out there that this isn't much a personal idea of what I'd do but what I think the story would develop like based on S1. my only credentials are being an actual scriptwriter and a big fan of Richard Harmon and women's wrongs <3)

— first of aknowledging the different points of views (especially about Tryst) because they are kind of important to how I think the story would go down in season 2

— Tryst is the most important piece to understand the objective narrative of the show because is the only charcater Becca and Zoe have in common and has his own version of events as well

— Becca sees Tryst as a very chill and slightly out there guy but Zoe perceives him as outwardly weird and menacing due to her own anxiety issues. Zoe is very interesting because she sees anyone who isn't in the same wave as her and who she's not attracted to as a bad influence but will justify her own actions even when they were objectively wrong. Later on when they start working with him their view of Tryst becomes one and the same

— still Becca's view of Tryst is warmer, Zoe's is still colder and a bit distant in my opinion

— I think it's quite important to understand that, one: Tryst's episode is completely objective because unlike Becca and Zoe he's not trying to unconciously make himself look better the way they do. He's down to earth and he's not actively recounting the story in the same way the girls do within the narrative

— that's because I feel like the whole recollection of events from the points of views of the girls is them testifying in court

— Tryst did not want to get involved with Guy. that whole breakdown in his car is because he was actively seeking out of the dealer life, and also definitely didn't want two teenage girls involved with a guy like that

— now, I do think the bond between Becca and Tryst is bigger than that his with Zoe. They've known each other for longer, they are closer (her texting him funny videos of Sally + the phone scene + him being the one she confided in wanting to be an influencer to) and she has always had a good view of him

— it's pretty much 100% guaranteed Tryst obviously doesn't die. he has the "secondary character that is a fan favorite" title so he's not getting kicked out so early

— Zoe would probably get the gun and "be about to shoot him." I'm sure from her point of view she'd be hesitant but Becca would perceive her as less so and be a bit scared of her. she started going down the Breaking Bad line during the last few eps so I wouldn't be surprised

— I know my girl Becca would be putting herself in front of Tryst so he wouldn't get shot

— I feel like this whole season would be about them dealing with the new ID system, the love triangles etc. Things such as the fake IDs that Sally lost would make a comeback and that corrupt cop lady would deal with it which would make Zoe feel more powerful but it'd make Becca worried about them having so much power over them.

— Tryst probably would have a storyline dedicated to him and his daughter. I think he'd probably start saving as much as he could because he'd know he's getting disposed of in one way or another any day now.

— most of Tryst's story during the show is trying to get the girls out of harms way as much as possible and taking responsability for involving them with these people. He never told them about it because he didn't want to scare them and also needed them to keep peoducing the IDs to protect himself.

— would the girls be mad after finding out? yeah pretty much

— at some point I'm sure they find out about Tryst's daughter and they both take it differently. Becca would understand him more easily and be sympathetic. Zoe too but at the same time her muddied idea of Tryst and her own family issues would make her see him as a bad father

— Becca would confide on him about Zoe's changes, which she's used to but I feel like they'd get worse. she'd be way too comfortable with the "working with a mob boss" stuff, plus I know for a fact she'll be cheating on Becca's ex with Sophie. her manipulative tendencies would worsen and ironically she'd turn into the image of Becca she has in her head through the show

— I really like Zoe because you can tell she painst herself as a very meek, mousy victim very clearly, even if you have to think some of the situations from her perspective might be true, it's always exaggerated. if you contrast her view of herself with how she does in previous episodes, you can kind of see the cracks in the way she has portrayed herself, at some point even she herself can't ignore the way she acts

— When Becca thinks of Zoe's wrongs she sees her as too starightforward and overtly confident. When Zoe thinks of Becca's wrongs she sees her as pushy, "too outgoing" and borderline stupid tbh

— (tangent so feel free to ignore this point but ever since ep 1 & 2 I've been sooo stuck on the changing room scene where Becca buys Zoe an outfit. From Zoe's point of view Becca offers to pay for it but it doesn't feel like she perceives it as condescending, which would be more in line to how she sees Becca sometimes. From Becca's point of view Zoe directly asks her to buy her not only that outfit but a few more items and she doesn't even mind. it's one of the very few secenes where they both agree and yet is still so different)

— Zoe's arc is about coming out of her shell and finding out she does have leadership qualities. Is very obvious she sees herself to be socially underneath Becca even though she thinks she's smarter and morally better and resents her for it to an extent, so through this whole ordeal she would become a stronger figure when it comes to the fake IDs business the way she did in episode 8. this all comes to the expense that it blooms within a deal with a mob boss so...

— ...I know it in my soul there would come a moment where they are about to get caught and Zoe sells out Tryst to the cops as a scapegoat, probably to prove to Guy that she has what is needed to survive in the business

— there would definitely be a moment where Guy talks to Zoe about how he only really needs one of them to run the business and Becca isn't really the brain of the operation which part of Zoe would totally agree with (play the Succession opening sequence)

— this would probably be a breaking point for Becca and I feel like she'd do something like give most if not all of her ID money to Taylor so Emma can have it for herself to compensate for Tryst

— about the downfall I'm not entirely sure. at the point they were in season 1 I don't think Becca would rat Zoe and herself to the police but maybe after the Tryst incident she would, depending on what kind of arc she'd be given in season 2

— being smart as she is she might strike a better deal with the prosecution for testifying against Guy and bringing his empire down

— Becca's arch is definitely about dropping appearances and doing the right thing. I feel like the speech her father gave her about unity would resonate with her when it comes to Tryst, after all he's the one she called when she was scared and thinking it was all over. she obviously feels isolated from her family and he's the closest thing she's got to a chosen family after realizing Zoe is past the point of no return. The way that the girls are shown to be some sort of replacement to Tryst of his own daughter would make this turn more coherent and Zoe's betrayal even worse

— something something Becca needing a father figure and finding it on Tryst something something Zoe having been betrayed by every man in her family and taking it out on Tryst with no remorse as a power play and misplaced anger

— I think Tryst definitely does prison time but it'd be a light sentence. Becca and Zoe would be punished as well but whether is jail or juvie they'd get released rather quickly with lenient sentences

— Becca visits Tryst in jail but Zoe would be too ashamed to and she'd move away

My Headcanon of Fakes ending/continuation is that one of the girls ends up shooting Guy out of completely panic and pressure (he's still alive just ya know...bleeding) and whoever was holding Tryst by his hair rushed in to save his boss only to end up ALSO getting shot and now there's three bloody men on the floor (one being Tryst) and Becca and Zoe are just standing there, the gun in one of their hands like"😰😰"

Anyways in complete panic they just drag Tryst away as far as they can while the two are still bleeding out. They sat him down somewhere a bit safer, helped him take off the gag and the tie on his hands and then once it registered how they just show two people the girls freak the fuck out because they were already on their way to jail and now they shot two people 😭

Anyways once Tryst feels a bit better (as better as he can get when he's all beaten up like that) he tries to reassure them that he knows a lawyer that can handle all of whatever happened in this one night (including the panic shooting, saying Becca and Zoe just did it for self defense)

And then they're all happy and safe and no one dies and they're still one big silly happy family that totally does not do illegal businesses!!!