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#it’s none of my business bc I don’t actually care about her
just-rogi · 1 year
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She has got to stop fucking white British men for like a month to get it out of her system then she will be normal again, like people with caffeine addictions who can’t go three days without coffee or they get physically sick, shakey, and have severely impaired judgment
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soarrenbluejay · 7 months
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Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;
Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.
Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.
So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)
He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.
See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.
And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.
He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.
And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?
But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.
Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.
Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.
Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.
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ichorai · 1 year
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hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part two (m).
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pairing ; roman roy x f!reader
synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.
words ; 32.0k
themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers
warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, talks of sexual misconduct (cruises incidents), mentions of death, a lot of sexual/suicidal jokes and general foul language, a lot of business talk, phone sex & a handjob, degradation, roman’s implied demisexuality, reader's got a tooth motif bcs all the other roy sibs have their own motifs, a lot of morally grey shit
series masterlist. main masterlist.
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The Roy’s summer home in the Hamptons was nothing short of grand. That was always the bare minimum for the family, after all. Though you had been preoccupied with work, having a lot piled up because of your time off for Shiv’s wedding—you had dropped quite a few important meetings to come at Logan’s behest. He called for you, and for all his children, to come to the Hamptons and discuss his plans to sell the company.
You stepped into the home, hands buried within your pockets. Immediately, you were hit by an overwhelmingly foul stench. It smelled an awful lot like rotten meat and, strangely, the piss-sodden alleyways in New York. Your face twisted into a grimace as you strode in, finding Kendall wandering aimlessly downstairs.
“Hey, uh, hi,” he said, awkwardly reaching for a hug when you stuck your arm out for a handshake. The both of you gingerly stepped away from each other.
“What’s that smell?” you asked, knowing full and well that Roman and Shiv were still quite angry with him for basically stabbing them in the back.
“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I think they’re trying to figure that out,” he replied, waving his hands around to gesture to the milling workers. “You, uhm, you’ll get used to it. Listen, Y/N, I know you and Rome are close, so I just wanted to ask if you could… talk to him. For me.”
Arching a brow, you tilted your head. “You can’t talk to him yourself?”
“He’s not… he’s being difficult right now.”
“Understandably so.”
There was a melancholic look to his eyes. “I know. Can you just tell him I’m sorry? I want… I want us to be okay.”
Pursing your lips, you gave him a firm nod. “Okay, yeah, sure. No promises that it’d change anything, though. You know where he is?”
“By the beach. With Shiv.”
With a hum of farewell, you started backing off, making your way to the sandy shores not too far from the house. You spotted their figures in the distance, bundled in dark coats and long scarves. When they spotted you approaching, the both of them waved.
“Hey, guys,” you greeted, smiling brightly.
“Hey, fuck-face,” said Roman, giving you a quick hug, before stepping back to allow Shiv to do the same. “We were all waiting for you.”
“Sorry I’m late—work has been kicking my ass lately.” 
Snorting, Roman quipped, “You know you can take a couple days to relax, right? I’m literally your boss.”
“I’m a general manager, Rome. If I stop, that’s a large chunk of Waystar down. I’m trying to keep the company from sinking further into the depths of hell,” you said lightly, crossing your arms. “But it seems like Logan wants to sell it away. What’s our viewpoint?”
The both of them struggled for words.
“If the selling isn’t actually real… like some kind of fucked-up loyalty test, we were just talking about how dad’s going to kill Kendall,” said Shiv, looking none too upset about the prospect. “How that would mean it could be Rome who takes up the mantle.”
That made sense. Connor was not an option, not in Logan’s eyes. He was barely a son to the man, much less the heir to his legacy.
“It could,” you said, careful. “It could also mean you, though.”
 Both you and Roman stared Shiv down. 
Finally, she caved and shook her head with a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Yes, it could be me.”
Sensing that the two of them were on the verge of another catfight, you quickly intercepted, “I bumped into Kendall in the house just now. He wanted me to, uhm, tell you that he’s sorry.”
Roman’s features twisted. “Well, tell him he can stick his apologies up his ass.”
“I’m not a fucking messenger! Tell him that yourself.”
Rolling her eyes, Shiv jerked her head back to the house. “We should probably get back inside. Dad’s gonna be here any minute by now.”
It was on your trek back that the three of you bumped into Kendall, who was wearing sunglasses even though the sky wasn’t all that visible through the gloomy clouds. Both Shiv and Roman didn’t hesitate to duke out their frustrations on him, asking why he changed his mind on the takeover so quickly. 
“You do realize how fucked you’re going to be once you’re no longer of any use to him, right?” asked Roman to his older brother. “He’s got you eating fuckin’ humiliation gumbo on TV, and then what? Nothing.”
Snickering, Shiv added in, “Dad’s gonna play a merry tune on you and then throw you out the fucking window. You know that, right?”
“He’s like a sex robot for dad to fuck,” said Rome.
“He’s like a beaten dog.”
“He’s both of those things—and also a piece of shit.”
To your surprise, Kendall stood by and took all the insults his siblings lobbied at him, expression permanently fixed into one of unadulterated misery. A part of you felt bad for him, but another part of you knew he’d brought this upon himself.
Shiv stepped closer to him, each one of her words saturated in venom. “He’s a fucking narcissist who repeatedly puts his self-interest above everything else, and then tries to justify it with half-assed appeals of the rigors of the fucking market.”
“You’re a fucking prick,” Roman finally tacked on after Shiv’s mini-monologue. He glanced over at you. “Y/N, you wanna throw a punch?”
“What were you thinking, Kendall?” you quietly asked. “In what world did you see yourself winning against your father? And even if you did win, it’d be at the cost of your siblings. Would you kill them for your own personal gain? And not to mention that you relapsed and you’re not getting the help you need. You didn’t even thank Roman and I for picking you up from that addict’s shithole. We got you out of there because we were worried for you. We care about you. And you threw that right back in his face.”
Your words lingered heavily between the four of you. 
When Kendall remained as silent as a statue, Roman let out a loud groan, rolling his eyes to the side. “Come on! Fight back, you fuck-bag.”
“Guys, I just… I…” Kendall paused to look off into the waters. “I can’t get into it.”
“Oh, you can’t get into it? Shucks,” Roman mocked. “Fuck you. Come on, man. Treat us! Why did you actually back out?”
Shame flooded his features. He completely disregarded Roman’s question by telling his little sister, “I’m sorry, Shiv. About the wedding.”
There were tears in her eyes. Her father had made her cry after ruining family therapy, and now her older brother was making her cry after ruining her wedding. 
“How dare you apologize to me?” she asked, a sharp edge to her tone. With that, she rotated on her heel and strode off. 
You and Roman followed after her, your arm linked with his.
“You look like shit, by the way,” Roman murmured to his brother as he brushed past him.
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By the time you got back to the house, you caught sight of the cooks dumping the expensive food they’d been preparing and laboring over for hours straight into the trash. When you wondered aloud what was going on, one of them quietly answered that they’d found the source of the smell—a dead raccoon covered in maggots, rotting in the chimney. Logan demanded all the food be removed because it’d been sitting around in the stench, calling for pizza to be ordered instead. 
When lunch rolled around, you sat between Roman and Kendall, feeling incredibly tense. The atmosphere between the siblings had yet to clear, and you weren’t quite sure if it ever would. The chatter died away when Logan cleared his throat sharply to quell the commotion and greet the family.
He began with a blunt address of the bear hug situation, which you noticed made Kendall’s foot tap against the floor in agitation.
“I guess the question is… do we really want this fight?” he asked. “Or is now the moment to cash in and fuck off out of the casino?”
Silence. He was met with dead silence.
“If we do fight, I need to tell the board who I want to take over,” said Logan. “So, please—I want you to speak freely.”
His words made Shiv tip her head back and scoff-laugh. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law?”
“Come on! We’re pals here. Let’s fuckin’ have it out!” gruffed Logan as he surveyed the table.
As if to purposefully push her father’s buttons, Shiv crossed her arms and pointedly kept her mouth shut. 
Tentative, Kendall spoke, “I think you should fight, but, uh… you’re the one who built it all. The man, the myth, the legend.”
In a condescending tone, Roman crooned, “Aw. That’s adorable. You’re always lookin’ out for Pops, aren’t you?”
“But is he saying Dad should stay on because that’s what Sandy and Stewy would want?” asked Connor with a frown, ever the conspiracist. “How do we know he’s not a double agent?”
“Nice to see you, too, Con,” mumbled Kendall.
Shaking his head, the older brother said, “Hey, Ken, I’m just saying what others are thinking.”
“It’s possible,” Shiv added, narrowing her eyes.
“Should we frisk him for a wire? Burn him? See if he’s a witch?” joked Roman, scratching at the back of his head.
Interrupting the banter, Logan said, “He’s taken his medicine.”
“Taken his medicine?” Shiv parroted in an affronted manner. “Is that it? Dad—you beat Roman with a fucking slipper in Gustav until he cried for ordering lobster, remember? And Kendall tries to kill you and he’s only five minutes out in the cold?”
You remembered that day. When you’d casually told Roman that you preferred lobster over crab. How he tried to order it for you instead of what was already on the table, and how an already ticked-off Logan was tipped over the edge and lost his shit, taking his frustrations out on Roman. The memory of the actual beating itself was hazy—all you could recall were thuds and muffled whimpers, fearful tears on your cheeks. The purple bruises on his face didn’t fade away for a long while. He would try to joke about it, but you never found it funny. You had apologized over and over again, until Roman told you to shut up and forget about it, nonchalantly adding that he wanted the lobster, too. That it wasn’t just for you.
But it was. It was all yours, had Roman been successful in acquiring the crustacean for you. You didn’t need to know that, though.
Trying his best to shrug off Shiv’s words, Roman tilted his head to the side and quipped, “Well, it’s not polite to order the most expensive item on the menu when you’re not paying, Siobhan.”
Logan could dump a billion dollars into an incinerator and that would barely even make a dent on how much wealth he was hoarding, you wanted to say. You kept your mouth firmly shut, biting down on your tongue.
As per typical Logan fashion, he brushed off the call-out of his abuse to his son. “We’re not doing memory lane here. Come on, spit it out. What do you all think? Stick or sell?”
“Well, I think you’re in the prime of your life,” chimed Tom. “I think another decade is just what the doctor ordered.”
From beside you, Roman’s knee nudged into yours as he began miming choking on a dick. You smiled, almost laughing out loud, but caught yourself before you did. 
“I, uhm, I think selling seems cool…” began Willa.
“Hey, Dad, Willa thinks selling seems cool!” snorted Roman, which made Willa fall uncomfortably silent.
With a disapproving stare, Connor bit out, “Asshole.”
“You,” said Logan. It took you a moment to realize that he was staring directly at you. Heat prickled at the back of your neck. “What do you think?”
You sat up straighter in your chair. “You’ll be rich enough to live a thousand lives if you sell. You’ll still be rich enough to do so if you stay in the game. The only difference is, you lose your legacy if you go with the former.”
Scrutinizing you, Logan dipped his head and took a sip of champagne. “Mmh, wise words, sure. Not your opinion, though. Not what I asked for. Those are just facts we all fuckin’ know. Bah—don’t waste my time. Fucking useless. Leeching off of me while your parents are parading in a nameless exotic country, drinking their brains into toxic liquid that leaks out of their ears.”
Shame curled within your stomach, and a blistering flush spidered through your skin. You could feel all eyes on you, including Roman’s. You were no stranger to Logan’s verbal abuse, but it’d been a long time since he brought up your parents' and their neglectful nature. The wounds were reopened, and stung much worse than you remembered.
Drumming her fingers against the table, Shiv said, “Dad, I think it’s possible that you’ve somewhat chilled the atmosphere of free-flowing debate here.”
“You know, Kodak was trading at about a hundred dollars a share back in ‘97. Yesterday, you could pick it up for about three bucks. That could be us. If we cash out, we could walk away with ten billion.” Logan glanced at his youngest son, noticing how he’d shuffled his chair closer to you. “Roman. What do you think?”
Swallowing, Roman shrugged. “I dunno, Dad. I fuckin’ love money, but I’m really scared of you, so…” He made a high-pitched noise, barely passable as a laugh. “Yeah, uhm, honestly—I’m not sure I’m willing to give my strategic advice in a public forum when I could just be a, uh, a player in any future moves.”
There was obvious exasperation in Logan’s eyes. Disappointments, the lot of you were in his eyes. Without another word, Logan stood up and began to hobble out of the dining room, pizza left untouched. 
“Uhm, Dad?” Roman called out after him, confused. 
He didn’t respond.
Roman patted your back twice before getting up as well, following after his father. Shiv was hot on his heels.
One by one, Logan had told them through the door he had closed behind him. He wanted his kids to come in one by one, alone, so that he could have their unfiltered opinion.
Roman went in first, but not before squeezing your hand, and slipping through. When he emerged only ten minutes later, his face was despondent. But his lips were twitching upwards, and you could immediately tell that he was just faking it.
“He’s dying,” he joked with faux anguish. “Riddled with cancer.”
The way Shiv’s brows kinked told him that she didn’t find it all that funny. “Rome.”
“What? It’s a joke. It’s funny. Dad’s got cancer. What’s not funny about that?” You patted his back and nudged him over to the couches, where Connor and Willa were sitting.
The eldest son rolled his eyes. “Sick puppy,” he called Roman.
“No, but seriously, he asked me to run the company.” Dead silence. “I’m kidding. Or am I?”
It was then that Logan called for Shiv to go in. You took Roman’s arm, leading him off into another room, where it was quieter.
“Hope you’re not planning on molesting me back here,” Roman languidly commented, but didn’t fight off your grip. “Nobody would believe me after what I said about Dad—I’d be like the boy who cried wolf.”
“Rome,” you said, partially exasperated, partially somber. “What did he say back there?”
The man across from you scratched at the back of his head. “Honestly? Nothing.”
“Hm?”
“I mean—I explained to him that it’d be smart to sell some shit, keep some shit. Financialize the company. I don’t know. Couldn’t really gauge his reaction—then he just said okay and told me I could go.” Your friend rested his hands on his hips. “Do you think that was smart? Do you, uhm, think he thinks that was stupid?”
It took you another moment to shake your head tentatively. “I think you did the best you could, given the ultimatum. Besides—you wouldn’t really want to run this shitshow, would you?”
He stepped back in an affronted manner. “What do you mean? You don’t think I can do it?”
“It’s not a matter of whether or not you can do it, Ro. It’s about if you want to or not. And I know you wouldn’t. It’s not… it’s not you. You’ve always said the company was like a cage for you.”
The way Roman squared his shoulders told you that he was growing defensive. “Yeah, well, it’s like a fuckin’—a good fuckin’ golden cage. An amazing cage. A cage where I can roll around and throw shit at people. I’d like to stay here for the rest of my life.”
“Do you? Really?”
“What, is this some kind of reverse psychology bullshit Dad put you up to? Just—” He stepped back when you reached out for him. “Fuck off.”
With a huff, you shook your head. “Roman, you need to pull your head out of your fucking ass and realize that I’m the only friend you have. If you can’t trust me, you’re fucked.”
There was a tense beat of silence between you.
Then, he narrowed his eyes on you. “If you stab my back, I’m going to kill you, then throw myself off the highest building I can find. It’ll be like a Shakespearean tragedy.”
“Okay, Rome.”
“I’ll put your head on a spike. Keep it as decoration.”
Slowly, he let you wrap your arms around him. “Okay, Romeo.”
“I’ll pluck your teeth out and wear them around my neck like a string of pearls.”
“Love you, too, Ro,” you said, hugging him tight.
“Yeah, whatever, fuck-face.” He buried his nose into your neck, inhaling sharply. “I knew you were going to molest me.”
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The family reconvened later that night, where Logan announced that he decided he was going to keep the company, claiming his ambitions to be the last man standing. Then, he pronounced Roman and Kendall as co-chief operating officers, much to everyone’s dismay.
“We need to stick tight—tighter than ever now,” Logan defended when Roman began to protest. 
“But he—no. No, I’m sorry. Excuse me? He… he tried to help your oldest enemy to take over and now he’s getting a fucking promotion? Is that what’s happening?” Rome asked from beside you, arms crossed over his chest. 
The old man nodded. “That’s my decision.”
“Well, it’s bullshit,” Roman declared.
Quiet settled over the group. 
Like a dog being kicked, Roman withered away beneath his father’s contemptuous stare. You put a hand on his shoulder. 
“And you’re going to name a successor?” Connor asked.
“After some consideration, I think we just need a name to flag privately to big investors for now. I mean, it could be anyone. I’m not going anywhere. Could be a stuffed fuckin’ shirt. Could be Y/N, for all I know.”
Did he just compare you to a stuffed shirt—?
“Gerri,” said Logan. “It could be Gerri. We might as well say it’s Gerri.”
With a quirked brow, Shiv said, “Congratulations.”
Her godmother tilted her head and shifted in her seat. “Wow. Okay. Thank you.”
“It won’t be Gerri,” Logan rudely clarified. “But Gerri’s fine. Just so we’re clear.”
She was an expert at hiding her disdain, clearing her throat slightly. “No, yeah, I think we’re very clear.”
With that, Logan dismissed himself, calling for Kendall to follow after him. His number one boy.
It was clear that Roman was still upset. He pulled away from you to go sulk about to his sister.
That night, when the moon shone brighter in the Roy’s summer home than it ever did in the city, and you were buried under a thick blanket, you felt the mattress dip beneath another person’s weight. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Roman.
“Shut up,” he gruffed when you smiled ever so slightly, even though you hadn’t said anything.
You hummed pleasantly when he curled his arms around your form like a koala would a tree. The two of you fell asleep that way, breathing each other in and dreaming of necklaces made of teeth.
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The acquisition to take on PGM was a bad fucking idea. One of the worst you’ve heard, in fact. When Logan brought it up to you and a few other managers during a meeting, you didn’t hesitate to go bee-lining for Roman’s office, demanding him to tell you every single detail.
“So, you think this is, like, not good?” he asked, voice high-pitched and unstable. Just earlier today, he’d been telling his dad and Shiv what a great idea this was.
“No, Roman. It’s not fucking good. I’m sorry, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want the most trustworthy news source in America right now to be adopted into a fuckin’... fascist, right-wing, conservative dick jerking fest!” You drummed your fingers against his table. “Ro, this can’t happen. It could very well tank Waystar, and news media outlets in general. Reliability goes down, money goes down, our rivals go up. The political climate couldn’t handle such a change like this—”
Pulling at his face, Roman shook his head. “Fuckin’ political climate. Everything’s about the political climate these days. Fuck!”
“Roman, I’m being serious,” you said, brows furrowing. 
He sucked in a deep breath. “Fuck. Ugh—fuck! You are… you’re so…” He made an unintelligible noise while shaking his fists at you, nose wrinkling. “You’re right. God. I hate saying that. Feels like I just took a bite out of a rock. But even if you are, I can’t just stab dad in the back like that.”
Shoulders loosening, you nodded in understanding. “What’re you gonna do?”
“Tabitha is friends with Naomi Pierce. I’ll ask her to get me in touch,” Roman said, lips pursed to the side. It didn’t go past your notice that his stance on the Pierce situation was still left ambiguous. 
Your eyebrows raised a fraction. “Tabitha? You guys still going steady?”
“Uh-huh. Yup. Never better,” he replied, a tad too quickly.
“Really?” you asked. To none of his surprise, you read him like an open book. “You must really like her.”
“Mhm.”
“But not like-like her?”
Roman clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth in distaste. “What are you, nine?”
“You didn’t say yes,” you said in a sing-song voice. Then, you sobered up to seriously tell him, “Oh, Ro, she’s a great catch, sure, but if you don’t have romantic feelings for her, then don’t string her along like that.”
Rolling his eyes to the side, Roman tried his best to sidestep the topic. “It’s none of your beeswax, you prick. Anyways—you’re coming to Hungary, right? Corporate retreat and all that jazz.”
You didn’t feel like the conversation about Tabitha was quite over, but you let it slide for now. “Yes, Roman. Not really looking forward to it, now that I have to deal with an entire acquisition worth billions hovering over me.”
“Just relax for now—it’s not concrete, even if dad says it is.” Roman stood up from his desk to go pour himself a drink. “I’ll save you a spot on the plane. Next to me, if I’m feeling nice. Next to Greg if I want to be entertained by watching you kill yourself in front of him.”
“Thanks, Romeo,” you dryly said.
“You’re welcome. Okay, you can go away now. I wanna jerk off in front of the window without you watching this time. If you stay, I’ll fuck you against it, and that’d be my one-way ticket to a stern finger-wagging by HR.”
With a snort, you got up from your chair, heading for the door. You couldn’t help the way your cheeks burst aflame at his words, even though you knew it was just light-hearted banter. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, you fuckin’ slut.”
“Bitch,” he shot back, just as you stepped foot out of his office. 
“Whore!” you yelled over your shoulder, loud enough to have a few employees turn their head curiously. 
Roman watched you go through the glass windows, shaking his head with fond amusement.
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The estate in Hungary was surrounded by forests and clean air—a stark contrast to New York. You were walking alongside Roman down to the hunting grounds, hands shoved into the pockets of your jacket. The rifle slung across his shoulder kept bumping into you, and you would push him away with a mild grin each time it did. He wasn’t very good at walking straight, eventually colliding into you mere minutes later.
The amicable atmosphere was effectively killed when Kendall approached the two of you, solemn-faced as ever. 
“Hey, guys,” he greeted in a monotone voice. “Listen, I have a question.”
Both of you stared at him, waiting for him to go on.
After an awfully lengthy pause he continued, “So, uh, did you guys get a call from that biographer?”
Right. You’d been in the middle of discussing with Tom how he’d landed a top position at ATN when your phone began to ring. You politely excused yourself to take the call, surprised to hear a woman claiming to write an unauthorized biography on your godfather—and she wanted you as a source. Though you had many opinions on a man, you knew that voicing them would be nothing but trouble for you.
Roman rolled his eyes. “I mean, yeah, obviously. I’m the interesting one, after all.”
When you laughed, Roman grinned along with you. 
“I got a call, too,” you admitted. “Did you?”
Tilting his head into a nod, Kendall mumbled, “Yeah. I did.”
“Well? Are you thinking of talking to her?” asked Roman.
“I don’t know,” Kendall said. “Maybe. You guys?”
“No… but if you’re going to talk to her, then I guess I have to talk to her, too. Just to correct your bullshit,” Roman responded.
Two seconds of silence before you huffed out a sigh. “It's a messy business that I don’t want to involve myself in. If Logan finds out, which I’m sure he will, I’m not going to let myself be killed because of it.”
The two started talking about Pierce. Both of them sounded so awfully fake about the entire ordeal that you wanted to bash their heads together and force them not to speak through a brown nosing filter. Their conversation came to a halt when Roman’s phone began to ring, and he stepped away to answer privately, much to Kendall’s chagrin.
“Hey, Kendall,” you broached, rocking your weight back and forth on your heels. “If you talk to that writer, Logan won’t be as forgiving to you this time. He’ll slit your throat in front of everyone to see.”
The man who you onced looked up to as an older brother stared at you with a dead expression. “I know,” was all he said. 
Once Roman came ambling back, Kendall began to interrogate him about the call. Defensive, Roman lied—you knew he was. He had an obvious tell: the way his nose would twitch and his left eye went all squinty. The older brother told him he was full of shit.
Before they could break out in another argument, a Hungarian hunter came up to the three of you, claiming that the truck was ready to take them out into the wilderness. 
“Let’s go murder a terrified mammal,” quipped Roman, taking your hand and leading you away from Kendall.
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The hunting party returned to the estate with four boars. You took no part in the killings, having stayed in the truck to speak to Gerri on the phone. Apparently, she had very strong doubts about adopting PGM, and wanted to know if you felt the same. You were Logan’s family, she had said, and he listened to family more than his own general counsel. 
You told her you would if you could, but Logan was adamant on taking on PGM. No amount of needless peddling would sway his mind. 
Hours later, when the sky was dark and the table was laid out with all sorts of fruits and glasses of spiced wines, everybody was seated for dinner. You sat between Roman and Gerri, speaking to both of them in hushed whispers about nothing quite important.
The amicable atmosphere was shattered when Logan stood up to address everybody. 
“Someone has spoken to Michelle Pantsil.” The biographer. 
Both you and Roman glanced at each other, knowing that it was neither of you. Was it possibly Kendall? Had he been lying to the both of you again? Or had it been someone else? Tom? Greg? Gerri? Frank?
“We’ve got rats on this ship,” continued your godfather, rounding behind people’s chairs in a menacing, domineering manner. “And Pierce—who’s got my back, hm? Who’s really behind me? Anyone wanna own up? Hm? Anyone want to rat out a rat?”
Ah. So it seemed Pierce knew of Logan’s moves now. You didn’t dare chance a glance at Roman, knowing it was him who had told Naomi.
Logan began to sharply question a few people at the table, demanding to know if they had anything they wanted to say to him. It shocked you even further when he barked out an order for everyone to put their phones on the table—both company and private.
“Is that really necessary?” asked Gerri. “I’m not even sure if that’s legal to demand people to—”
“Yeah, well, we’re getting down to brass fucking tacks,” spat Logan, eyeing everybody darkly. You did as he said, placing both of your devices onto the table—you had nothing to hide. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Roman slipping his phone beneath his leg.
When he caught your gaze, his head dipped forward a bit and his eyebrows pulled together. Shut up, his eyes seemed to tell you. Even without verbalizing it, he still somehow managed to be rude to you.
You narrowed them back at him, wordlessly telling him not to worry.
“Karl, do you like the Pierce deal?” Logan queried.
“I do. Yes, I do. Yes, yeah.”
With a dry chuckle, Logan shook his head. “Bullshit. Boar on the floor.”
The two men began their back and forth—Logan commanding Karl to stand in the corner whilst the former sputtered out indignant protests. It was embarrassing and humiliating, and he was going to do it all anyway.
“Tom.”
“Me? Uh, Pierce?”
“Yes,” said an exasperated Logan.
Clearing his throat, Tom hesitantly said, “Well, there’s a lot of factors, but uhm, yes. Personally, I like it. I do.”
“Boar on the fucking floor, over there,” gruffed your godfather, pointing over to where Karl stood. 
With no protest, Tom pushed away from the table and slunk off. 
“Gerri! Stand up! Tell me about Pierce.” 
Her gaze stayed on her untouched plate as she got onto her feet. “Well, to be perfectly honest with you… I’ve, uhm, I’ve had a few doubts.”
“Honesty,” Logan finally said. “You see, everybody? Do you see? Honesty. Greg, stand up! Did you get any orders from my brother? The fucking Conscience of the Prairies?”
Everybody watched as Greg stammered out a near incoherent response. He was sent off to stand next to Tom and Karl, as well. This seemed to be Roman’s breaking point, because he burst into a fit of giggles.
“Roman!” barked his father. 
This brought him back to sobriety. “I like it, Dad, for real—”
“Stand the fuck up!”
With a bitter murmur beneath his breath, Roman got up to his feet. With discreet motions, you silently swiped the phone from his chair and placed it beneath your leg so it wouldn’t be seen by his father. 
Desperate to divert the attention away from him, Roman said, “Kendall took a call from the biographer.”
Logan rested his hands upon Kendall’s shoulders, which made Roman bristle even harder. His older brother droned out, “We all got a call, Rome. Y/N, too.”
“Okay, yes, but you—you seemed like you actually wanted to talk to her.”
“To smoke you out for Dad.”
Roman’s nose wrinkled. “What? Fuck you! Why’d you get to smoke me out? I was smokin’ you out!”
As you watched Logan’s fingers curl into Kendall’s shirt, you couldn’t help but think of him as a meat puppet of sorts. So damaged and broken and directionless, ready to heed every single one of his father’s words. 
“Why don’t you tell us about your mystery call?” 
“Oh, the phone call?” Roman propped a hand on his hip, risking a glance at you. Then, he violently began to scratch at the back of his head. “Yeah, sure, it was Frank. He meant to call you, he wants to know if the plan to overthrow Dad is still happening. ”
Finally pulling away from Kendall, Logan’s voice rang out across the room like a slap to the face. “Someone spiked Pierce. Which one of you boars did it?”
He yelled for the three men in the corner to get down on their knees, claiming it was a game. Your godfather, now more of a monster than a man, called for everyone to get up and cheer, “Boar on the floor!” as Tom, Greg, and Karl scrambled about to eat a sausage that was tossed to them in order to prove their loyalty. He demanded they oink and squeal like real piggies would.
It was cruel and animalistic. And Roman was filming with his personal phone, a sadistic smile on his face. 
You would’ve berated him for it, if not for Kendall cornering you against the wall when everybody else was distracted by the Boar on the Floor spectacle. 
“I know you took Roman’s phone. I saw you,” he said, eyes flickering down to your pockets, where you had hidden away the mobile.
“Fuck off, Kendall,” you responded with a daggered edge. “You touch me, and I’ll bite your fucking head off.”
“I thought you were smarter than this,” he told you. “Defending my brother—do you know how many times he’s fucked you over? How many times he’ll keep fucking you over?”
Curling your upper lip in contempt, you spat out, “Get the fuck away from me, Kendall. What’s wrong with you?”
Suddenly, his hand shot out to grab Roman’s company phone from your pocket, prompting you to shove at him, trying to grab the phone back. The commotion caught the attention of everyone else, Roman included. 
He was quick to step forward, pulling you away from his brother so he could try to yank the device away himself. 
“What the fuck? Give me my fucking phone back, asshole!”
“What are you hiding? What’s the code?”
“Are you fucking serious? My code is, uhm, fuck you—”
The two of them began to tussle, arguing indistinctly as they pulled at each other’s hair and limbs. You stepped back, burying your face in your hands in utter exhaustion. 
When Kendall locked Roman in a chokehold, Roman finally keyed in his PIN, shoving his older brother away with a labored breath. 
“Okay, you got it! You fuckin’ happy? There’s nothing in there. Now give it back—give me my fucking phone!” When he began advancing on his brother again, Colin stepped in to keep him at bay. “What, are you going to touch me, too? Grab my fucking balls—I will drop you, you cocksucker!”
Finally, Kendall opened up Roman’s call history, not at all to see Naomi Pierce at the very top. He didn’t hesitate to tell his father.
“Dad, it was Roman. Roman talked to Pierce.”
Panic weaving through his tone, Roman shook his head. “Dad—I didn’t… I didn’t betray you.”
“Then what’s this call from today?” asked Kendall, holding up the phone. “Why are you talking to her?”
For a moment, Roman’s eyes flickered over to you. “Come on, man. I wasn’t trying to fuck the deal. I was trying to land the deal. I was trying to help—I thought it would be a… a nice surprise.”
His words struck you across the face like a slap. Roman had told you that you were right—that acquiring PGM was a terrible idea. You’d thought he was on your side. And now—it seemed like he was doing it all for his father’s favor. The best of both worlds, blew right up in his face.
“Roman,” began Logan, “you’re a moron.”
Crackling silence.
Kendall cleared his throat. “Boar on the floor?”
Having enough of him, you snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Kendall.”
“Y/N was helping him,” said Kendall. “Tried hiding his phone from the table.”
Logan swung his heated, intense gaze onto you. It took all you had within you not to flinch away. 
“I didn’t know what Roman was doing. I just didn’t want to get him in trouble.”
Your godfather shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “How sweet,” he spat. “The two of you are perfect for each other. Fucking morons!”
“Dad,” said Roman, voice warbling. “I am not a moron. She isn’t, either. Y/N, tell him—tell him why you thought PGM was a bad idea.”
Everybody’s eyes were on you. Suddenly, your throat went dry, and all words flew out of your vocabulary. You shook your head, a defeated sigh falling from your lips. Roman’s shoulders drooped with the weight of shame and loss.
“How much is a gallon of milk?” Logan suddenly asked his youngest son, advancing on him until he withered beneath his father’s glare. 
“What?”
“How much is a gallon of fucking milk?”
Confused beyond his mind, Roman said, “I don’t know. I mean, who the fuck knows, Dad? Literally nobody knows! Who gives a shit?”
“Greg! How much is a gallon of milk?”
The lanky man stammered out, “Uh, I mean, like, regular milk, or—?”
Burying his face into his hands, not unlike you had done earlier, Logan sighed out, “I am surrounded by snakes and fucking morons! You’re a bunch of silk-stocking fucks! Who backs me on Pierce, huh? Who?”
When he was met by silence, Kendall answered in everyone’s stead.
“None of them do, Dad. They’re all against it. Karl’s lying, Tom’s lying, Gerri’s playing both sides, Y/N is very clearly against what you’re doing.”
Hot shame curled within your gut. Though you were steadfast in your beliefs against taking PGM, disappointing your father figure was never a pleasant sensation, no matter how terrible he was.
“Uncle Logan, I’m sorry—” you began, but he was quick to shut you down.
“Don’t go sucking my dick now, girl. It’s too fucking late. You’re lucky your brainless parents are major shareholders, or I would’ve fired you a dozen times by now. Do you know that? How fucking worthless you are?”
Tears pricked the corner of your eyes. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, training your gaze onto the ground. 
“Here’s the news,” Logan said, addressing the entire group now. “We are going after it. And what’s more… I will win.”
With that, he stormed off, disappearing somewhere in the vast house. 
“Hey,” Roman tried to speak to you, but you maneuvered away, disappearing up some stairs, where your room was waiting for you.
It took a lot of indecisive thought, but you left the door unlocked.
To none of your surprise, Roman came crawling into your room when everybody was asleep. He slipped into the empty spot beside you, slurring out a litany of nonsensical apologies mixed in with how much of an asshole Kendall was.
“You’re drunk,” you whispered, pushing his face away. You hadn’t the heart to be angry at him. Not this late at night. Not when he was just as upset as you were about what had transpired during dinner. “Go to sleep, Rome.”
“Give me a kiss g’night. And tell me you forgive me.”
“Ro—”
“Just—just fucking do it! Don’t ask me stupid questions.”
Shifting in the bed, you leaned forward to press light kisses to both his fluttering eyelids. “We’re good, Romeo. I don’t know. I’m mad at you, but not as much as I’m mad at Kendall and your dad. I’m your only friend, remember? I love you, asshole.”
“Yeah. Shut up.” His hands curled over your waist and pulled you close. “Say that again.”
There was a laugh in your voice. “What? That I’m your only friend?”
He prodded your side with a stiff finger. “The fuckin’... the love thing.”
A part of you contemplated telling him to fuck off. But the wide, warbling brown of his irises told you that he was desperate to hear it. Desperate for any crumb of affection he was offered. “Mhm. I love you, Ro. I do. Now go to sleep.”
He lazily blinked at you, as if he was a cat. “Don’t be mad if I puke all over you.”
“I won’t be mad.”
“I’d be mad if you puked all over me. Why wouldn’t you be mad at me?”
“Go to sleep, Rome.”
“Night. You smell good, you know? Like if a unicorn had sex with a bouquet of flowers.” Without warning, he sank his teeth into your neck, and you had to physically pry his teeth from your skin to keep him from using you like a chew toy.
Muffling a yawn, you murmured, “Go to sleep before I euthanize you.”
It took him another hour to finally drift off, but when he did, the two of you slept better than you had in months.
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Roman was terribly hungover the next morning. Headaches and droopy lids, barely registering your voice telling him to get up. When he finally rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he noticed that you were already dressed for the day, having gotten ready while he was passed out. 
“Everyone’s waiting for you, Ro,” you gently told him, brushing his hair out of his face and then taking his hands to tug him off the bed. “Go wash up. Come on, stinker.”
He let you push him around, handing him the toothbrush and a cup of water to drink once he was done washing up. You turned to give him some privacy to change, but his fingers just couldn’t seem to button his buttons right.
“These fuckin’ things—like they’re made of soap or something—”
With a light sigh, you rotated back around. “Come here, you big baby.” You straightened out his collar before slipping the buttons through their respective holes with ease. 
“Dad’s killing me. He’s cutting my fucking balls off.”
You watched him with a sympathetic gaze. “He won’t do that. He doesn’t see you as a threat.”
“That’s not the compliment you think it is.”
“I wasn’t trying to compliment you.”
Roman watched as you fastened together the last button for him, but you didn’t step away, staying close by him.
“If I was capable of any sudden movement, I would totally pounce on you right now. I like your shirt—is that a new shirt?”
“I’ve had it for four years,” you deadpanned.
“Hm. Old shirt. You should throw it out.” To his relief, you smiled at him.
Patting his cheek once, you asked, “Are you okay? How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know. I’m fucking terrible. But I should be asking you the same. Dad took a beating on the both of us.”
Memories of last night made your nose wrinkle in distaste. 
“I think everyone was just… caught up in the heat of the moment. I don’t think your dad meant everything he said.” He did, you knew he did.
Shaking his head, Roman slunk away to go put on his shoes. “He thinks I’m a moron. The worst of his seed, or whatever the fuck. How am I supposed to get him to take me seriously? Grow a mustache and read the Journal? I’ll fucking do it.”
“Don’t grow a mustache. You’ll look like you came straight out of a shitty European porno.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Ignoring him, you sat down beside the disorderly man, pulling on your own dress shoes and knotting together the laces, before helping him tie his, because his fingers suddenly decided not to work this morning. “Gerri told me I should convince you to go to management training. Because, you know—tada. Your only friend is one of the company’s head managers. Lucky you.”
“What, she and Dad want you to be my teacher? Sounds like a sexual fantasy to me.”
“It probably won’t be me. Might be a lower-level manager. But I’d come to visit! Get you in the spirit of things.”
Roman snorted. “Ugh. I don’t want to go back to classes. I’ll kill myself.”
“Don’t be dramatic. Let’s at least have some breakfast first.”
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A week later, Roman was enrolled into the management training program, much to Gerri’s relief. She’d thanked you for convincing him, and you told her that it barely took any effort at all. Really, he just wanted to become better in his Dad’s eyes.
You were swamped with work as usual, occasionally checking your phone to see a long strings of texts from Roman, complaining and whining about the torture they were putting him through (they made him watch a video about ethical conduct in a workplace). 
When Roman called you the first time, you declined because you were in a meeting. You declined the second time as well, because you really had to concentrate on filling out important documents. By the time your phone rang again, you were in between tasks, and picked up with a grouchy, “What, Roman?”
“Yowza, who put that stick up your ass?” his voice came through. His high pitched laughter followed. “It’s fucking hell here. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Sorry,” you replied, pinching your brows. “It’s been terrible up here, too. I’ve got a lot of shit on my plate. This acquisition really isn’t helping.”
“Are you coming?” he asked.
Blinking, you shifted the phone in your palm. “Coming where? To your training?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Mmh, I’m sorry, Ro. I really would, but I’m just up to my head with work. But I’m proud of you! Really, I am.”
“Oh, you are? Fuck you,” he snapped.
You took no offense to his bitterness. “Fuck you back. This is good, what you’re doing, Romeo.”
“Yeah, I know—I’m gonna grow up to be a real little boy and learn the price of an egg, and do… phone sex with my girlfriend like a normo.”
Laughing, you knocked your head back with a grin. “Y’know, phone sex is more kinky than anything. If you wanna be normal, you look her in the eyes during missionary sex and tell her you love her.”
“Pfft. Yeah, right. Do people actually do that? That sounds disgusting.”
“Yes, people actually do that. Have you ever considered that you’re the disgusting one?”
“Don’t be mean, this is my first day of training, you bitch.”
From his tone, you could tell he was smiling, too.
“Seems like you’ve been complaining to me more than actually paying attention.”
“I can’t help it. The videos are too fucking long. It’s like trying to teach Beethoven how to play hot cross buns on the piano.”
You laughed, and Roman felt a certain warmth pool in his chest.
“You can do it, Ro. I believe in you.”
“Thanks, mommy,” he teasingly replied. 
Your phone began to buzz with another call. “Ah—sorry, Rome, I gotta go. See you later, okay?”
Before he could say his grumpy goodbyes, you’d already hung up. To your surprise, your screen displayed the called ID of your godfather. Your palms suddenly grew clammy.
When you answered, his voice was soft and amicable—a stark contrast to what it was like in Hungary.
“Hello, dear. Hope you’re well.”
The rest of the call went surprisingly fine. Logan wanted you to go over to his office to run through some analytics and, apparently, he wanted to apologize to you in person. Mend the broken bridges, he had said. You weren’t entirely sure if there was another game he was playing at, but you couldn’t say no to him. He was your top boss, after all.
Just as you slipped through the glass doors with a hesitant smile, a loud bang sounded from somewhere on the floor. You flinched, eyes widening. 
A gunshot.
Terror wrapped its dark hands around you when security guards quickly took you by the arm, guiding you around bends and corners, before finally leading you into a panic room. Logan came in behind you, looking mildly distraught.
“Are you okay?” you asked, helping him sit down and giving him a loose hug. 
“Fine, fine. Where’s Siobhan? Kendall?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
When you felt down your pants for your phone, you let out a frustrated sigh when you couldn’t find it anywhere on you. You must’ve dropped it during all the commotion to get to the safe room. You settled into a seat across from Logan, watching the news on the television, your leg bouncing up and down with agitation. 
A few minutes later, Shiv showed up, embracing her dad with a chaste kiss. She gave you a hug as well, cheek pressing against yours. 
“Do you know what’s going on?”
“No, I don’t. Where’s Tom?”
She pulled away to call her husband, and you slumped back into your chair. 
Down on ground level, Roman was still in his training class, watching his partner begin to present his idea for a new ride, when a man burst through the doors, calling out Mr. Roy!
Well, there goes his chance to pretend to be a normo.
“Just in case you get a news alert on your phone, there’s been an incident at ATN.”
Roman’s brows quirked downwards. “Is my dad okay?”
“It’s been suggested that it could be a concerted attack against the family. Do you want us to take you to a more secure location?”
“Yeah, of course I want that—get me the fuck out of here!” The guard began ushering him out of the class, down the hall to a more ‘secure’ space, which was clearly just an inventory room. “So, uh, does an attack against the family include, like, godchildren, too? Or just, uh, direct blood-related shit?”
“I don’t know yet, sir. All we know so far is that there was a gunshot in the building.”
Panic began to settle in Roman’s chest. He fished out his phone from his pants and called you. No answer.
He texted you, over and over again.
Hey Fuckface You heard about this shooting bullshit? I thought they only went for schools nowadays. Answer me Bitch Right fucking now Can you pick up? Hello  Helloooooooooo 🖕 Hahaha funny joke! Now fucking pick up
It didn’t quite occur to Roman that he should probably call his siblings just yet. He was far too caught up with the idea of you lying on the ground somewhere, bleeding out to death. Certainly not a pleasant thought.
He called you again, and nearly threw his phone across the inventory—safe room when you didn’t pick up.
What the fuck Please answer me it’s not funny anymore If you’re dead I’ll kill you I’m being serious Hello? Please answer You can’t be dead it’s literally not possible
He called a third time, and there was no response. Growing increasingly worried, Roman finally called his twin sister, who responded after the second ring.
“Hey, Rome. You okay?”
“Yeah, whatever. Is Y/N okay?” he hurriedly asked, itching at the back of his neck.
“She’s fine. Here with me in the safe room. I’m fine too, by the way. Thanks for asking.”
“Fuck off, just put me on the phone with her!” 
A second later, your voice came through, and Roman nearly melted onto the floor in relief.
“Hello? Rome? Are you okay?”
“You fucking bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you were fucking dead! Why didn’t you answer any of my texts?”
If not for the situation at hand, you would’ve laughed at how worked up he sounded. “I lost my phone when the gunshot sounded out. Sorry, Ro. It happened so quickly. They’re saying it was a suicide. But I’m not really sure—Gerri’s filling me in.”
“So you’re, like, okay? Actually okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Ugh, fuck you. Go to hell!” he barked into the phone, right before hanging up. 
You stood, still stunned, handing Shiv’s phone back to her with a quiet word of thanks. 
Curled up in the corner of the inventory room, Roman found out that he and Brian had won for best pitch for a ride in the class. He smiled a little, then followed out after his partner to make sure that he wasn’t fibbing.
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“I slaughtered them, you know? Everyone in that fucking training class grovels at my feet now,” Roman told Tabitha on the phone. “They’re jealous! And that’s all there is to it. Anyways, um, how are you?”
“Good!” she told him. “I’m about to get in the bath.”
“Oh, yeah?” Roman took a long pause. “Uh, y’know, Y/N told me that phone sex is kinda… kinky. You wanna…?”
On the other side of the line, Tabitha smiled, putting her phone on speaker. “Mmh, alright. I’m making the bath real sudsy.”
“Is that because you’re dirty?”
“I am. I’m a dirty, dirty girl.”
“Yeah, you are. And I would love to fuck you.”
She laughed, light and airy. “I’m so wet for you right now.”
A long pause. Roman winced. “Uh, that’s not… well, you don’t have to be so specific.”
“I’m… being sexy?”
“Yeah, it’s just—could you not do that thing? With your voice? It’s, like, breathy and unnatural.”
Sucking in a frustrated lungful of air, Tabitha shook her head. “That’s what I sound like when I’m turned on, Roman.”
“I know, I just… I don’t like it, so—” He made his way to the bed and laid down. “Let’s just be normal. Let’s be normal. Casual.”
“Normal? Okay, I was just trying to get into it but…”
“No, I’m sorry, yeah, you’re right.” He cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice. “Um, I’m fucking you in the pussy. I’m fucking you hard.”
Tabitha pursed her lips. “Amazing. What are you gonna do next, change your water filter cartridge?”
Rolling his eyes, Roman sighed out, exasperated, “Jesus fucking Christ—oh, look at that, I’m coming! I’m coming! Ah, wow, I came! Thank you! Hooray! Bye.”
Abruptly, he hung up, not unsimilar to what he did to you earlier to you in the day. Guilt suddenly flushed through him—he probably should give you a call. Say he’s sorry.
It only took one ring for you to pick up, and he could tell that you were smiling on the other end. “Hey, Romeo. Didn’t think you had the emotional capacity to talk to me after thinking I was dead.”
Roman rubbed his left eye. “Fuck you. So are you, uh, okay?”
“You already asked me that, Rome.”
“No, like—mentally or whatever. Must’ve been scary. Ooh.” He made a ghost-esque noise, but cringed upon realizing that that probably wasn’t appropriate.
Nonetheless, you scoffed through the phone. “It was jarring, but I’ll be okay. How’d training go?”
“I mean, it’s fuckin’ bullshit but I won the stupid ride pitch thing. They should have it built.”
There was some rustling of sheets. Roman wondered if you were clambering into bed. He wondered what you were wearing. 
“You really think they’ll build you the ride after your first day in management training? Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ve got money. They’ll build whatever I want them to fuckin’ build.”
“You know who you sound like? Like Joffrey Baratheon, from that show I made you watch. The one you never paid attention to unless there was a pair of tits on screen. Spoiled little shits, the both of you.” 
With an affronted gasp, he said, “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m technically your boss.”
You giggled. “Don’t pull the boss card on me, Roman. You’ve slept in my bed more times than in your own. That’s fucking… that’s like power play, right there.”
“Yeah?” Roman could feel a rush of blood go straight to his dick, which began to strain against his pants. “D’you think we’d get in trouble if we ever…”
There was a long moment of silence. Static filled in Roman’s ears.
“If we what, Roman?” you asked, voice quiet. 
Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Roman blurted out, “I tried the fuckin’ normie phone sex with Tabitha.”
“And?”
“She got turned on.”
“Uh, congratulations?”
“I didn’t like it.”
“Oh. Why not? You like your sex dirtier? Wrong?” You began to chuckle, but it tapered away when Roman went silent on the other end of the phone. More rustling blankets. “Oh, fuck, Roman. You’re an idiot, you know that?”
You could hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. 
“What else am I?” His voice was breathy. Whiny, almost.
“This is wrong, Romeo. I can’t… you’re dating Tabitha, remember?”
“Just keep—keep talking.” When his hand wrapped around his hard dick, weeping with pearly precum, Roman wondered if he’d bust his nut right then and there.
After a few seconds of silence, you tentatively continued, “You’re disgusting, Rome. What’s wrong with you? Touching yourself to my voice when your girlfriend was left high and dry for you.”
He began to stroke himself, eyes fluttering shut. A strained moan fell from his lips. Neither of you had ever ventured this into this territory in your relationship before. Sure, sexual jokes were always passed back and forth between the two of you but this was—this was real. Wasn’t it?
“Mmh, I don’t want you to cum yet, Ro.” You clutched the phone close to your ear. 
A choked noise emitted from his throat. “I can’t—I can’t hold it—”
“Hold it.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to cum with you.” More rustling on the other end as you kicked your pants and underwear down, dragging your finger around your clit. 
This seemed to send Roman into another fit of whines—the thought of you fucking yourself on your own fingers to him made his mind go all hazy. 
“Romey, tell me,” you whispered. “Out of all those times we slept in the same bed together—did you ever imagine fucking me while I was asleep? Like a sick little pervert?”
A groan climbed up the back of Roman’s throat. His pace slowed down, trying his best not to cum prematurely. “Yes, all the fucking time. Yes—” His words died on his tongue as he moaned again, and again, and again—
“God, Ro.” You stifled a gasp when you plunged two fingers into your throbbing cunt. It’d been a long while since you’d had the time to touch yourself—it was no surprise that you were already on the brink of an orgasm. “Have you touched yourself to me before? I’m sure you have. You sick fuck.”
The vein in Roman’s forehead popped as he bucked his hips into his fist. “Fuck, yes! Yes, please, Y/N, please—”
“Please, what?” You moaned yourself, grinding into your palm. “You wanna cum, baby? I wanna hear you make a mess of yourself. Like the dirty fucking pervert you are.”
With those words, Roman toppled off the edge, spurts of warm cum dribbling from his throbbing cock, soaking his fist with its sticky mess. He fucked himself through his high, whining with overstimulation at the sound of your own choked sighs.
Breathily, he whimpered, “What else? Please, what else? What would you do if you were here with me?”
“Mmh, if I was there, I’d make you lick your cum off of me. I’d ride your face until you pass out—oh!”
A creak of the bed as you arched your back, crying out his name, cresting over the peak yourself. 
More silence. Labored breaths.
You swallowed heavily, skin glowing with a faint sheen of sweat. The haze of your orgasm was beginning to dissipate, and you were coming back to your own senses. “Fuck—I’m sorry, Ro. I don’t... I don’t think we should’ve done that.”
He blew out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, we shouldn’t have.” His chest rose and fell unevenly. “But it was fucking amazing.”
“It was.” You ran your tongue along your teeth in thought. “I’m gonna go, uhm, clean myself up, Ro. G’night.”
“Mmh. Night.”
“This doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still best friends?”
Roman screwed his lips up to the side. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Totally. BFFs for liferz, or whatever cheesy fucking bullshit you need to hear.”
You scoffed. Things would be okay with the two of you. They always worked out in the end. “See you soon, slut.”
“Hey, Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Romeo.”
“Mmkay, bye, fuck-face.” 
With that, the call ended.
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Weeks later, the Roy family was to spend the weekend with the Pierces at their family estate. You figured the reason why Logan had called you to his office right before the suicide was because he wanted you to come along and play mediator—the Pierces were a rather articulate and fanciful family. According to your godfather, they aligned much more with your and Shiv’s politics than his. It reminded you how you were nothing but a pawn on the chessboard for him to maneuver. 
Regardless, you knew you couldn’t say no. Even though he knew you didn’t support the Pierce acquisition, you were a valuable asset and that could potentially be beneficial for both parties. Besides, the Pierces were a powerful family. Having them as allies would be good for you.
You were lounging on the couch beside Shiv and Tabitha when Roman strode into his father’s house, bowing down dramatically.
“How was summer camp?” she teased her twin. 
“Hm? What’s that? Didn’t catch what you said. I’ve been down in the salt mines for so long with my fellow Johnny Lunchpails, I no longer speak One-Percent,” he said when he bent down to kiss Tab’s cheek.
Snorting, Shiv retorted, “You were slinging candy apples, Rome, not digging the Panama Canal.”
“I’ve seen the world for how it really is, Siobhan, and it has changed me! I’m a kettle corn shoveler, here to show you frilly clit-flickers the truth. Hullo, Y/N. You look lovely.” He patted your cheek thrice, and you swatted his hand away before the fourth. A part of you had been worrying for the past few days about your relationship with Roman. Would things change after what had happened over the phone? Or was it all just… no big deal?
To your relief, the two of you seemed to be just the same as before. 
“Hey, Rome. Nice to see you’ve been so… humbled. Tell me, if I were to ask you to do my laundry, would you know how?”
Tabitha cracked up at your words and she nudged at your knee humorously. 
Roman rolled his eyes, muttering something about how he wouldn’t want to touch your tighty whities anyway, and scuttled off to greet Marcia and Connor. Only then did Logan come in, Kendall in tow. His little meat puppet.
“Alright. Cars are waiting—but first, some announcements. Frank, if you wouldn’t mind?”
Logan’s right-hand man stepped forward to address the group. “As you all know, the good news is that the Pierces are entertaining our offer, but bad news—they’re inquiring about your moral character, hence this weekend.”
“They want to look us in the teeth,” gruffed Logan.
Frank nodded. “Right. They want our 24 billion, but they also want to be able to ensure the integrity of their news outlets into the future.”
“Mmh, to ensure everything goes smoothly, we’ve prepared a few do’s and don’ts for the weekend,” said Gerri, pointedly staring at Roman. “Topics to stay clear of: Ravenhead, ATN, Israel, Brightstar, and the Cruise’s rumor mill. Steer onto: gossip, investments, art, movies, literature… tittle-tattle. Wider cultural interests.”
“Oh, and two drinks maximum,” Frank added. “They’re not big drinkers.”
Tilting his head, Roman drawled, “That’s okay. Nobody here has any glaring substance abuse issues that almost brought down the company, right?” He lolled his head over to Kendall, shooting him a wink.
Logan went through a few more details about Tom and ATN and Rhea, which certainly raised a few apprehensions. 
“Thanks for all your help,” said Logan. For a moment, his eyes landed on you. You wondered if he had considered that you’d purposefully sabotage this weekend to stop the deal from going through. Or maybe he knew you were his loyal lapdog, no matter how far he kicked you. Or maybe he simply wanted you there for diversity points. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. “We need this. Bagging Pierce is the key to our proxy defense. And the defense is life itself. See you at Plymouth Rock.”
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Once the helicopters landed onto Pierce's land and everyone was filed out into the vast green fields, Logan turned to his group and gestured for them to smile. He’d even gone out of his way to brush a stray piece of lint off of your coat for you whilst passing by. 
“I am smiling!” Roman haughtily protested when his father gave him a pointed glare.
“Yeah, not like a pervert,” said Shiv.
You grinned, laughing out, “That’s just how he looks, Shiv.”
“Hardee-har-har,” Roman spat out. Then, he watched as Logan linked arms with both Marcia and Shiv. “Wow, Jesus. Look at Papa Smurf. Should I be doing that with you guys?”
Both you and Tabitha glanced at each other, before walking onwards, flat out ignoring Roman. 
The Pierce family was waiting not too far from the helicopters, greeting everyone with apprehensive yet kind smiles. 
The woman who spoke had soft eyes and a round face. Not at all intimidating in stature, but you knew better than to judge a book by its cover. “Welcome to Ternhaven! Our city on the hill. I’m Nan Pierce—it’s nice to meet all of you. I think we’re going to have fun getting a look at all of you, won’t we?”
Both families drew nearer as everybody exchanged polite greetings. You shook hands with about half a dozen people, trying your best to keep up with names and faces. Once at the estate, someone had taken off your coat and offered you a glass of water before you’d even taken three steps inside. 
It was certainly a beautiful home. It felt more lived-in than Logan’s houses, with its abundance of paintings and framed pictures on the walls. The furniture was warmer and cozier—a stark contrast to Logan’s preference for sharp edges and monochrome colors.
Roman came up to your side and pointed at a Latin phrase inscribed into the archway. 
“In veritate triumpho,” he read aloud. “This wine is triumphant? No—your vagina trumpets!”
Passing by, Gerri sharply hushed him just as your shoulders began to shake with mirth.
“I triumph in the truth,” you told him. 
“Honesty is the best policy around here,” said a dark-haired man, appearing from seemingly nowhere. You heard Roman mutter Jesus H. Christ, beneath his breath, but you discreetly pinched his side before he could say anything else. You faintly recognized the man as Peter Pierce—a cousin of Nan. He’d been overly enthusiastic with his handshake, watching you with gleaming curiosity, complimenting you on your outfit. 
You weren’t blind. You knew attraction when you saw it—and Peter wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it.
“So… where’d you learn Latin?”
“Self taught,” you told him, smiling politely. “I’m not fluent. I just know a few bits and bobs here and there. Tried to learn during my college years.”
Before Peter could respond, Roman motioned gagging. “Barf. I’m gonna go see who Tabs is flirting with. See you nerds later.”
He slipped away, leaving you alone with Peter, much to your chagrin. 
The man was nice enough, sure, but he was being very obvious with the way his gaze lingered a tad too long on your chest. And when it wasn’t there, he was ogling your lips. It was a bit unnerving. 
“I’ve heard a lot about you, you know,” said Peter, arms crossed. 
“And I know next to nothing about you,” you airily responded, trying your best to keep your smile natural, though it proved increasingly difficult with each passing second.
“Well, that can be remedied, no?” he asked. 
You internally cursed at his forwardness. “Sure, yeah. Sounds great.”
And off he chattered, prattling on about his time with his company and what he studied during university, occasionally asking for your experiences as well. You only paid him half a mind, keeping the other occupied with observations of everybody else in the room. How Shiv had somehow managed to insult someone already, how Connor was talking about his presidential campaign with someone who so clearly didn’t agree with his views, and how Roman was guffawing at something Naomi and Tabitha were discussing.
“And what about the tabloids on you?”
“I’m sorry?” you asked, snapping your attention back onto Peter. 
“The tabloids about you and Roman. A lot of them discuss the two of you as a pair.”
Shrugging one of your shoulders, you shook your head. “Those are just baseless rumors.” You thought back to how you and Roman jerked off to each other through the phone. Not baseless at all, it seemed. “Roman and I are friends.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
Peter smiled. A part of you felt bad for stringing him along in such a way. He seemed like a nice enough guy, if you didn’t count all the uncomfortable ogling. “I just feel like we have a connection, you know? Do you feel it, too?”
“Mmh. Yeah, I’m feeling it.” You chanced a glance to Roman, who was staring straight at you with an impish grin. He saw right through your little facade—he knew you were miserable, and he was enjoying the shit out of it.
“That’s so good to hear. I knew you were different the moment I set eyes on you.”
“Wow. You really do have a way with words. Edgar Allen Poe up in here,” you joked loosely, trying your best not to sound deadpan. 
“You like Edgar Allen Poe, too? God, you’re like—fricking perfect for me. Excuse my French.” To your horror, Peter reached out to clasp your shoulder, steering you to a more quiet part of the room. “Tell me more about yourself. Things I don’t already know from the tabloids. What was it like growing up around the Roys?”
They were more of your family than your actual parents. They were the bane of your existence. They were everything to you. 
Before you could vocalize any of your thoughts (or, some poor, watered-down rendition of them), Logan shepherded the Waystar side of the group into another room for a short, private talk. You let out a long sigh as soon as you were far away enough from Peter, feeling your muscles loosen up. God, that man really did make you stiff in all the worst ways. 
“I think it’s going pretty well,” Roman said once everyone began filing through the door. “I mean, nobody’s fucked Nan or killed her cat by accident, so I think we’re doing pretty good.”
It seemed Logan didn’t quite agree, because he stormed up to his daughter, angrily demanding, “What the fuck did you say to Mark? Making cracks about his PhD?”
“It was a joke! He laughed.”
Frowning, Logan continued on, “He’s a yes, Shiv. He’s solid. Why are you even bothering him?”
The group began to then argue about Maxim, who Connor was supposed to persuade into the yes territory of the acquisition—which he was clearly failing.
“Cut the horseshit, know your roles!” barked your godfather. “Shiv, I want you on Nan.”
“Okay, Dad, we don’t have to be so schematic,” she protested, but her words went largely ignored.
Logan rounded on Roman, standing beside you. “Romulus. When you laugh, please do it at the same volume as everyone else. We didn’t get you from a hyena farm.”
“Thanks, Pop,” said Roman. You frowned, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.
“The good news is that Nan seems to be spending money in her head—but she could still be swayed by her family, so every cousin counts,” Gerri added.
“Everybody, stay in your lanes. Who’s on Peter?” asked Logan.
“I got it, Dad,” said Kendall.
Quirking a brow, Frank said, “Actually, Peter seems to be rather taken by Y/N. I think it’s a good idea for her to keep him entertained. He’s worried the rest of us are barbarians.”
You crossed your arms uncomfortably, but nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, uh, sure.”
“Pimp her out, why don’t you,” scoffed Roman. 
“Good. Everyone got their person? Let’s go, people. Stay focused, stay sharp!” barked Logan, and everyone began to pour out of the room at his dismissal. 
Roman clapped a hand on your forearm. “Hey, uh, if Prickly Pete there does anything—” He made an unintelligible noise while pulling a sour face. “You know the drill. Stop, drop, and roll.”
“That’s for a fire, Ro.”
“Yeah, but it’ll freak him out enough to leave you alone.”
You spared him a sarcastic smile, shaking your head. “Great advice. Thanks.”
“No, but seriously—just say you have to go to the bathroom or something. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
“Okay, Sauron,” you chuckled, shoving him away. “Go. Go and use your wily charms to seduce Naomi into making a terrible decision.”
It was his turn to offer you a lopsided grin. “That’s what I’m best at. Influencing women into years of regret.” With a click of his tongue and a wink, he was off.
 When you turned around, Peter was already waiting for you with an expectant expression. Ugh.
This was going to be a long weekend.
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The Pierces were a strange family. Who the fuck recited poetry as grace before dinner? Nonetheless, you clapped with a polite smile once Naomi was done with her little poem. Roman rolled his eyes none too discreetly and you kicked at his leg beneath the table. 
On your other side, Peter didn’t hesitate to dive into yet another lengthy conversation once everybody began eating. 
“I like to have three novels and a memoir going at once,” said the man with a flirtatious smile. “It’s like natural selection.”
You forced a laugh—one that sounded genuine to everyone but the Roys, who knew you well enough by now to know that you weren’t amused at all. 
“Hm. I think it’s rather redundant to pit literature against each other in such a competitive fashion. Art is art is art, no?” you responded, quirking a brow as you forked a portion of salad onto your plate. 
You’d hoped that your comment would deter Peter from talking more, but your challenge seemed to only invigorate him. 
“A bit of healthy competition in a given field never hurt anyone. Pushes people to create better things,” he said, leaning closer to you.
“Mm, well, respectfully, I disagree. I think art—literature, especially—can blossom organically, just for the sake of it. The idea that creativity flourishes under competition is, frankly, just capitalist propaganda,” you said. 
To your dismay, Peter tilted his head and quipped, “Isn’t that a bit ironic, coming from you? Goddaughter of one of the richest men in the world?”
Your eye twitched. Beneath the table, Roman nudged your foot. 
“It doesn’t matter who I am. My point still stands, no?”
“I suppose we can just agree to disagree. I still enjoy reading several pieces at once… maximum efficiency, right?”
Another fake laugh.
To your surprise, Roman swooped into the conversation, “Yeah, I hear you, brother!” he chirped, trying his best to sound like an intellectual normie—he wasn’t doing a very good job, so far.
Peter spared him a glance, which made him lean even closer to you. “Are you a big reader?”
“Me? Oh. Yeah, big time.” No, he wasn’t. Roman couldn’t even remember the last time he picked up a book and read past the first page. 
“Can you recommend anything Oprah isn’t pushing? Any new fiction?”
For a moment, Roman’s panicked eyes met your goading ones. He began to laugh, but cleared his throat when he realized that Peter was genuinely asking. 
“Oh, right, yeah, sure I can… I, uh, rather enjoyed The Electric Circus.” 
“The Electric Circus?” echoed Peter in a rather pretentious manner. “Who’s the author?”
“Oh, uh, shit! Who was it… it was uh, Timothy Lipton. Yup. That’s him.” Roman was a terrible liar. You were getting second-hand embarrassment just listening to him. 
Catching wind of her brother fumbling, Shiv asked, “Yeah? What’s it about, Rome?”
“Uh, it is… about a young man making his way through the world. Except in two different time periods, so it kinda switches back and forth between—uh, yup! And—and the circus part is like, you know, a metaphor.”
Shiv narrowed her eyes. “For what?”
“Ugh. For the anxiety of modern life, Siobhan.” Roman only ever called his sister that when he tried to provoke her, or when he was exasperated with her antics. “Ask Y/N. She read the book. Ask her.”
Incredulous, you swung your gaze from your food to him, brows pulling together.
“You’ve read The Electric Circus?” asked Peter. His phone was in his palms. “I’m not seeing it on Google… Are you sure that’s what it was called?”
You began to fumble with your words, internally cursing Roman for throwing you under the bus, as well. God, he was going to owe you a million favors from now on. 
“See, uhm, it was a private little thing, uh—it hasn’t been published yet, exactly. Roman and I were just, you know, we were given the pages because we, uh, we were thinking of funding the novel ourselves! So, yeah… I don’t know why Roman would go and recommend that to you when it isn’t even available to the public yet.” You spared Peter a sweet smile whilst simultaneously stomping on Roman’s toes beneath the table. He retaliated by pinching your thigh.
“Oh. I see. Maybe when it comes out we can talk about it over a cup of coffee, then.”
Roman snorted. You sent him a half-hearted glare.
“Sure. That’d be great,” you told him before the man-child on your other side could come up with a rude retort.
Thankfully, Peter was quick to move on to another topic. Something about how mediocre the movies have been getting as of late. What an asshole. 
The conversation was cut off not too soon later by the white nationalist elephant in the room, as Rhea had so eloquently put it—ATN. Logan had vehemently denied sharing their fascistic beliefs, though the Pierces were clearly still skeptical of your godfather. Hell, even you were. 
There was more tense silence when Logan was questioned on whether or not Tom would stay on as head of ATN. The matter was never resolved, as he excused himself with a lame excuse of his sick dog having arthritis, pulling Shiv out of the room with him. 
You and Roman exchanged confused looks. 
By the time they came back, Tabitha was telling one of the Pierces about her willingness to help out her friend. “I’m thinking, like, if they can’t have a baby in six months, I’m just going to offer them my womb. Why not, you know? I’m young, I’m hardy.”
“Wow, Tabs, that’s really nice of you,” you told her genuinely, sipping on some water.
“Good for you,” agreed Marnie Pierce. “I had a friend who did that, it was so great—”
And then there Peter went, butting his fat head into the conversation where it was clearly not needed. “Uh, but if it isn’t too rude of me to ask, what about you two?” He gestured to Roman and Tabitha.
The blonde woman chuckled. “Oh, you mean us planning to have a baby? No, we’re not planning for a baby, because that would require us having sex!”
“Woah!” exclaimed Roman. “Hey, now.”
Peter grimaced. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Yes, you did,” said Marnie, and Peter only shrugged sheepishly.
“No, no, no, it’s totally fine, it’s just not our thing,” Tabitha replied. “We’re kinda like eunuch besties. It works for us.”
Scratching the back of his head, Roman cleared his throat. “She’s joking. Obviously. She’s kidding. We’re actually quite relentless in that regard. Just… fuck city out here.” 
You almost choked on the water you’d been sipping, the memories of a certain call you had with Roman resurfacing to the forefront of your mind. 
“You okay, Y/N?” Peter asked, lightly patting your back. 
“Fine. Just down the wrong pipe,” you winced. “And, you know, the idea of Roman and Tabs going to pound town doesn’t exactly whet my appetite.”
“Oh, don’t be jealous,” said Roman. “It’s unbecoming.”
Before you could snip back, the table fell quiet when Nan Pierce asked who would be taking on the company after Logan. Your godfather purposefully skirted around the topic, evading a solid name entirely.
Then, Shiv made the terrible mistake of announcing herself as the next CEO.
“Wait, uh, what’s happening?” Peter queried.
“Mmh. I think my life just ended,” Roman responded, looking every bit as shocked as you.
More flubbering from both Logan and Shiv. They were fucking themselves over, you could just feel it.
“You know what, maybe this dinner was a little bit premature. Seems like you guys are still working some things out,” said Peter. 
“No, uh, this is just some family hijinks,” Kendall tried to protest.
Marcia leaned in closer to Logan to ask, “Is this true?”
That seemed to be the last straw for him, because he yelled out, “Will you stop?”
More tense silence. Your foot rested over Roman’s, which was bouncing up and down rapidly beneath your heel. His hand rested on your knee, gripping a tad too tight.
“Well. I was just thinking that it’s such a beautiful, clear night out. Mark—would you like to guide us on a little after-dinner stargaze?” Nan asked.
And with that, came the end of the dinner.
“Did you guys know?” Tabitha asked both you and Roman as the three of you pushed away from the table to head outside. 
“No. No, I didn’t,” said Roman, still in shock.
You had a feeling, sure—there was no way it’d be Connor. Not Kendall, because of his recent endeavors with trying to take over the company, along with his substance abuse. It was between Roman and Shiv, and it didn’t take a genius to see that Logan didn’t think his youngest son was all that competent. That left only Shiv, after all.
“I didn’t know,” you simply said. 
The three of you strode out, leaving only Shiv and Logan left in the dining room.
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“Those stars were really nice,” Tabitha said, lounging on the bed as Roman aggressively rummaged through the luggage in search of his toothbrush.
He was growing increasingly agitated about the idea of Shiv taking over the company, channeling his frustrations out on the poor suitcase for not presenting him his toothbrush on a golden pedestal. With a groan and a hand carding through his hair, Roman kicked at its side, sending the bag skidding against the wall.
“Ro,” Tabitha called. “I have a meeting on Monday, and I’d really love to deal with your neuroses and talk about it and everything but, uh, if you’re gonna lose your mind in here, I might just see if Naomi would let me crash in her bed.”
The man pulled on his face. He hummed once, then twice, as if he was deliberating over something.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s fuck.”
A disbelieving smile danced across her face. She thought he was full of shit. “Yeah, totally. We do the sex so well, so that’s a brilliant idea.”
Clenching his jaw, Roman clambered onto the bed. “Alright. Come on. Come here, you hot fucking piece of shit.”
He tried kissing her, but his nose knocked into hers the wrong way, his hand gripped at her shoulder at an awkward angle, and his lips fell onto only the upper corner of her mouth, barely even counting as a kiss. 
“Woah, easy there, wolfman!” She burst into a fit of laughter, and Roman pulled away with a string of insecure apologies, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, which throbbed from the impact. 
“That was awesome,” he bit out, lying face-down on the bed next to her. “I’m so fucking good at this. Sorry.”
“Yeah, you were, like, squeezing my shoulder really fucking hard—”
“Wasn’t that sexy? How I just took you? Bet you orgasmed like five times in a row.” Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Do you want to, though? Like actually?”
She smiled. “Mmkay. Do I want to…? Make love?”
He frowned. “Nope. Wow. I just—” A groan and a sigh.
Features softening, Tabitha reached out to rub at Roman’s back. “Hey. I’m not… uninterested in solving you.”
Roman turned to face her. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think we can make it, like… I don’t know… wrong?”
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Tabitha was supposed to be dead. Which—and Roman thought this was quite obvious—meant that she wasn’t supposed to be wet. Now, there were a million and one ways for them to have sex and have it be wrong (like how it felt with you, maybe), but he’d suggested for her to play dead because… well, because he didn’t want it to feel like he was having sex with her. 
The very thought of fucking Tabitha didn’t sit quite right with him. He liked her a lot, and she was fucking hot as shit, but Roman just… couldn’t. He just couldn’t! Maybe she was right. Maybe they were better off as eunuch besties.
And so it came as no shock to both parties when the dead woman sex didn’t end up working out. Tabitha murmured that the morgue was closing for the night—and that she’d go wank off in the bathroom with her electric toothbrush as a makeshift vibrator. Roman apologized to her again, and curled up in the middle of the bed.
What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have sex with his girlfriend, like any other fucking person would?
After five minutes of wallowing in his own shame, Roman dragged himself off the bed and did what he knew how to do best: he ran straight to you.
When there was a knock at your door, you were ninety percent sure it was Roman. The other, more terrified, ten percent anxiously wondered if it was Sleazy Pete coming to talk your ear off some more about the latest developments in artificial intelligence. 
To your relief, it was Roman, clad in a loose white shirt and soft, dark pants. 
“Hey, Romeo,” you greeted, pulling him in and glancing out the hallway, making sure nobody was around to see. “Man, am I glad to see you. I was really scared you were somebody else.”
He made a high-pitched, humorous noise, crossing his arms as you softly shut the door closed. “Peter? Oh, no. He’s too high and mighty to come chasing after you so early. He’s the kind to date the same person for ten years, accidentally cum inside one time and knock them up, which then keeps them chained to his side for the rest of his life. You’re good for now.”
“For now?” You were ready to make another quippy retort, when you noticed the way Roman scuffed his bare feet into the carpet, hand scratching at the back of his head. Something was bugging him. “What’s going on? What happened?”
“Huh? Nothing happened. Fuck off.”
Biting at the inside of your cheek, you reached out to him, holding both his hands within yours. “Rome.”
He parroted your name in an equally emphatic manner. 
You sat down on the bed, steering him to sit beside you. “Is this about Shiv?”
Oh. Right. He’d been so caught up with his guilt and shame over Tabitha that he’d momentarily forgotten about that other part of his life that was just majorly fucked over. 
Roman shrugged. “She fucked up bad, huh?”
You laid down, which prompted him to follow you, his head leaning on your shoulder. The two of you stared up at the ceiling together. 
“We all make mistakes. I think your dad probably led her on with a carrot painted with faux gold. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Your long-time friend made a noise of agreement. 
Comfortable silence stretched thinly between the two of you. Roman faintly noticed that your hair was damp—you’d probably taken a shower after the walk. After inhaling sharply, he caught a whiff of your body spray: sweeter than fucking cotton candy and it almost made him want to puke. Key word being almost—Roman rather liked the smell. Especially on you.
“You smell good.”
“Mmh. Thanks.”
You arched your back, bones popping with your movement as you mumbled under your breath sleepily. Something within Roman stirred. 
“I tried to have sex with Tabitha.”
Suddenly, you weren’t all that sleepy anymore. “Oh? How’d it go?”
“I…” Roman winced. Saying it out loud made it sound so much worse, for some reason. “I pretended she was dead.”
“What?” There was a mildly shocked laugh to your tone.
“Consensually!” he vehemently tacked on. “But, you know, she was fuckin’ dripping for me, so… took the experience away, I guess. I don’t know. I like her a lot. I just don’t… I don’t…”
“You don’t want to have sex with her?”
Another shrug. Roman blew out a drawn-out exhale. “Yeah. I dunno.”
“That’s okay, Rome. You don’t need to have sex if you don’t want to, and you shouldn’t feel bad about not wanting it. That’s literally the definition of consent.”
A part of Roman seemed to melt with your words. Your affirmation that there wasn’t something wrong with him (or, at least that one trait of his, he knew there were several other parts of him that you’d consider highly immoral) relieved him more than he’d care to admit.
“Well… I do want it. I just don’t want it with her, maybe?” His voice went all soft yet high-pitched at the end of the question.
Suddenly, you turned your head to him, your nose only a hair’s breadth away from his. 
“Well, Ro,” you began, husky and low, “who would you want it with?”
He didn’t need to say it. You knew already.
“Who do you want to touch you?” you murmured, hand reaching out to skim over his chest, his stomach, grazing over the very top of his pants and toying with the band of his boxers. “Who do you want to make you feel good, Romeo?”
A low whine caught within his throat when you leaned forward to kiss up the column of his throat, nipping at the skin lightly. All of his sanity seemed to fly straight out the window when your hand dipped within his boxer, tugging out his semi-hard cock, languidly stroking along the length. He moaned, chest rumbling with the sound.
Your eyelids hung low as you nosed along his jaw, which strained with how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Mmh, you’re a dirty little pervert, aren’t you? Sneaking away from your girlfriend to rut your pretty cock against me. You’re a mess and I’ve barely even touched you, Rome.”
It’d been so long. So fucking long since someone touched him this way. Since he’d let someone touch him like this. Since he wanted someone to touch him like this. It was all you. Just you, and only you.
And so, it was no wonder that he was nearing his orgasm already, twitching within your grasp as he whined louder. He murmured unintelligibly, pleading for something he didn’t yet know. 
“Can you be a good boy and cum for me?” you susurrated, planting kisses over his jaw, his cheek, the bridge of his nose. You didn’t dare kiss him on the lips—you weren’t quite sure if that would be too far for your peculiar relationship. 
When he came, a loud groan erupted from his throat, which was quickly muffled when you clapped a palm over his mouth, his eyes flew open to meet yours, pupils fully blown, almost eclipsing the molten brown of his irises. You stroked him through his orgasm, murmuring a mixture of degradations and praises all the way.
You pulled back when he began to jerk his hips away with overstimulation, panting against your palm. The sticky spend on your hand glistened beneath the lamp’s warm-hued light, and you brought it up to your face to kitten-lick his cum off his fingers, humming in satisfaction. The sight nearly made Roman pass out. He swallowed hard, propping himself up on the bed on an elbow.
Voice hoarse, he croaked out, “Thanks. Do you, uh… do you need…”
Yes. You wanted it so badly—you wanted him. 
But you knew Roman wasn’t really in the right mindspace to reciprocate anything at the moment. And the guilt that weighed heavy in your stomach would’ve only been worsened if you’d pressured him into anything that he might’ve been uncomfortable with. 
Baby steps. The two of you had been taking baby steps in your relationship ever since you were, well… babies.
“I’m fine, Rome,” you told him, ignoring the drenched throbbing between your thighs and crawling up next to him to lay down. “You can repay me in the future.”
The haze from his orgasm was beginning to clear away. Roman’s nose buried into your sweet-smelling hair. “With, like, a fuckin’ Baskin Robbins coupon or my tongue up your vagina?”
A soft laugh and a shake of your head. “Both sound wonderful,” you told him, curling up into his warmth. A wave of sleepiness overtook you. It’d been a really long day. “Night, Rome.”
“Night, fuck-face.” 
You might’ve simply hallucinated it in your sleep-addled mind, but you could feel a faint brush of lips on your forehead, along with a whisper of thanks. You fell asleep with a smile on your face that night. Roman had taken a picture (with the flash on, which made for quite unflattering lighting) and sent it to you the next morning, giggling his amusing hyena-giggle while the two of you were in the bathroom—with you brushing your teeth and him perched up on the toilet seat lid. It was a tender moment of picturesque domesticism—a life that didn’t quite seem right for the two of you, unless it was with each other.
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The rest of the weekend at the Pierce’s estate was uneventful. Everybody had gone home thinking the deal wasn’t going to go through—Shiv had told you her dad fucked everything by refusing to name her as the next CEO.
But, to everyone’s surprise except Logan’s, Nan Pierce ended up calling only a few hours later that she’d sell. You weren’t quite happy with the turn of events, but you supposed that’s just how it was with Logan. 
He always won.
Argestes, a business conference for important folk all over the world, was just under a month later. It was a rather prestigious event, the itinerary always decked with the most ludicrously rich and fanciful activities, with only limited invites handed out. 
This was to be your sixth annual year attending. 
You arrived with Roman practically draped over you, much to the press’ delight. After he made a snide comment about how manipulative you could be when it came to business, you bid him adieu, off to fraternize and mingle with potential allies you might need in your pocket. You were just grateful not to bump into Peter Pierce—the last thing you wanted to do was have him glued to your side for the rest of the weekend. 
The next day, when you’d just barely stepped out of your room, you got a frantic text from Roman. It was a link to a journal article about the cruise incidents, followed by a series of question marks and an indiscernible mash of emojis. The last text gave you the room he and his family were in. 
You rushed off to meet them there, checking your constantly buzzing phone along the way to see texts fly from dozens of people: Shiv, Gerri, your colleagues, your friends, your coworkers alike. This wasn’t a good look for the company, that was for sure. 
When you finally got there, Roman quirked a brow at you. “Have you read this? Tell me this isn’t the greyest shit you’ve ever read.”
“Give me a second, I’ve barely even woken up, much less had time to read the article.” You settled in beside him, opening up the link to begin reading. From across the room, Logan was skimming through a physical copy, glasses on the very tip of his nose as he mumbled under his breath. Shiv was on the other end, waiting for everyone to finish reading. 
Finally, you reached the end of the article, slumping back with furrowed brows. “This is, uhm, serious stuff but it’s also really unclear what’s actually being thrown at the wall here.”
“Maybe this, maybe that bullshit,” Roman uttered.
“Rome, careful,” said Kendall.
“Is this one of those things I need a woman to explain to me why it’s bad?” His head knocked into yours. “You tell me—is it bad?”
Offering him a shrug, you huffed out a sigh and scrolled all the way back up to read it again. “It’s bad, it’s fucking awful someone had to go through this—but in all honesty, I expected far worse for a journal article to blow up this much.”
Growing frustrated, Logan ripped his glasses off. “What’s the protein?”
A man you only faintly recalled as Hugo Baker, part of the Parks and Cruises sector, replied, “They found a woman, Keerson. She was working the cruises back in the mid nineties, and name-checked Lester McClintock.”
Gerri nodded. “She says Uncle Mo asked for sex with her and the other dancers to get their contracts renewed.”
“So they fucked?” Logan asked.
“It says sexual exploitation,” clarified Shiv.
“Said subject of the article is dead,” you chimed in. “So the blame on Mo will effectively be shifted onto Waystar. Negligence of ethical conduct, cruise malpractice, so on and so forth.”
A moment of silence filled the room.
“Well, what can we do about it?” Roman queried. 
Gerri said, “There’s not a lot of specifics. It’s not detailed. Cold hard facts: it’s one woman in the nineties, not twenty women four years ago.”
This made Kendall’s face sour, as he pulled the bill of his cap down lower over his face. “Great. I’m glad we’re so good at doing victim math.”
“Yeah, well, Gerri’s just saying it doesn’t necessarily punch through,” Shiv defended.
The older brother gestured to his phone. “Sure, but… this is not okay.”
“We know it’s not okay, that’s why we’re preparing a corporate response,” the redhead bit back. 
The conversation moved on to PR, which Gerri claimed to be Preston. This was met with Shiv’s vehement disapproval—they were three disgusting, old white dudes who, in her words, would just claim the women to be money-grabbing sluts.
“Call me sociopathic but isn’t this a tiny bit quaint in comparison to the past few years?” asked Roman. 
You bit down on the inside of your cheek in thought. “I think they’re hyperfixating on this right now because they see it as a gap in the chainmail. Mo is dead. He’s not around to bear the weight of blame on his shoulders.”
“We’re being punished for the sins of others,” claimed Logan. “No one real gives a fuck.”
You narrowed your eyes at the hot take. 
For once, you seemed to agree with Kendall when he shook his head. “No, no, we can’t be seen to minimize. I think we need to loudly and quickly say that this is not okay.”
“The question is, what would make it go away the fastest? Do we say it’s something and fix it, or say that it’s nothing and fuck off?” Gerri asked.
“Something,” pushed Kendall. “There has to be consequences.”
To your frustration, Shiv shook her head. “Nope. Condemn and move on. It’s just good advice.”
“Not to be the only frilly-pink feminist in the room, but this isn’t something to sweep under the rug. It may not seem that serious at first glance because of the vagueness but a few dozen women’s lives were ruined, and that’s just barely what we know because of the NDAs. If we ignore it now, it’ll come back to bite the company in the ass later down the line. The least we can do is compensate them, no?” you said, crossing your arms.
Sinking into a wooden chair that creaked beneath his weight, Logan threw his hands up. “This is bullshit. It’s all about me! It’s not real, it’s not honest. They don’t give a flying fuck for these poor bitches. They hate me! And I won’t be giving them the satisfaction of giving in. So no—condemn and move on.” 
You wanted to bury your face in your hands and scream. But you didn’t. You stood still and expressionless. 
They started discussing the panel for later that day. The original plan was for it to be Kendall and Roman up there, but having a woman up there would be much more… fitting given the well-timed article’s release. Shiv haughtily refused, but softened upon her dad asking her if she would. 
She’d think about it. 
And with that, the group began to file out. 
The hours trickled on by and before you knew it, there was only ten minutes until Roman and Kendall were supposed to go up for the panel. You were helping Rome rehearse through what he was supposed to say, even though you didn’t agree with the direction they were taking with simply condemning—it was better than not addressing it at all. 
It was all going smoothly until Shiv burst through the doors, declaring that she wanted to be up there for the panel, much to both Kendall and Roman’s dismay.
“Come on, man. It’s panicky as fuck,” said the eldest of the three. “It looks… kind of fucking cheesy, to be honest. Like we’re throwing our token woman at it? The woman who’s not even in our company?”
“Well, it can’t be two men up there right now. It just—it can’t. Right?” Shiv rounded her gaze to you, and you shrugged half-heartedly. 
“I don’t know, Shiv.”
Standing up, Hugo suggested, “Well, the audience is just expecting Roys, so—maybe we stick at two and someone relaxes.”
Logan’s gaze fell on his youngest son. “Romulus.”
“What? You want to pull me? That—that looks like a humiliation,” your friend heatedly defended. 
“We could just say you got sick,” Hugo said.
Both you and Roman made eye contact and you nodded at him to defend himself.
“No. No, you can’t just fuckin’ bump me ten minutes before the panel. That’s bullshit! Fuck that. Respectfully, dad, why is Shiv even here?” he hissed.
“I was invited,” Shiv replied in a serrated tone.
Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, no, I need to be out there. We need to hang together. You know, like, family.”
Rolling her eyes, Shiv drew herself to her full height. “Oh, so you wanna get Connor on the line, get him to come down here, too? Let him dog-pile on so no one’s nose gets put out of joint?”
“I’ll put your nose out of joint!”
“Oh, yeah, you should say that on the panel—!” Shiv pursed her lips. “If you wanna know what I really think—I think you should drop both of them and I’ll do it solo.”
This time, you were quick to say, “Shiv, I love you, but you’re not part of the company yet. To shove you up there alone would look like fucking… empty wokeness. Like we’re smothering the problem with estrogen and calling it a day.”
Roman nodded. “Pretty desperate, Shiv—exploiting the situation for personal gain, hm?”
The three siblings bickered some more until it grew quite cumbersome and repetitive. 
Two minutes until the panel.
Logan held up three fingers, and that was the end of that.
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The panel was… certainly a panel.
It was a lot of dancing around the subject between Kendall and Shiv. You were pretty sure Roman had only said a grand total of two short sentences. 
“We’ll do whatever it takes, you know? We’ll do whatever anyone wants,” he had said. 
From where you were watching on a screen backstage, you face-palmed with a sigh.
By the end, Shiv had made the fatal mistake of implying that Logan should step down from his position, going so far as to call him an old dinosaur. 
It was a shitshow, painted over with glitter and rainbows. In all honesty, it was an embarrassment to even associate yourself with the company at this point. There went all your business schmoozing and fraternizing for the past two days—right down the drain.
“Nice. Bring your daughter to the slaughter. Did you tell the old dinosaur what you were going to do?” Roman asked his twin once the three siblings returned to the room you were in. 
“Hey, I’m sorry, ‘We will do whatever anyone wants?’ What the hell was that?” Kendall asked.
Shrugging, Roman clapped both his hands on your shoulders from behind, squeezing your tensed muscles. “Fuck it, right? It’s just words. There’s no press, anyway. Who gives a shit?”
It was then that Logan walked in, Marcia and Gerri in tow. Roman’s hands slipped away from you to go pour himself a drink and stand by his father.
“It was too much, Siobhan,” said their stepmother. “Dinosaurs?”
Ducking his head, Kendall nodded. “It was over the line. Shiv was over the line.”
Brows cinching, Shiv protested, “Oh, I think it was pretty clear that I was talking about—”
Roman interrupted after taking a long sip of champagne. “No, it was clear, yeah. You tortured the old dinosaur. Barbecued him alive—!”
In a blink of an eye, Logan swung around and back-handed his son straight across the jaw, bellowing out, “Don’t fuck with me!”
The hit rang loud and true across the room. Flesh on flesh, skin on skin, father to son, boot to dog.
Roman fell back with a muffled noise, and you were immediately shooting out of your seat to curl a protective arm around him, placing yourself between him and his aggrieved father. Commotion sprung out—Kendall vehemently yelling at Logan not to touch his brother as if he were a valiant hero, Gerri trying her best to quell the situation with reassuring words.
But all the noise was drowned out in your ears. It was just you and Roman.
It was like you were children all over again, watching with watery eyes as young Roman tried his best to pick himself up after Logan’s frequent beatings. You hadn’t even noticed that your eyes had welled up with a warbling film of stinging tears, heart slamming against your ribcage with staggering, uneven jolts. 
He hunched over, working his jaw and spitting into his palm a second later. 
A tooth fell past his lips, flecked with blood and spit. You could feel your lips twitch downwards as you tried your hardest not to cry.
Kendall flanked to his left, his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and Shiv stood in front of him.
“Rome—you alright?” they both asked. “You okay?”
He worked his jaw again, then shrugged off Kendall’s hand. He was in no mood to be coddled by anyone but you.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fucking fine! Just fucking—leave me alone. I’m fine.” As you began to lead him away, he called over his shoulder. “It’s just a tooth. I’ll get another one.”
Once it was just the two of you in the hallway, Roman dropped the act. It hurt like hell, and he felt safe enough around you not to have to put up a front.
You tugged him into your room with a mildly haunted expression, fingers gripping far too tightly into Roman’s arm. He walked into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out. The water ran a dark shade of pink. 
As he gingerly began brushing his teeth with a spare toothbrush you handed him, you studied his reflection. He stared back, hating how worried you looked for him. 
“You want me to call a medic?” you asked, voice small. “There’s a few on site.”
Roman squinted at nothing in particular, humming. His tongue ran along the part of his gums that throbbed the most. It tasted like copper. A familiar taste. Nostalgic, even.
“No.”
“Do you need to be alone?”
“Fuck, no.”
You rolled a tissue into a tightly-packed bundle, telling him to bite down on it to stop the bleeding. He did as you told, but not without complaining about it tasting like ass. It actually tasted like nothing, but Roman wanted to make you smile. He hated seeing you so worked up.
With that, the two of you made your way out of the bathroom. You made him sit down on your bed and wrapped your arms around him, clinging onto him like a koala to a tree trunk. The both of you slowly kicked off layers of your clothes, trying your best not to break hold of each other in the process. Shoes first, then jackets, then pants, then button-ups.
You were left in a dark short sleeve and your underwear, and he’d tossed off all his clothes except his boxers. 
“The Argie awards are in an hour,” said Roman. His lips brushed against your collarbone as he rested his forehead onto the slope of your shoulder.
“I wouldn’t have stripped down to nearly nothing if I was planning on going.”
“You’re gonna miss dinner. You’ll starve to death—and you won’t be allowed to blame me for it.”
“I have a banana somewhere in here. Plus—room service is only a call away.”
“Mmh. Mmkay.”
The tooth was still curled inside his clenched fist. 
“Wait,” you murmured against him, crawling off his lap to grapple for your wallet that you’d left on the nightstand. Roman murmured unhappily at the loss of warm contact, rubbing his palms up and down your legs. “I don’t really carry cash around these days but… I always keep a few spare coins in here.”
He watched as you fished through the slits, brandishing first a dime, then a nickel. Another dime.
Then you pulled out a quarter, grinning widely.
“I’m supposed to slip this under your pillow while you’re sleeping, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me get up for the rest of the night,” you whispered, crawling back to him and throwing a leg over his waist. He curled his own legs around you as well, leaning his weight into you. His head throbbed, his jaw throbbed harder, his heart throbbed the most. 
The cool metal of the quarter fell into his free hand. Then, he unfurled his fist. You stared down at the bloody tooth with unsure eyes.
“You have pretty teeth,” you told him after snapping out of your initial frozen state, pressing your nose into his uninjured cheek. “Even when we were kids, you had the prettiest pearly whites.”
Roman smiled, even though it ached to. “I remember you chased me around for my tooth once. Like a fucking freak.”
“Hm. You loved it, Romey.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he said, trying his best to be dismissive. Then, he craned his arm to place the tooth on the nightstand. 
You yawned, and he followed closely after you.
“It’s only eight at night. We’re falling asleep at fuckin’... fucking granny hour,” he grumbled.
A giggle, cut off by another yawn. “I don’t blame us. It’s been a long day. Sweet dreams, Romeo.”
“Night, fuck-face.”
“You know I love you, right?” you whispered. A light kiss to his throat as he swallowed.
“Obviously. You’re infatuated with me. Obsessed, even.”
If one was infatuated-slash-obsessed with the other, it’d most certainly be Roman.
You hummed and grinned into him. You didn’t deny his words, merely huffing with amusement. “I’m going to take your tooth and sell it on EBay for a hundred bucks.”
I’m fucking in love you, he wanted to scream.
“Fuck off,” he said. “It’s worth a million bucks at least. Shut up—stop fucking smiling, you freak. Go to sleep.”
You settled against him some more, and drifted off a few minutes later, listening to his heart beat from his throat.
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You weren’t entirely sure what had transpired during the last few hours of Argestes, but there was one thing made clear: Nan Pierce had called off the acquisition entirely. You had no idea what to think of the entire situation anymore. You were just… tired of it all.
Not long after, a team had called you in to record a video message for Logan’s big fiftieth anniversary at Waystar. You were given very little time to figure out what to say, and so your message was short and sweet:
“Hey, Uncle Logan. I think we all owe you a bit of gratitude for giving half a century of your life to the large, ever-expanding field we call media. You’ve always been a constant figure in my life—heh, more constant than my own parents. I couldn’t imagine where I’d be without you. Congratulations, and I look forward to the next fifty years working by your side.”
It wasn’t over the top, and only slightly sugar-coated with falsities. 
Once you stepped out of the recording booth, Roman shot you a grin. “Cocksucker,” he teased. “There you go—something you and Rhea can bond over.”
You prodded his chest with stiff fingers. “Shut up,” you fondly told him.
“How’d you even get all that in one fucking take? They had me say ‘I love you, Dad’, like, ten times in a row.”
Before you could retort back, the two of you bumped into Shiv, who was typing away furiously at her phone. 
“What do you guys reckon—you think Dad is boning Rhea?” she asked.
With a snort, Roman strode away to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Can’t wrap my head around that. Too steamy. Too hot.”
“You are a walking Freudian complex, you know that, Ro?” you asked him, bumping his hips with yours so he’d move over as you fixed your own drink. “I don’t wanna think about it, honestly. Who my godfather fucks is really none of my business.”
“You’re just jealous. You want daddykins all to yourself!” said Roman in a sing-song voice, which made you purposefully step onto his toes. “OW!”
The hot coffee jostled over the rim of his cup and some of it sloshed onto his chest. He sent you a glare and you kissed his cheek with a sweet smile before moving off to sit next to Connor.
“Yeah, yeah, but we should, like, talk about what this means. We’re… we’re all sensing the shift, right?” asked Shiv.
“Gerri says she’s the new thing,” said Roman as he took a seat beside you, obnoxiously leaning back to drape both his legs over your thighs.
Connor lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, it just so happens that Gerri was the new thing a while back.”
“Mmh—Logan made it clear that she was more or less there as a placeholder,” you said, sipping on your cup, watching the siblings over the rim. “Come on—there’s no way Logan is handing the company over to a woman, much less a woman older than fifty. It’s a shame, because Gerri really could’ve been a great CEO had she been given an actual chance.”
It didn’t go past your notice to see Shiv’s face contort with dismay at your words. Not too long ago, she’d been under the impression that Logan was handing the company over to a woman—her. 
“I just think we need to be careful,” she said.
“Awh, what’s wrong? You all wedgied up because Rhea stood on your back and worked your arms like an elliptical?” asked Roman, which made both you and Connor snort with amusement.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, we should probably have a plan. You know, in case Dad does something rash.”
It was then that Connor was called away to record his message, and Kendall sauntered in just a minute later. His jacket and pants were noticeably rumpled and a pair of sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Only assholes like Kendall would wear sunglasses indoors.
“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted everyone.
“You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday—you want us to think you got laid. Nice try.” Both you and Roman giggled like schoolgirls, which only had the older man rolling his eyes. 
“Well, have fun discussing killing Rhea—” you began.
“There wasn’t anything about killing—” protested Shiv.
“I’m gonna head out. Gotta get some work done before the flight to Dundee. Which, is so fucking over the top, by the way. Even my parents are going for this. They weren’t there for any of my birthdays in the past twenty years, but sure, let’s go to Uncle Logan’s celebration for his fiftieth year working at Waystar.” You nudged Roman’s legs off of yours so you could stand up. 
Rome’s eyes widened. “Your parents are coming? Damn. Rhea really went all out, didn’t she?”
You frowned. “Feels more like a personal affront to me than anything. Not looking forward to seeing them, but whatever. See you guys later.”
They all murmured their farewells and you patted Roman’s knee softly before heading out.
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Dundee was cold. So cold that you had to wear two layers of thermal socks, and your toes were still cold. Roman made fun of you the entire way into the hotel room, joking about icicles forming beneath your chin. 
Once you were finally inside, you cranked your heater up as high as it could go, shedding all your layers off with a grateful moan. It’d been a long flight, and you were exhausted.
Roman laid down on your bed, lazily turning his head to follow your movements as you flitted to and fro around your room, unpacking your essentials.
“There’s better ways to warm up than hanging your wrinkled button-ups,” he quipped. One of his brows quirked upwards in an almost seductive manner.
You laughed at that, fishing out articles of clothing from your luggage. “You’re all bark and no bite, Roman. Besides—you literally brought Tabitha to this event. Where even is she, anyway?”
With a shrug, he remarked absentmindedly, “Oh, she’s off exploring all the joys of Scotland.”
“So… grass and sheep?”
He laughed his hyena-laugh. “Yeah, grass and sheep.” Then, he propped himself up on an elbow to face you properly. “Did you bring a date?”
“Ugh. Didn’t want to bring one. Not with my parents coming. It’ll be a nightmare.”
Something in Roman’s eyes softened. “I would’ve been your date if, uh, if I hadn’t already asked Tabs. To be fair, I asked her before I knew about your parents. I can kick her back to America right now if you ask.”
You paused in your ministrations. “Stop it. I like Tabs. She’s nice. And I wouldn’t have wanted you to be my date out of pity, anyway.”
Roman lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug, lips pursed. “It wouldn’t be pity if I wanted to.”
A beat of silence. 
You blew out a sigh. “I’m really here for the image. I’ll say hi to my parents, and then avoid them for the rest of the night.”
“I can help you with avoiding them.”
“Hm?”
“Gerri wants me to secure funding for Waystar to go private. As a… back up plan, in case everything combusts into fuckin’ flames. She wants me to target Eduard. Seduce him, or whatever. You can come with—butter him up with all your oozy corporate rank and that—that pretty face on your face. He wouldn’t be able to resist if we double-combo him.” Roman shot you a lopsided smile that only lifted one corner of his lips. You pushed away the urge to coo at the fact that he called your face pretty. “Or… you can flit around with all of Dad’s cocksuckers and awkwardly bump into your parents two hundred times before the waterworks break out and you make an embarrassment of yourself in the middle of the celebration.”
Done with putting away your clothes, you made your way to the bed and sat down beside him, your shoulder pressed up flush over his. 
“You’re a lifesaver, Rome. Yeah, of course I’ll come.”
“Yeah, yeah. You can repay me with a blowjob.”
You laughed, but a small part of you wondered if he was serious.
“Any other ways I can repay you? None that could, uhm, potentially warrant a lawsuit?”
Roman scratched at his chin in thought. “Yeah, actually—what if we got, like, married?” His voice went all soft and high-pitched. Lilting. Tentative. 
Your eyes widened at first, then narrowed thinly. “What?” you asked, partially incredulous. He was joking, right?
Right?
“Not like—” He gestured aimlessly. “Not like that. Not actual marriage. Like something equivalent to that—like me chaining you down in the basement, or something. Like me kidnapping you and keeping you hostage.”
“Romeo, what the hell are you talking about?” You sat forward, your face all the closer to his. “In what world is that equivalent to marriage?”
Nervous anxiety clawed within his stomach. “Jesus Christ, I’m not talking about marriage. Just something on that fucking level of us being tied together. I don’t know, you chop off my dick, I chop off your tongue, whatever the fuck. You know, like, you eat me, I eat you—like they do in Germany.”
You were pretty sure that’s not what they did in Germany.
“You know what I mean.” His eyes were pleading, asking you for something you weren’t quite sure of.
“I… I don’t think I do?” You took one of his hands. “Rome, what’s going on? You’re being… weirder than normal. Did something happen with Tabitha?”
Because he was in love with you and he had no idea how to say it. 
The answer to Roman was simple: he just wouldn’t.
Hastily, Roman pulled away from your touch. He rolled off the bed in one single motion, almost tumbling over his own feet as he scrambled to the door. He tried to ignore your crestfallen expression watching him put more distance between the two of you.
“No, nothing happened with Tabitha. Just, uh—just think about it. I’ll text you the details to meet Eduard. Bye!” He was already halfway out the door with his last word.
You screwed your lips to the side in puzzled exasperation, and blew out a heavy sigh.
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The pub was nearly empty, save for a snogging couple near the back, and a few scattered about the seats casually sipping their ale as they watched the soccer match on the mounted television above the bar. Amongst them was Eduard, standing out like a sore thumb with his crisp suit and his dark, slicked-back hair. Just the sight of him seemed to cost money.
“My God, you smell like cotton candy—I almost want to lick your neck. Don’t you want to lick his neck, Y/N?” Roman asked instead of greeting him like any regular person would.
You shot him a half-hearted glare before sticking your hand out. Roman had always been one to overstep boundaries. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Asgarov.”
“Oh, please, Eduard is fine. And the pleasure is all mine,” he languidly drawled, eyes darting up and down your form as a pleased smile curled the corner of your lips. He firmly clasped your palm in a handshake. “I’ve heard much about you—general manager… the glue of the company, some people say. But Roman never mentioned that you were so beautiful.”
A large part of Roman’s insides bristled with hostility, an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he plastered on a strained smile anyway. “Yup, yeah, forgot to mention. But, uh, yeah, thanks for coming, man. My dad’s going to be very pleased when he sees old friends and whatnot…” He waved the bartender over to order himself a pint, and added on a non-alcoholic beverage for you—he knew you didn’t like to drink during the day. Then, he caught sight of the television. “What’s this? Who’s playing?”
“Scottish,” replied Eduard, taking a sip of his own beer. “I’m thinking of getting in.”
 Your eyebrows raised a notch. “Mmh, smart choice. Lots of buried money in European soccer leagues.”
Eduard spared you a warm smile.
A frown crossed Roman’s features—he was starting to regret inviting you, even though he’d been the one to suggest you flirt him up. 
“Scottish kicky-ball,” he remarked. “Looks like two eunuchs trying to fuck a letterbox.”
His foul comment went largely ignored by the two of you. 
Eduard was certainly an attractive man, you thought once you watched his tongue draw out to run along his lips in thought. “I’m liking the look of Hibs,” he said, eyes trained on the television, flitting down to glance at you for a second. “Or Hearts. I’m undecided.”
“Hearts?” asked Roman. “That’s my dad’s team. The only childhood relic he can stomach.”
Hazy memories of seven-year-old you peeking over the expensive leather couches to see what your godfather was watching on screen came across your mind. It always cycled through the same three channels: ATN, soccer, and old black-and-white English films from the fifties. You never stayed for long, always darting out of the room in fear of him turning to see you there, watching along with him. But from the little that you did catch a glimpse of—you could only barely recall the green insignias and jerseys of the Hibs on the screen.
“I think he was a Hibs fan, no?” you asked, thanking the bartender when he slid your drink over. 
Roman scoffed. “Pfft—I think I’d know which team dad likes.” You didn’t bother trying to argue with him. After all, your childhood memories weren’t exactly the most reliable source.
With a half-minded hum, Eduard said, “I’ve got an agent in Spain. I buy the club, he loans me nine shit-hot players. Climb the ladder, take the second Champion’s League space, UEFA goes full European super-league, flip it, walk away.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds fucking slick, dude,” Roman replied, sipping on the frothy part of his drink. “Slicker than cum on a dolphin’s back.”
“You want in?” asked Eduard.
“Mmh, maybe. But before all that—can we talk about what we talked about before? You know, a major injection, or even taking us private. Have you talked to your dad?” asked Roman. 
A smile and a nod. “It’s a conversation we can have—I have total, three-sixty latitude to work on my father’s behalf.”
“Great. Yeah, cool. No, me too. Yup.”
He didn’t, but you wisely kept your mouth shut. 
“Weird, how much we’re the same,” said Roman, playfully punching Eduard’s shoulder.
“Yeah, you guys are practically twins,” you quipped, smiling over the rim of your glass. “Couldn’t tell the two of you apart.”
The dark-haired man tilted his head. “Buy them with me. We’ll split it fifty-fifty.”
“I, uh…” Roman spared you a look, silently asking you if he was being stupid with his rashness. “I don’t really see a downside, other than zero knowledge or interest in Scottish football. But, yeah! Hearts. Sounds fun.”
“Hibs,” you said.
Roman wrinkled his nose. “Hearts.”
“Hearts, it is,” said Eduard.
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It wasn’t Hearts. 
After Kendall’s laughable rap song about—what was it—stanning his dad and calling him the OG, Roman had broken the news that he’d bought the Hearts club as a present for Logan on such a special day.
Logan fixed the three of you with a blank stare. 
“The Hearts?” he echoed.
Roman spread his arms, wiggling the tips of his finger in a sad rendition of jazz hands. “Mhm.”
“Hearts Football Club?”
Roman nodded.
Shiftily, Logan looked towards you. He always looked to you for clarification when he couldn’t understand his son—which was quite often.
“Uhm, Roman bought the Hearts for you,” you said, voice small.
“It’s your team, right?” Rome asked.
A beat of silence.
“I’m Hibs,” said your godfather.
You fucking knew it.
“You’re Hibs,” parroted Roman, his shoulders beginning to droop. “Really? Are you sure? I thought you were Hearts—I’m pretty sure you were Hearts, dad.”
Scratching at his chin, Logan softly said, “You know what, maybe you’re right. Hm. How would I know what team I’ve supported all my fucking life? Who knows—maybe I supported Kilmarnock. Or Fucklechester Rangers? I mean, how could I possibly know?”
Roman recoiled as if he’d been kicked. Eduard patted his shoulder, and brushed his hand along your lower back as he slipped away, chest burning with secondhand embarrassment. 
“Sorry, Uncle Logan, there’s just been a, uh, a miscommunication—” you said, hastily tugging Roman away. The two of you wove through the crowd until you got out of the large room, into one of the quieter halls. 
You chewed on your bottom lip, watching Roman frustratedly pace back and forth in front of you. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he snapped out, “I thought he was fucking Hearts, dude!”
“... I told you, Ro.”
He scowled. “Ugh. Shut up.”
Before you could ask if he could maybe switch somehow, two figures pushed through the doors, coming to stand in front of you. You tore your gaze away from the flustered man, fixing your eyes on—
Fuck.
“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N,” said your mother. In her hand was a glass of wine, half empty. “You’ve grown quite a bit. Have you gained weight?”
She reached out, but you immediately stepped back, closer to Roman. 
After getting over your initial shock, you cleared your throat and tentatively responded, “Hi, mom. Dad.”
The couple gave you an awkward onceover. It’d been years since you last saw them, with maybe one or two texts exchanged every year for the holidays. Though, even that wasn’t a guarantee.
“We, uhm, we saw you rush out with Roman here and thought we’d say hello,” said your father, sparing you a terse smile.
“Wow.” Roman, unsurprisingly, inserted himself into the conversation. “And the parents of the year award goes to…”
“You thought you’d say hello. Jesus—I haven’t seen either of you in fucking forever and the first thing you do is nitpick at my appearance?” you growled, fists clenching by your side. “Listen, if you want to be in my life, then be in my life. But you can’t pretend that everything is okay when you see me and then promptly waltz off and disappear for another decade or two.”
Your mother sipped at her wine, at a loss for words. They glanced at each other, both wearing a mildly guilty expression, but had really nothing to defend themself with.
With an angry scoff, you stormed back into the room where Logan was about to give his closing speech, shoulder roughly knocking into your father’s as you brushed past him. 
Roman scratched the back of his head, left alone with your parents. 
“For the record, Y/N is doing fucking great without either of you. You know—crunching those numbers, being a goddamn messiah for the lower-level employees, fucking the boss. All that jazz.” He grinned and hum-laughed when their eyes widened in shock, and sauntered in after you. It wasn’t exactly that white of a lie. You’d given him a handjob and the two of you technically had phone sex—would those two activities put together constitute as one whole traditional, in-person fuck?
He’d come in to stand beside you and Tabitha just in time to hear his father make the announcement.
“... And I shall be appointing Rhea Jarrell as my Chief Executive Operator.”
The crowd burst into applause. Roman clapped with a faux-surprised expression. When he glanced at you, you were wiping the corner of your eyes with the back of your palm and hastily clapped along.
Once the cheers began to mellow away, Roman stopped clapping to lace his fingers through the gaps of yours, squeezing tight. Your eyes watered even more at the contact, but you squeezed back in gratitude.
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There was an interview of  James Weissel on the television: a whistleblowing interview tossing Gerri, Kendall, and Tom into the stinking shitpot that was the cruise incidents, accusing the three of covering up McClintock’s actions. Logan had shut it off before anybody could finish watching.
Whilst everyone was busy prattling off about how bad of a situation this was, Gerri seemed to be the one lighthouse amidst the storm.
“I say we tell the truth,” she calmly said, adjusting her glasses to sit higher up her nose. “The family knew nothing of this. We throw Mo overboard. Mo, bad apple. Jim Weasel, bad apple. Spies a book deal—sotto voce, backed by Sandy and Stewy. All corporate fuckery, no real concern. In terms of historic shit? I say we give up Bill. He should’ve let us know what he discovered rather than cleaning up without telling us the details.”
Bill had been the old Tom before Tom was, well, Tom.
And so there was the strategy: letting Bill take the fall, and kill him off. It wasn’t… a decision you necessarily felt good about, but it was the least messy the situation could be.
Things felt like they’d be smoothed over, just for a little bit.
But then Siobhan came in, phone clutched tightly in her hand. “Gil is going to call for hearings.”
This stirred up quite a murmur in the room. Both Kendall and Frank sat up in their seats with incredulous questions on the tip of their tongues.
“Yeah, Senate Commerce. Probably House, too.” 
Gerri was on her phone in an instant. “Buckle up folks,” she said while scrolling through the news. “We’re going to get an invite to the national latrine. See who’s going to take a public dump.”
“Mr. Fuck is going to Washington,” Shiv sighed.
It was then that Logan let out an ear-splitting bellow of rage. It shocked both you and Roman into flinching. 
“NO! I CAN’T HAVE THIS NOW!” he screamed in distress.
There was a long moment of silence. 
In a leveled tone, you asked Shiv, “Who’s testifying?”
“Uh, well… well, they’d want Dad.”
Kendall quickly protested, “No, we can’t—we won’t let that happen—”
“Protect the egg chamber!” said Roman. Nobody could quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not. 
It was then that Hugo suggested Gerri and Tom to testify. The group went back and forth for a little while longer on what the play would be, but it was quite clear that everybody was already settled with Gerri and Tom going up there. 
To your surprise, Logan called for you and Roman out of the room. 
A part of you wondered if he’d beat Roman over the head with his fancy business shoe for buying the wrong soccer team. You certainly wouldn’t put it past him, especially in his already-agitated state. 
“I need both of your help,” he told the two of you once you were out of the room, lingering by the foot of the pristine staircase. 
“Need someone to run to the store for smokes?” Roman asked, his hands propped on his hips.
“This’ll go on all night… and it might not be okay,” your godfather said.
This made you tilt your head. “Will this really sway the shareholders into folding? It happened under our noses three decades ago, and the perpetrator is dead.”
“The very fact that we’re being called to testify will spook the shareholders. I’m on a knife’s edge.” He grunted softly as he lowered himself to sit on one of the lower steps of the cold staircase. “Ten bad minutes on camera, and that could be it. The end.”
Roman’s brows raised. “The end? Come on, Dad.”
“I need the two of you to chase down the sovereign wealth money,” said Logan.
You and Roman glanced at one another. Was he being serious? 
“Right. Uhm… I mean—that’s… it’s a cool idea, but it’d be a stretch, no?” Roman tentatively brought up. 
Logan leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his elbows, which were resting upon his knees. Though he had made himself physically smaller, he’d always be the biggest presence in the room. “We need that central Asian money. It’s a time out from the responsibilities of being a public company. That’s a fucking lifeline, if I’ve ever seen one.”
“They’d be taking on a massive amount of debt. That’s a… huge responsibility, Uncle Logan.” 
The older man snorted. “Which is why I’m making you go with him. Make sure he doesn’t fuck up. Keep it under wraps. And bring Karl and Laird with you, as well, for the financial matters.” There was a pause as he studied the two of you. “Can you do it?”
Roman scratched anxiously at the back of his head. “Fuck, Dad, I want to say I can. But, I’ll be honest—if it’s, like, really important… I mean, I can say I can do it—like one of those firefighters in the movies. But I don’t know if—”
“You act the fuckleknuckle, but you know… people like you.” 
There it was. A narrow slant of light. It wasn’t real—at least, you didn’t think it was—but it was warmth regardless.
Roman’s features twisted. “It’s a really big fucking deal.”
“Nah. It’s getting the right number from the right suit. Getting your dick in there is easy. Getting into bed—that’s the hard part,” said his father. “You can do it. Both of you can.”
You scuffed your shoe against the floor just as Roman’s nose twitched. 
“Yeah. Sure, dad, I got it.”
Logan pushed himself off the staircase, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. The light was warm, and far too addicting. He smiled softly. 
It wasn’t real, you had to remind yourself. It’s never real. But did that really matter? Did it?
“You’re brilliant, my dear. A real force to reckon with. I trust you to hammer the nail right on its head,” he said. 
You swallowed harshly. “I hope we won’t disappoint, Uncle.”
When he pulled away, he began to make his way towards the doors once more. “Keep me close,” he said. 
And with that, he was gone.
Roman let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 
“Why does it feel like we just dug our own graves? I feel like I’ve got fuckin’ dirt in my eyes,” he lamented just as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You know, if the company ever kills you off, I’ll quit. I don’t know how I’d do it around here without you.”
“All bark, still no bite,” you quietly told him. “You wouldn’t leave the company. Not on your own free will.”
Like a caged dog: it was only able to escape if their owner opened the door for them.
“I’ll kill myself if they kill you. I mean it—I’ll eat a fucking silver bullet.”
“How romantic.”
“Mhm—we’re like fuckin’... Romeo and Juliet.”
He smiled, and so did you.
“C’mon. Let’s go watch the grown-ass men I bought kick around balls for a bit,” said Roman.
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Eduard greeted you at the soccer team’s practice field with a kiss on the cheek, Roman with a firm handshake. 
“It’s good to see you,” you told him with a genuine smile. 
“Good to see you guys, too,” he replied. His expression was well-guarded behind a pair of dark shades. “With everything I’ve heard going down at Waystar, I was surprised you even showed up.”
With a shrug, Roman said, “I have nothing better to do, I promise. I’m gonna cut right to the chase here—do you think there’s any chance you guys have the muscle to take us private? Is that something that’s interesting to you and your dad?”
With nearly no hesitation, Eduard bobbed his head in an affirmative.
Shocked, Karl asked, “Really? That’s…”
Eduard spared the older man half of a grin. “Yes, we’re interested. It’ll look good as part of our portfolio, and we like the news expertise you can share.” Just as Laird began spewing off details to tell Logan, Eduard cut him off by saying, “Actually, Roman, Y/N—can you guys do it? The two of you make quite a team. You and your… bum-boys here can come to Turkey tomorrow? Pitch to me and my Dad?”
You and Roman exchanged earnest glances, as if speaking to each other telepathically. You were sure you could push back your work at Waystar for a few days to settle the privatizing deal. 
“Absolutely. I think we can definitely do that,” said Rome, with a pleased hum. Then, he turned back to fix his gaze on Laird and Karl. “Ain’t that right, bum-boys?”
 “Why Turkey?” you asked, brows raising. “I mean, I can pitch to you anywhere, but why, you know, all the way across the ocean?”
“There’s an investing conference in Bursa. Everyone will be there—we can get into it. Unless you have any objections…?”
Hastily, you shook your head. “No, no. This is great. Thanks for the opportunity.”
“No problem,” said Eduard, watching the ball fly across the field, landing into the goal. “I like you guys. Really.”
The coach called for the team to huddle up, allowing for the owners to say a few words. A part of you wondered if Rome even remembered the name of the FC he had bought.
“Great session, guys. And listen, for Saturday, you have the ability, you have the mentality. Watch that press doesn’t leave you exposed on the turnover, and you fucking got this. Rome?” Eduard turned to your friend, who hadn’t really prepared anything to say.
Roman fixed you with a panicked look, but you nudged him forward with a purse of you lips.
Scratching the back of his head, he awkwardly started, “Uh, yeah, hey guys! Really proud to be associated with all of you. Uh, well, what the fuck can I tell you that you don’t already know? You, uh, you got all this guys, don’t worry about it. ‘Cause you guys are a team, and, uh, when a team… is a team… it can’t actually physically be beaten. It’s impossible. So, go hard, go fast—uh, go you… lovely bastards.” The team glanced at each other and began to awkwardly clap, before Rome looked to you and said, “Anything else you want to add?”
“Me?” you hissed under your breath. “Rome, I’m not an owner—”
“Just say something—!” he whispered back, yanking you forward by the arm.
Stiff, you waved at the litter of sweaty, jerseyed men in front of you. “Hi. Yeah, I’m sure you guys know I’m not one of the team’s owners, but I was there during the business negotiations as Roman’s, uh… co-partner. All I can do now is wish you all the best of luck for your next match—get some rest, eat some good food, keep your eyes on the prize. And if any of you want to get in touch with Waystar Royco for any sort of PR pitches to get your face out there… Coach will have me and Roman’s contact details.” With a smile, you stepped back, shoulder brushing against Roman’s.
“Fuck you,” he muttered bitterly. “Did you rehearse that in your head or something? How’d you manage to perfectly squeeze business into a fucking pep talk?”
You grinned and pinched his cheek lightly. “Go hard and go fast, you lovely bastard,” you mocked, voice rife with fondness, chortling when he swatted your hand away.
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Before you knew it, you and Roman (and the bum-boys) were in Turkey, pitching to Eduard and his team. You had tried practicing a little the night before, but Roman had tossed all the flashcards away out of part-frustration and part-cockiness, assuring you that things would be fine. 
Now, as he was speaking, he seemed pretty confident in his own words. The two of you made a good team, after all.
“Look at the cash flow,” said Roman. “We are undervalued. I think tech just had everybody shitting their pants about legacy media, but really, the wheel turns.”
You nodded with an emphatic smile. “It’s true. No matter how much content moves to streaming sites, people will always want to look for something physical. Something you can feel and experience outside of home—hence Waystar’s adventure parks, and films to experience in theaters.” You made great effort to skirt around the touchy subject of cruises at the moment. 
“Most tech is overvalued. We’re profitable. We’re real money,” Roman added, growing more assured of himself with your support. 
“Tech is always changing. Invest in one thing, and it’ll be outdated in a blink of an eye. Invest in things people will always need: news, broadcasting, life experiences… now that’s reliable.” Eduard flashed you a smile, as if he was already sold.
“This is a tremendous opportunity,” said Rome. “This is once in a lifetime. You get to buy into the US media landscape at the very top. The very top.”
Two of the men leaned forward to whisper indistinctly to one another. 
“It’s a lot of debt,” one of them said once he finally pulled away. “You sure you can pull it together?”
“Absolutely sure,” Roman said with a mild laugh, knowing things with money and debt were quite rocky at the moment, before pointing back at Laird. “Jaime here is the fucking master of leverage. He has structured some of the biggest LBOs in history.”
“Guilty as charged,” said the older man.
Before anyone could say anything else, the doors to the room opened, and a few men filed in, murmuring indistinctly to the security. Your brows pulled together upon seeing guns strapped to their forms.
Roman exchanged a worried look with you.
“Are they, uh… are they with you?” he asked Eduard, who got up off his seat to speak to them in hushed tones.
“Rome, they have guns,” you murmured as you placed a hand on his forearm, glancing back at Karl and Laird. “What’s going on?”
The atmosphere seemed to chill when Eduard turned back to the four of you.
“Hey, look, we’re good. We’re good. But, uh… we’re all gonna go with these gentlemen now, okay?” He raised his hands in an almost placating manner, as if trying to tame a nervous mare. 
 Roman pointed at the armed men. “We’re going with them?” He laughed nervously, wondering if this was one big, elaborate joke. “Uh, no… I don’t think we—uh, who are these guys, exactly?”
Genuine fear began to curdle in your stomach when you watched the security walk out. “Dave just walked out. Hey, Eduard? I just—I need you to be honest with me. Are we in danger right now?”
Eduard worked his jaw in thought. “We’re just going to go with them now. Okay? It’ll be fine.”
“No, uh, I just—Can I just ask what this is in regards to?” Roman stepped in, high-strung. “Is this about the meeting? Is this a business thing?” 
Did I fuck it up and put a loaded gun to my own head? he wanted to say, but bit his tongue before he could.
With a sharp tone, you asked, “Our security guy, Dave, he just walked out with them. Where’d he go? Is he coming back?”
“Dave’s not coming,” said Eduard with pursed lips.
“He’s not coming?” Roman parroted. “Uhm… I would actually really like for Dave to come?”
“Dave is downstairs, we’ll go without him,” Eduard said in a calm tone. “Dave is a security risk. It’s better with these guys, okay?”
“Well, I know Dave, and I sure as hell don’t know these guys so… I think I’d prefer Dave—” you began to say, but was quickly cut off when Eduard put a hand on your shoulder and began leading your tense form out the room, Roman hot on your heels.
“It’s all good. It’s all under control,” Eduard murmured, though you highly doubted it. “There could be a situation, but we’re being looked after.”
A frown crossed Roman’s expression. “Oh, great. We’re being looked after. Fucking great. Laird—can you call Dave?”
They pulled out their phones, but the vested men with guns took the devices away just as quickly as it was pulled out. One stood in front of you with an expectant expression, and you complied with no resistance, handing him your phone, though not without a scowl.
“Great. They took my phone, and now I can’t contact my security, and now we’re going to die,” Roman said. When you looked at him, you could see genuine, restless fear dance over his irises. You didn’t quite know what to say, so you simply squeezed his arm as the two of you walked along.
The armed men led all of you to a crowded hotel lobby, where there seemed to be more hostages, more armed folk in similar attire. 
“Fuck,” Roman mumbled under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t business, is it?”
“Doesn’t look very business-y,” replied Karl.
When someone passed by and their gun brushed against your arm, you flinched back into Roman, your lips pulling back in a snarl. “Eduard. Fuck—Eduard, where the fuck are you taking us?”
“Just relax. This is normal,” he said, shiftily.
Roman scoffed. “Oh, yeah. This feels really fucking normal. Is this—are these guys terrorists? Where’s my fucking security guy? Where’s Dave?”
For a moment, Eduard seemed at a loss for words. You could feel dread pile up in your stomach. “It’s just… it’s an administrative action function,” he reluctantly said.
“Mm, yeah, great, and what exactly is that—?” Roman began to ask, before halting his own question when he trained his gaze on a struggle across the lobby. “Oh, wow, look at that. Guy not being allowed to leave the hotel at gunpoint. That’s—uh, yeah. So what’s… what’s this administrative action function?”
Pursing his lips, Eduard finally fessed up, “There’s just a gathering here now, of us and some other investors, and—”
“Men with guns?” Roman impatiently chirped.
“Yeah, yeah, that, and their guys are some kind of… anti-corruption kind of guys and this is like—it’s like their conference. Or, uh, a party of some sort. And we’re all invited.”
Your eye twitched. “That’s really lovely, but uh, what if I don’t want to go?”
A scream from somewhere over the crowd echoed through the lobby. Glass shattering followed soon after. Karl paled and he anxiously picked at a hangnail.
Eduard sighed. “It’s the kind of party where you have to go. It would be… rude.”
Roman stared at the ground, at nothing in particular. “Well, uh, I guess I wouldn’t mind being just a tiny bit rude.”
It was becoming more and more clear that no amount of protests or questions would get you out of this situation—not with every exit manned by armed personnel. The hostages in the hotel were soon herded into a large hall, empty save for bare white chairs for people to sit on. Eduard was led into a different room, and you briefly wondered if that’d be the last time you ever saw him.
You blew out a breath as you took a seat. Roman was quick to snare Laird into playing a multitude of games, like rock, paper, scissors, eye spy, and fuck, marry, kill. You didn’t pay much attention to them, instead trying to figure out what you’d do with yourself once you got out of this situation. One thing was for sure: your therapist was going to have a field day hearing this. 
“Where do you think they’re taking them?” you asked the men beside you when they began grabbing hostages and shoving them out the doors. 
“Doesn’t look like they’re gonna be taking a tour of the spa,” said Laird.
“My advice,” Karl huffed, looking awfully sweaty, “just don’t look at anything. If you don’t look, you’re not a witness.”
You buried your face in your hands. “Wonderful. Brilliant advice, Karl. At least you didn’t tell me to just take it if they decided to shove their dicks into my mouth.”
“Woah!” exclaimed Roman, eyes widening. “That’s not going to happen. Right? That can’t happen.”
You spared him a shrug, slumping back against the chair. Though, you were quick to sit up straight again when Eduard emerged from the doors, making a bee-line for you and Roman.
“Hey, guys. It’s all good. Things are good. So, uh, my president’s daughter’s husband has asked him to take closer control of some key assets. It’s anti-corruption, but it’s a bit of a power-grab. Some Turkish acquiescence, but it’s all in play.”
If you had to be honest, you understood very little of what he was saying. Whether it was because of your panic-hazed mind, or because he was merely being ambiguous, you couldn’t quite tell.
“Not to, uh, make this all about us…” began Roman, tentative, “but are they going to shoot us at any point?”
“No one is getting shot,” assured the bearded man. “Look, it’s complicated, but with the Zeynal here—there’s some interest about the deal.”
Deal? 
Both you and Roman glanced at each other. 
“Uh, fuck. Okay. The deal, sure,” said Rome.
“One thing they wanted clarity on was—how could they be sure the deal wouldn’t be blocked by your government?” Eduard asked.
You stuck your tongue against your cheek when Roman shook his head, “Well, it wouldn’t. My father has a lot of sway. I mean, he can’t lock up his opponents in a hotel, but, well, he kinda could.”
“And you’re the target of another bid? Won’t that be a problem?”
Sandy and Stewy. “Not a problem,” you quickly said. “They’re all bark, very little bite. If the price is right, we can easily reach a settlement before the shareholder meeting.”
With a nod, Eduard patted your knee, and he got up to leave—talk to his associates once more. 
“That went well,” said Laird, mildly surprised. 
“Yeah… a little too well,” Roman mused.
Hours later, Eduard returned, calling for the four of you to follow him.
It was a pitch. A messy pitch—one you clearly weren’t in the right mindspace for. One where the audience had clear smudges of coke lining their nostrils, dusting their tables. One that had a lot of money thrown into the empty promises, accompanied by high smiles and wandering eyes. It made you feel sick, and Roman clearly wasn’t a fan of it, either. Laird seemed to be satisfied with the mutual agreements, though. He heard money, and he immediately thought he was safe.
But the agreements didn’t feel quite real. None of it felt real. It was all bullshit, you wanted to yell at their face. Being held at gunpoint to play business in front of the coked out billionaires was not your preferred method of saving the company, especially when none of the settlements felt cemented. This wasn’t safe money to bet the entire company on—it might’ve not been money at all, in fact.
By the end of everything, the ambassador had arranged for a plane to finally get you out of the country. You fell asleep as soon as you sat down in your seat, the long hours going without sleep finally catching up to you. Roman curled up in the seat beside you, his head on your shoulder. He stayed awake the entire flight, listening to your steady breaths.
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The Mediterranean. The Roys were on a fancy yacht in the Mediterranean.
It would’ve sounded like a pleasant getaway, if you weren’t dead-tired, having just returned from being held hostage at gunpoint. You just wanted to go home. Logan, however, wanted you and Rome by his side—and who were you to say no to the top dog?
As the speedboat skidded to a stop by the yacht, cheers erupted from siblings, along with Gerri and Frank, Greg and Tom. Roman slid his sunglasses on as he clambered onto the larger boat’s deck. 
“Here they are! The heroes of Asia!” exclaimed Shiv, a flute of champagne in hand. She was the first to greet you, taking your hand and helping you out of the speedboat. After a kiss to your cheek, you spared her an exhausted smile.
“The lions of Turkey! Welcome back, guys!” chimed Greg. He leaned down to embrace his cousin, but Roman was quick to push his face away. Greg didn’t dare try to hug you after that, merely waving from afar.
Frank clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Back like Odysseus. Did you guys ride out on sheep?”
Snorting, Shiv added, “Yeah, I heard you took down an entire army alone, bro.”
“That would’ve been really traumatizing if you weren’t already so fucked up,” Gerri told Roman, who simply frowned.
“Yeah, who’d you suck off to get out?” Kendall inserted.
Tom smiled widely from behind Shiv. “You were staying at Four Seasons, right? How did you guys escape? Did you—did you build a glider out of a caesar salad?”
Roman squinted at nothing in particular from behind the dark lens of his sunglasses. “Uh, you know what? It was actually fucking scary and we thought they might kill us, but yeah…” The tips of his fingers wiggled in a poor rendition of jazz hands. “Hardee-har-har, caesar salads, har-har. So funny.”
An awkward silence ensued between the small group. You scritched at your neck with a wince, wanting nothing more than a shower and a nap.
“Sorry, dude. Seriously,” said Kendall.
Roman snorted. “Yeah, no. They just raped me a little, but I’m no hero. They stuck their cocks down Y/N’s throat, too. Tell them.”
He nudged you and you shook your head tiredly. “They didn’t do that.”
“See? It got so bad that she trauma-blocked the memories. Shame on all of you,” he said, propping his fists on his hips. 
Feeling mildly guilty, Shiv had the gall to rub her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Sorry, Rome.”
“It’s fine. I’m just tired, or whatever. It was funny, actually. Karl almost shat in a bucket and I have it on my phone, so we can fully humiliate him in our daily jerkfest later,” said Rome, tugging you to sit down with him on a large white seat.
“So how’d it all go, business-wise?” Connor asked, eyeing the both of you curiously. “Or was that forgotten?”
Before either of you could say anything, Laird stepped in, shaking his head with a wide smile. “Oh, we can’t say anything about that. Confidential stuff. But they—they did good.”
“Oh! Okay. Promising!” Connor exclaimed, shooting the both of you a grin. “Congrats, you guys.”
Unease crackled between the two of you. When you locked gazes with Roman, he merely lifted one of his shoulders in a shrug, lips pursed. The deal probably wouldn’t go through. It was all empty promises, powdered with a layer of cocaine. 
The two of you failed. And maybe that was okay.
Your hand found his, and his head knocked against yours. He drank the beer Shiv handed him, and you drank in the salty air of the sea.
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After you’d finally managed to pry yourself away from Roman (or, more accurately, Roman away from you), you had yourself a nice, hot shower, and a long-overdue nap. When you drowsily blinked back into consciousness, it was early afternoon, the sun still high up in the cloudless sky. A part of you wondered how you hadn’t just slept through the entire day.
You cleaned yourself up and changed into loose loungewear, heading down a story of the yacht, where you caught sight of the Roy siblings hanging by the pool (minus Connor, who was discussing matters of the play).
Roman waved at you limply. “Hey, sleeping beauty. You were knocked out for a while. I poked you in all your ticklish spots and you didn’t even stir.”
With a sigh, you curled yourself up into the cushioned spot beside him, Shiv on your other side. On her right was Tom, who had his gaze trained on Greg on the other side of the pool—the Roy’s cousin was… getting his toes looked at by the medic? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t quite want to know.
“You know, if you snuck into my room while I’m asleep and prodded me like a corpse, at least don’t fess up to it. You weirdo,” you said once you finally tore your gaze away from Greg, wrinkling your nose at Rome fondly.
“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” Roman whistled, to which Shiv let out a loud groan of complaint. 
Sloshing water from the pool drew your attention to Kendall. “You good, Y/N? Sorry about—if I was, like, insensitive earlier—”
“It’s fine,” you quickly replied. “They were never going to shoot us, anyway. It was all just… theatrics.”
Theatrics. Puppets and strings.
Kendall smiled loosely. 
“So, uh, how was DC?” you asked the older man as he leaned against the rim of the pool. “They had it on the TV for a bit when we were waiting to give our pitch.”
He nodded, water dripping from his hair. “Yeah, it was—it was pretty fucking real.”
“You did good,” Roman chirped, adjusting the sunglasses on his nose. 
Scoffing, Kendall shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. And what? I did good for—for a crackhead? For a moron on crack?” His voice was lilting with incredulity.
“Nope. You did good, Ken,” he said.
Shiv nodded. “Yeah. You killed it.”
Kendall wasn’t used to genuine praise from his siblings. It was usually edged with an insult, laced with sarcasm or ire. 
“It was Tom that, uh… that didn’t really persuade everyone quite as well,” you said, sending an apologetic grimace to Shiv’s fiance.
“You’re being too nice. He shat his pants and puked all over the floor,” Roman huffed with an amused smile. 
Tom pulled a cross face. “I didn’t—!” He drew in a sharp breath. “You know, a lot of people are saying I was deadcatting. Yeah. So like—dead cat on the table. Everyone’s looking at this dead cat, and not… not talking about your dad.”
Shiv pursed her lips. “Right. Sure, yeah, you drew the fire. Yeah.”
Both you and Roman exchanged humored looks. 
“So, what’s going on with Rhea? She’s out, right?” Roman asked a beat later.
“Mhm. Melted. But she’s agreed not to say anything publicly until after the shareholder meeting,” said Shiv.
You briefly wondered why she backed away, but chalked it up to immense financial risk and potential ethical demise of her career. Good for her. 
“Instead of Rhea, whose big hairy foot is going to slip into the glass slipper?” Roman queried. “Washington Ken here?”
His older brother clambered out of the pool, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. “Me? Uh, no. Nope. I mean—Rome, you brought the golden goose home.”
The two of you frowned at the same time. Roman let out a loud sigh.
“Could be anyone,” you said. “We’re right back to square one.”
“Yeah. Could be. I mean, why is Greg here?” Kendall shot a look over his shoulder to glance at his cousin, peering between his own toes.
Roman snorted. “I always ask that question.” Then, he patted your thigh and leaned against you, enjoying the warmth of your skin against his. “I did think—you know, when I thought they were going to vacuum out my innards and fill me with concrete or something—like… if we come through this, is there a thing where we, like, talk to each other about stuff? Normally?”
In a strange alien-baby voice, Shiv mocked, “You wanna twalk to each other nwormally?”
Kendall snickered and tacked on, “You wanna twalk abwout the big shit?”
“Yeah, let’s twalk abwout the big shit!”
“We can talk about—our feewings!”
The siblings joking around for a rare moment reminded you of when you were all younger, with missing teeth and scraped knees. When Shiv’s hair would still be done up in a ponytail and yours would be twisted into pigtails. Simpler times—when things weren’t all that simple but you, in your blissful ignorance, had thought they were. 
Though you really didn’t want to laugh, you tried your best to smother down a chuckle, making Roman send you a betrayed glare. 
“Wow. Really? You, too?” He lightly shoved you away, and you and Shiv burst into a fit of giggles when you knocked into her. “How am I the most mature one here?”
“Sowwy, Wome,” you crooned in the same alien-baby voice. He kicked at your foot, then hooked his leg over yours.
The laughter dulled away when the whirring of helicopter blades descended over the yacht.
Logan was here.
“Emotional gunship incoming,” said Kendall.
“Yeah. Send out the distress signal,” Shiv added, the smile on her lips fading away as she looked up to see her father fly down. “We’re under attack.”
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Logan was smiling. It wasn’t often that he smiled. 
He greeted you with a chaste kiss to the cheek, and Roman with a pat to the shoulder. It was warm in the light—brief, but warm nonetheless.
When he hoarded the two of you, along with bum-boys Laird and Karl into a separate room, he immediately asked, “Are you two alright? I heard it got a bit tasty.”
Tasty wasn’t exactly the right word for it, you thought. 
“Mmh, we’re fine. I’ve had worse experiences at hotels before,” Roman languidly commented, shrugging it off. 
Logan tilted his head. “Did they look after you? I spoke to the White House.”
“Someone came and told us there was a warship,” you said, pursing your lips. “Felt a bit extreme.”
“Knowing us gun-handy Americans, I bet it was already there,” Roman snorted, pouring himself a drink. “The ambassador took us for a shitty lunch—you know, sorry that you were held at gunpoint, have a cheese sandwich.”
Logan gestured for all of you to take a seat. “So… on the money. What’s the situation?”
“The kids did great,” said Laird, which made Roman audibly gag. “I think, Mr. Roy, you’ll be able to go private. Eduard and his father have titular responsibility for the sovereign wealth but the president’s daughter’s husband, Zeynal, is the key guy now. The two of ‘em killed it with him.”
Shrugging, Roman said, “Well, it was clear Eduard was getting sidelined. Zeynal figured out who we were, and I thought we were gonna be taken to get a fucking chainsaw massage but… nope. We had an hour, we pitched hard, and they said they wanted in.”
“Too modest,” Laird emphasized, brows raising. “This is the perfect opportunity.”
It wasn’t. It never was.
Karl went on to talk about the numbers, and Logan seemed quite pleased. 
“That’s great. That’s fucking fantastic!” announced Roman’s father.
Rome bit down on the inside of his cheek. He winced, and scratched at his head.
“I just… I do have to say one thing, dad…”
Panic flashed across Laird’s eyes. “Roman, we’re good.”
Ignoring him, Roman said, “I mean, we had a good talk with Zeynal and he said, with his mouth, that he wanted in and that’s great and all… but if this is really serious for us, I think I actually do have to say that it feels like it’s… probably horseshit.”
A beat of silence.
Laird’s eyes twitched.
Clearing your throat, you said, “Yeah, I just wanna make it clear that they said they wanted in, but didn’t sign anything yet. I mean, it’s not like we had any documents on hand but… words mean nothing. Uncle Logan, I don’t know if it’s… really smart to bank the entire future of the company on words of drug-addled men taking a piss out of you.”
Logan’s brows raised.
“It was flaky,” Roman added. “There was a lot of shit going on.”
The head man glanced at Karl, who remained deathly quiet, and then back to you. 
“Roman, they want to rebalance their portfolio for, uh, for a variety of geopolitical reasons,” began Laird. “It’s very European-focused, and he wants to tilt Western Hemisphere. It’s all very logical! I know that it’s a lot of money, and that can be very scary, but it makes sense.”
“All due respect, Laird, but I really don’t think they give a shit about adding us to their portfolio,” you said, voice hesitant. “They know we’re in debt. They know we’re in hot water with a large sector of the company. Why would they want in at all, much less hand over a ten billion dollar investment like it’s nothing?”
Roman sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry that we’re worrying our pretty little heads, Laird, but if they’re rebalancing their portfolio, it’d be fucking insane to do it over one ten-bil mega deal like it’s nothing.”
“Yeah, it’d be more sensible that they invest into several different markets around the globe,” you agreed. “None of this feels right.”
“It doesn’t matter what it feels like,” stressed Laird. “They said yes!”
With a frown, Roman retorted back, “Maybe, sure, they said yes! And there’s a ten or twenty percent chance that you’d make, like, a hundred million bucks with this deal. That’s so exciting! But if we miss, we could be fucked.”
Logan’s expression was hard to read. Anger? Disbelief? Disappointment? Acceptance? You couldn’t quite tell.
Swallowing hard, you said, “If we go through with this and none of it turns out to be real, we’d go straight over the edge. No votes, no political gain, no money.”
Finally, Logan murmured, “If it falls halfway through, it’d be terminal.”
A vein popped out on Laird’s head. “But if it works… just one step forward, and you’d be free.”
You couldn’t help but scoff. “Free from what? Just because we go private doesn’t mean we can do fuck all.”
Before Laird could argue back, Logan fixed his stare onto Roman. “Son?” he asked.
“Dad, I have to say, I’ve done a little bullshitting in my time—and Zenyal was a cokey, lying, 3 AM scotch and see-you-in-the-morning man. He won’t follow through.”
With a frustrated groan, Laird angrily got up from his seat.
Roman shook his head. “Dad, I wish it was real. I really fucking do. But it’s not—and we have to step away.”
When Logan turned his stare onto you, you nodded in agreement with Roman. 
“Karl?” your godfather asked.
The man buckled under the scrutiny. “You can’t lean on this,” he said. “Not now.”
His mind finally made, Logan got up onto his feet. “I’m sorry, Jaime. Keep exploring, keep talking. I cannot pile my chips on something that isn’t solid.”
“Excellent,” sighed Jaime. He looked at you, then at Roman. “You wanna talk solid? Maybe take a look at your kid there. Does he sound solid to you? And—thanks for the support, Karl. I hope you enjoy the king’s favors, because you know what you’re looking at if you don’t go private. Someone has to pay the price. Someone is going to go to jail, and I won’t be around to see it.”
With that, he dramatically took his leave. Roman tilted his head back and rolled his eyes.
“I wanna do the best thing. The most decent thing,” said Logan. His hand was on your shoulder for a moment, before he pulled away. “Tomorrow we’ll get into a discussion about our missteps and how we can indicate how sorry we are to the rest of the world. Get some rest, the both of you.”
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As you clambered into bed, Roman unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it somewhere behind him. He’d followed you into the cabin, claiming that there were no available cabins left—and you knew he was lying, because you’d passed by several empty rooms on the way to yours, but you didn’t bother to protest.
“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.”
“Ugh, shut up.”
“You know, I overheard Tom and Shiv speaking to each other,” you said as you fluffed up a pillow to lay on. 
“Ooh. Is Tom the one getting shitcanned? No surprise there,” Roman replied, crawling next to you and laid down on his stomach, head resting on his crossed arms. 
“No. I mean, I don’t actually know who it’ll be, but—” You paused to smile, near-childish laughter falling from your lips. “I heard Tom saying he was excited for a threesome.”
“Ew! What? Ew! Tell me more,” Roman exclaimed, swatting at your arms and you shoved him back, laughing at his tone. “Oh, that’s so gross. Never pegged Tom as the type.”
“I don’t think it was Tom’s idea.”
“Ew!”
The two of you giggled about it some more, before you lolled your head over to face him. 
“Do you think it could be me?” you quietly asked. “Would Logan throw me to the sharks?”
Roman hummed. “Sometimes it feels like he likes you better than any of his own fucking kids. You’re not getting canned. It won’t make sense.”
“Hm.”
He threw an arm over your stomach. “But… it won’t be me, right?”
“I don’t know, Rome,” you told him honestly. “After today… I just don’t know. But I’ve got your back.”
The two of you basked in the comfort of each other’s quiet for a brief moment. You scooched closer to him and shut your eyes.
“You’re a really good friend, Rome.”
Something akin to an amused snort fell from his lips. “Pfft. Friend. I don’t think friends jerk off to the sound of each other’s voices. You’ve had your hand on my dick. Is that what friends do these days?”
“Friends with benefits, then.”
He brushed his lips along your shoulder, light as a feather, barely there. There was a strange ache in his chest. An ache that you also felt. The two of you ached together, unknowingly. 
“Hm. I like the sound of that. It’s like you’re my personal whore.”
“It’s a two-way street.”
“Yeah. You fuck me, I fuck you. You kill me, I kill you. Like they do in Germany.”
There it was again. What was with Roman and Germany?
“Sure. Like they do in Germany.”
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It was hard to stomach breakfast with your restless nerves shooting adrenaline through your veins. You anxiously plowed through two apples and started on your third just when Logan stepped onto the lower level. Everybody’s attention piqued, their heads turning, postures stiffening up against the chairs around the dining table. 
When Gerri tentatively asked him who he had in mind as the sacrificial lamb, Logan waved her away.
“Enough. We stick together, alright? Most things don’t exist. The Ford motor company hardly exists—it’s just a time-saving expression for a collection of financial interests. But this exists, because…”
Roman leaned in close to mockingly whisper, “Family.”
“Family,” Logan finished. “We are a family. And so that’s why I think… I think the obvious choice is me.”
A ripple of shock coursed through the small group. Your eyes narrowed, unsure of what game Logan was playing at now.
“No,” Shiv vehemently said. “What? Dad, you—you can’t.”
Logan tilted his head. It wasn’t often he was told that he couldn’t. “Well, I may not be responsible, but the buck has to stop somewhere.”
The rest of the group erupted in protests. Tom, Kendall, Frank. They were all bleating sheep. Roman rolled his eyes.
“It doesn’t work,” Kendall elaborated. “When people find out Rhea isn’t coming in, we’d need stability. From you.”
Logan raised a single finger. “I need one meaningful skull to wave.” Wave didn’t seem quite the appropriate term. Chop off, maybe. Sever was a good one. “If the shareholders’ meeting was tomorrow, we lose. I need to persuade a number of big figures. So… would anyone like to say anything?”
Crackling silence. Across the table, Greg popped a fat green grape into his mouth.
“I’ll take care of whoever it is,” said Logan. “No one will be forgotten.”
Clearing his throat, Kendall ventured out, “Well, I mean, if we’re doing this, I don’t wanna spread shit around. We’re all loyal servants here. But, uh, I say this without malice aforethought, presumably, uhm, general counsel is the center of the web. Sorry, Gerri. I like you, I do.”
Logan reached out to put his hand over the blonde woman’s. “There is no one more loyal than Gerri,” he said, effectively dismissing the idea.
But you saw right through him. It wasn’t about Gerri’s loyalty. She wasn’t a big enough cut. 
“What about Frank?” Roman offered. Everyone was well aware of his disdain for the older man. “How come Frank is even here today?”
Full of ire, Logan’s old friend nodded his head. “Thanks, Roman. I see it. I could take it. I mean, I make sense.”
“Yeah. And after what he did to you? The whole boardroom coup?” Roman lifted a shoulder, convinced that Frank was the most obvious choice.
“Water under the bridge.” Logan brushed away once more. Still not big enough.
After a long while of stammering, Frank finally coughed out, “I would say objectively, considering my, uh, my indiscretion against the family makes me a less compelling sacrifice. Unlike—uhm, for instance, a loyal servant like Karl.”
Instead of defending himself, Karl decided to turn the blade right back around to Gerri. “My thing is, I guess, if Rhea is no more, then sadly, we’re back to having Gerri as named successor. So that fattens her up for the kill, in my opinion.”
“Everyone knows I was just a name on a piece of paper,” defended the woman, laughing incredulously.
“Oh, don’t put yourself down. I think you were always more than that,” scoffed Karl. “And, you know, the old copy book is a bit blotty. Expense accounts… daughter’s first class on the company coin…”
“Karl sounds good!” Tom chimed in. “Sausage thief,” he bitterly muttered, in reference to the entire Boar on the Floor debacle in Hungary.
“Gerri is theoretically kind of perfect,” said Connor.
“No,” Roman was quick to protest. “Nope. That’s bullshit. I disagree.”
Propping his joined hands on the table, Logan asked, “Why?”
“Why? Because that’s my opinion,” Roman said in a defensive manner.
“Yeah… but your reasoning?”
With a hasty glance to you, Roman hastily spun out, “Seriously, Gerri? To pay for cruises? We, what, we take out our senior woman? Haven’t we, you know—kidding, here, but—killed enough women already?”
“It’d look orchestrated. Gerri is just too obvious,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Sexual misconduct cases three decades ago, and we’d be placing the blame on general counsel and simply wiping our hands clean? Not to mention it’d just make Waystar look more… anti-women if we went down that route.”
Roman nodded. “Listen, I think the obvious choice here is, and I hate to say it because he’s such a swell guy, but—” he made a whistling noise and pointed to the man sitting across from him, “Tom.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, you're the head of cruises, man.”
Kendall pursed his lips. “I gotta agree with Rome here. Tom, I fucking love you dude, but you shat the bed over Mo Lester.”
“But I was sent in there as the fucking beating man—I took the fucking beating!” 
Shiv shook the back of her head, making no effort to defend her husband.
“You got suckered in by Eavis,” said Kendall.
“I answered the questions!”
“You don’t answer the questions. Okay? That’s, like, rule one.” Kendall patted his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I’m not beating up on you here, I’m just saying that he got a win off you and you’re kinda the face of this now.”
Lifting her head up high, Shiv said, “Tom looks logical. Cruises, document destruction. It’d be laid out for us.”
Tom’s gaze swiveled to his wife, expression utterly torn. “What?” he croaked out.
“I’m not saying you should be,” the red-head defended. “But I’m just saying you’re like family, but you’re not… actually family, which is also good. Tom, it’s the elephant in the room. We can say that!”
“No, we can’t! There’s absolutely no need to speak of the elephant in the room! There’s fifteen other fucking elephants in this room!” With an angry scoff, Tom threw both his hands up. “If you want someone who’s family but not family, what about Y/N?”
Immediately, Roman let out a high-pitched, “No! Why would it—why the fuck should it be her?”
Tom’s face contorted under the scrutiny. “I don’t know. General manager of Waystar, and goddaughter to Logan sounds like a good fucking steak to throw to the lions.” At your confused expression, Tom quickly backed down. “I’m not actually saying Y/N. I’m just saying things! It just—it shouldn’t be me. What about you, huh, Shiv?”
“Okay, fine. How do I work?” she hissed out. 
“I don’t know!” Tom exclaimed, his voice raising a few notches in volume.
Gerri pursed her lips to the side and mentioned, “I mean, if we’re saying Shiv, we could highlight witness tampering and, uh, that she was going to take over but—I don’t know, it probably wouldn’t work.”
Shiv reared back as if she’d been stung. “Uh, yeah. Too fucking right it wouldn’t work. I don’t make sense, I’ve never been inside.”
“What about both of them? Shiv and Tom? Beauty and the beast,” Roman said.
“Does Tom work?” Logan asked. “Alone?”
A long beat of silence. 
In all honesty, you thought he’d work. The missing documents were more than enough to go off of. 
But Kendall shook his head, and it flew right out the window. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s a big enough skull. No offense.”
“Then how about Tom with some fucking… Greg sprinkles?” Roman asked, gesturing to his cousin, who’d managed to polish off all the grapes on the tray. One of the workers floated by to take the tray away, no doubt to fill it back up again.
“Greg sprinkles?” parroted Greg.
Wincing, you apologetically added, “I mean, you did destroy those documents for Tom, no? It’s—it's an aided crime. It works.”
Connor laughed. “Elmo and Big Bird. I could start to see that, yeah. You could throw in a Karl or a Frank, and you’re golden.”
“What—what precisely are Greg sprinkles?” asked the Roy cousin.
“Greg sprinkles are basically a fantastic garnish for practically anyone seated at this table,” Roman replied with a faux warm smile. “Like a Tom sundae with a little Greg cherry on top.” He popped his lips and Greg frowned.
“No, I object. I do. I mean—I’m more than a sprinkle! What about you, huh? What about Roman?”
“Roman?” you asked, cocking a brow. “How would he be a good candidate?”
“Well, he’s widely known as a terrible person!”
Roman snorted. “Thanks, Toe Jam.”
“There’s another elephant in the room,” Connor interrupted. “What about I just throw myself over the side, huh?”
Shiv laughed quietly, hiding her smile behind her palm.
“Yeah, just—in return for a payout. I’m cash strapped, so just lock me into that sweet, sweet golden parachute and toss me in the volcano!” said the oldest Roy sibling. On he blathered, about how he should be the one to take the fall.
Logan glanced around. “That’s… that’s kind of you, Con. Thank you. We’ll bear it in mind.” He smiled, but it wasn’t quite authentic. It wasn’t real. Connor slumped back, going largely ignored once again.
With that, Logan stood up. “We have half an idea but… yeah. Let’s do this later.”
Off he went, through the glass doors, gone to God knows where.
You and Roman exchanged a look. His was one of relief and gratitude, yours was one of exasperation. Then, Roman leaned forward to snatch the tray of grapes away from Greg, and offered a branch of the plump green fruits to you. 
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Dinner left a stale taste in your mouth. Maybe it was because you weren’t particularly fond of the served courses. Maybe it was because of the rocking motions of the boat upsetting your stomach. Or maybe—maybe it was because Logan had finally chosen his sacrificial lamb.
Kendall stood beside his father with pursed lips. Logan nodded to the sitting group. “I’ve decided,” he simply said.
Incredulity danced across Roman’s expression, brows raised. “Ken?” he asked. “Come on, really? Dad, you—no. There’s… what about the… one of the other shitfuckers?”
Your eyes darted from your godfather, to Kendall, who took a seat across from you. He met your eyes, if only for a brief moment. A part of you felt bad for him—after all, to you he was always going to be the eight-year-old boy draped in a suit far too large for him, practicing a speech in front of the mirror for a nameless award he was going to accept one day. He’d make you and Roman sit down and listen to him, four and five years of age, expectantly turning to the two of you after he was done and asking if it sounded okay. Desperate for approval, even if the assurance came from two young kids with missing teeth and bored eyes.
He was practically your brother. You averted your gaze with mild shame burning within your chest.
“Hey, it’s okay,” said Kendall. He looked around the table. “You’re all off the hook.”
Roman leaned forward and asked, uncharacteristically genuine, “You okay?”
Wordless, Kendall nodded. He was trying his best to stave away the frown tugging at the corners of his lips. There were tears warbling over his irises. 
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good.” 
But he wasn’t. Roman knew, and you knew, too.
Karl cleared his throat. “Is it just… I don’t wanna be rude here—is it just him?”
Gerri tilted her head. “First—uh, second-born son—with his responsibilities, it wouldn’t be a hard sell.”
“Roman,” said Logan. “You’re taking over as full chief operating officer.”
An indignant noise fell from his throat. “Yeah? What with Captain Cautious back in the other room?” 
“No, no. Frank’s going to be responsible for the cruises clean up. You’re on your own. Solo.” Logan stared at his youngest son. “Can you handle it?”
Beneath the table, Roman’s jostling knee bumped into yours. “Yeah,” he unenthusiastically said. “That’s really exciting.”
Kendall spared his little brother a lopsided smile. “No, Rome. It’s great. For real.” Then, he raised a fork. “Eat up, guys. This one’s on me.”
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Day three on the boat. You woke up to Roman’s arms wrapped around your midriff, his face buried in the fabric over your chest. He sleepily mumbled and whined when you dragged yourself (and, effectively, him as well, seeing as he refused to let go of you) out of bed. The two of you brushed your teeth together before you promptly kicked him out of your room so you could take a quick shower in peace.
By the time the both of you got down to have breakfast, Greg was the one to tell you that Kendall had left earlier in the morning. 
“Right to his slaughter,” you mumbled to Rome, who’s face twisted with guilt.
An hour later, you were watching Kendall on the television. Shiv and Logan were on the couches, and Roman had both his hands resting on your shoulders, kneading your muscles as if you were a stress ball.
“I have been asked to explain my role in the management of illegality at the firm and associated cover ups. And it has been suggested that I would be a suitable figure to absorb the anger and concern,” said screen Kendall. To your surprise, his words were followed by, “But…”
You and Roman exchanged glances. He stopped working at your shoulders and crossed his arms. 
“The truth is that my father is a malignant presence. He is a liar, a bully, and was fully aware of the events that had transpired on the cruise ships for many years, and made efforts to hide and cover up. He had a twisted sense of loyalty to bad actors like Lester McClintock, and a disregard for the safety of migrant workers, union and non-union workers, along with vulnerable performers and guests.”
“Fuck me,” Roman whispered. Logan silently lifted a finger to his lips to shush him.
The Kendall on screen was vastly different to the puppet Kendall you’d come to know for the past few months. He’d finally broken free of his strings.
“My father keeps a watchful eye over his entire empire, and the notion that he would have allowed millions of dollars of settlements and compensation to be paid without his explicit approval is utterly fanciful. I have with me today copies of records that show his personal sign-off. How much those of us who executed his wishes bear responsibility is for another day.” 
Shiv briefly twisted around to shoot you an utterly dumbfounded look, as if to ask you if you’d known he was going to do this. You sent her an equally befuddled expression.
“But I think…” said Kendall, “This is the day his reign ends.”
With that, Kendall got up and walked off to the side, out of the camera’s view. You couldn’t see it, for Logan was facing the screen, but there was a slight smile on your godfather’s face.
684 notes · View notes
gay-wh0re-slut · 11 months
Note
Thank you so much for doing my angst request! It was so good!Can I request a new one? I’m in a mood for angst lately, but with smutty ending lol
Reader and Rhea have broke up a while ago, but Rhea is taking it harder than she thought she would. She hears that reader is going on dates (which is actually just to kill time and as an effort to move on, but Rhea doesn’t know that). She feels angry and jealous that she’s replaced so fast and confronts reader about it. During the argument things are getting heated and “somehow” they resolve the misunderstanding horizontally 😅
i’m so glad you liked it! I’m hoping it was the one with the prompt bc that one was fun to write. thank you for making another request!
after writing: it’s a bit more sad than angry bc i lowkey went thru this a while ago lmaooo so sorry bout that but i hope you like it hahahahahaoops and they’re not really horizontal but it’s still hot lmaoo
Over
rhea x fem reader
content: angst-ish with sad rhea, smutttttt, oral sexxxx, fingeringggg, hot buff goth woman kissing youuu ooooooo
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It’s been two months since you and Rhea have broken up. The first month was hard on you but the second month you wanted to get your mind off of it so you decided to download all the dating apps you could think of. You’ve been on a few first dates and a few second dates but none have lived up to your expectations.
It has been really hard on the wrestler though. She claimed that she did it because she was getting so busy that she felt it wasn’t fair to you that she wasn’t able to be around as much as she wanted. So she decided to end things, unfortunately for her, she didn’t realize how much she relied on you to get away from all the buzz.
You haven’t spoken or texted Rhea for three weeks and it was hurting you, but she was the one to end things so why should I try? you thought. You and her had mutual friends that you would hang out with sometimes and they would try to tell you updates on her but you didn’t want to hear them.
“She really misses you,” they would say.
“Then she shouldn’t have left me,” said the anger stage of grief.
Part of you knew that the friends were telling her that you were going on dates and how you were doing but you didn’t care. You wanted to seem like the ‘bigger person’ and make it seem like you moved on.
One night, you had been chatting with a girl on one of the many dating apps and things were going suspiciously well so you set up a date for the next day, just to see. It was at a local coffee shop because you wanted it to be in public in case something went wrong.
You wore a long maroon, but sort of tight dress that showed off your curves just right, some light makeup, and your hair natural; you didn’t want to try too hard. The time came and you headed to the shop, ordered coffee and sat down at a small table in the corner.
People came and went and you were there for about twenty minutes, checking your phone and scrolling through social media. Because you were waiting for quite a while, you didn’t want to come off as someone who got stood up, so you decided to text her.
“You still coming?”
“Sorry, something came up, maybe another day?”
Of course. This wasn’t the first time this happened and it sure wouldn’t be the last.
“All good,” was the only thing you said. You didn’t like putting effort into something that wasn’t going to go anywhere. If they wasted your time, then they don’t care about you, your friend would say, but something seemed off.
You brushed it off, drank your coffee and enjoyed your time alone, it was nice. You rarely went out by yourself, so it was good for a change.
You finally finished your latte, so you head back home. To your surprise, there was a familiar black truck in your driveway.
“No fucking way,” you growl as you park the car. You sit for a few minutes contemplating going somewhere else in town, maybe a movie or something long enough to where she would leave on her own, but you decided against it. “If she wants to talk then let’s talk.”
You slammed the car door and stomped inside to her helping herself to a glass of water.
“Sorry to show up out of the blue,” the australian admitted.
“No you’re not,” you threw your keys down on the counter.
“Excuse me?”
“Obviously you have something to say that you couldn’t call or text about so…” you crossed your arms keeping your distance.
She was silent but you could tell she was trying not to go off.
“So?” you push.
“You’ve been going on dates,” she finally said.
“Yeah and? Why does it matter? You broke up with me,” the lump in your throat began to form, you were never good with confrontation but you swallowed it down.
“It’s only been two months!” she barked as she threw her hands up.
“People grieve differently!”
“You’re not grieving, you’re trying to get back at me.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to move on,” you glare.
“Moving on means seeing other people after two months?” She walked to the kitchen table and leaned on the back of one of the chairs, gripping it tightly.
“Yes, it does because I’m tired of throwing myself a pity party every night.”
“As if I haven’t done that?” she gestured to herself.
“You broke up with me,” you reiterate.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you!” She walked to the bar area of the kitchen counter.
You let the words hang in the air, you genuinely didn’t have a response to that.
“It’s like you didn’t even care to reach out,” she sighed under her breath.
“The phone works both ways,” you rebutted.
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to!”
“Of course I did! I wanted to remain friends,” her cheeks were flush.
You try to calm your breathing and think hard about what you’re going to say because you didn’t want to get her feelings anymore than you did, apparently. “It’s hard to remain friends with someone you had fallen in love with and been with for a year.”
“As if I don’t know that?!” She crossed her arm and held her forehead with the other, “I had hope that we could work our way back.”
“Well…”
She took a long deep breath, before looking back up at you, “so you don’t want to try?”
“Literally when did I say that?”
“You didn’t have to say anything! I can tell with the way this is going that you don’t want to,” she was trying to calm herself down but you could tell she was struggling.
“No, no, no, back to the main question, why do you care that I’ve been seeing other people? We broke up!” you uncrossed your arms and got yourself some water too, your hands needed to do something.
“Because!” she huffed, “Because I still care for you and I don’t want you to get hurt,” she sighed once more, “and I miss you.”
You stop in your tracks and set the glass down gently before your impulse took over to throw it. You glare at her, “then why did you leave?”
“Because it wasn’t fair to you! We barely saw each other and when we did we would fight! I loved you too much to do that to you,” tears began to form in her eyes but she didn’t dare let them fall.
“I was perfectly fine letting you do what you love and was willing to work it out, you never talked to me about how you felt! You just up and left!” you threw back.
“Are you serious?! I had a flight that morning I had to leave, it was nothing to do with you.”
“You could’ve waited,” you growled.
“And make you feel more miserable?”
“I wasn’t!! That’s what I’m saying! I loved you, hell I still do, but that was bad the way you did it and you know it,” you pointed at her, hoping that she didn’t catch that one part.
“You what?”
Damn it, “you heard me.”
She sat at the bar and hung her head in her hands, sniffling.
“Rhea…” you start, and the lump in your throat was getting bigger, “I was distracting myself so that I could stop thinking about you. You consume my life, I think about you all the time,” a tear fell and you wiped it away before she could see. “I couldn’t do anything that first month, I was miserable, I had to do something.”
She lifted her head, her face was red and covered in tears. “I never stopped loving you,” she admitted.
“That makes two of us,” you said under your breath. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t want to hurt you again,” she wiped her nose with a paper towel.
You couldn’t think of anything to say. You sat there staring at her, thinking of everything you’ve ever done together and where it went wrong, but it never came up. “What do you want me to say?” you sigh.
“I don’t know,” she caught your eyes. Those icy blue perfect eyes staring back into you.
“Then what do you want from me?”
She sat for a minute racking her brain, trying to think of an answer that was different from what she wanted to say, but what’s the use, she thought and decided to shoot her shot anyway, “Another chance?”
You contemplate for a few short seconds, “You have to promise me-”
“I’ll do anything please, baby,” she didn’t mean to call you that, but you let it slide.
“You have to promise me that you’ll keep me informed on your schedule no matter what. We will make it work. Take me with you, I’ll pay for the extra bed, I’ll pay for the tickets, just…” you take a deep breath, “don’t give up again.” You didn’t think you would fold so quickly, but here you were.
“I promise, I’ll send it right now, the whole month. And when the next one comes I’ll send you that too,” as she took out her phone and sent it, “we can download a shared calendar app.”
“Thank you,” you took a sip of your water and set it back down. “Now are you going to admit that you were supposed to meet me at the coffee shop or what?”
“I had to get to you somehow,” she smiled nervously.
“You didn’t think that Leah Shipley wouldn’t raise an eyebrow?”
“Hey, what can you do?” she shrugged.
The two of you sat in silence for a good minute smiling at the thought of her trying to trick you.
“So are you going to kiss me or what?” you said a little too confidentally.
She basically ran around the counter and slammed her mouth against yours, holding your jaw. Your hands grabbed her waist and pulled her in tightly.
“God, I missed you,” she breathed.
“Shut up,” as you kiss her again.
She carefully walked you backwards towards the counter as your lips danced against hers. Your hands found themselves roaming her body naturally, like it was never gone.
She picked you up onto the counter, carefully moving things away. Her hips shoved their way in between your thighs pushing your dress up as she went, as you wrapped your legs around her, pulling her in as close as possible.
A hand found its way into your hair and yanked it to the side letting a whimper spill out of you. She kissed down your neck, biting delicately sending shockwaves down to your core. She kissed her way down your chest until she couldn’t find anymore bare skin. Suddenly, her arms pulled you forward to where you almost fell off the counter, yanking your dress farther up. She planted soft kisses on your inner thighs which made you crazy.
“Can I-” she whispered before you cut her off.
“Do it. I don’t care just fuck me, please baby,” you had missed her touch so badly. No one had ever made you feel the way she did, it was insane. She knew how to work you out just right.
With a devilish smirk she bit harder on your thighs spreading them as far as they would go. Your hand tangled itself in her hair as you used the other one to lean back. She grabbed at the waistband of your underwear and slid them off of you. A shiver hit your body as the cool air hit your hot center.
Her eyes widened at the sight of you basically dripping onto the counter, “Damn, baby, you missed me that much?”
“Shut up,” you said once more and shoved her head into you.
She immediately began lapping at your juices. You moan loudly with your head slamming on the cabinets behind you. A small “fuck,” fell from your lips followed by another moan. Her hand grazed up your thigh, lightly scratching its way up. It reached around to the small of your back and pushed you more forward into her. Riding her face, your hand gripped hair tighter. The hand sneaked its way back around and prodded at your entrance.
“Please, yes,” you whine.
And so she did, gently plunging her two fingers into you. “God,” you groan as your eyes rolled back.
She kissed the inside of your thighs before returning to your neck and kissing her way up to your lips. You grab her face, kissing her intensely, as she’s now pounding into you. Her other hand returns to your now swollen clit and adds to the knot growing inside of you.
“You missed me, baby?” she coos.
“So… fucking… bad,” you breathe.
“Then show me,” she growled.
Only a few seconds pass and you released all over her hand with a loud moan, squeezing your legs closed but was stopped by her hips blocking your way. Your back arching into the woman in front of you, “ffffffucccckk,” you whine as she kisses your neck. Your nails are digging into her shoulder blades as she continues to pump in and out of you letting you enjoy the high.
As you came down, catching your breath, you release your grip on her shoulders. Your head lolled forward leaning onto the wrestlers forehead for a few breaths before leaning back onto the cabinet. She gently pulled her fingers out of you and brought them to her mouth, cleaning them off.
“I forgot how good you taste, princess,” her accent was so thick you almost came undone again.
“It’s been too long,” you sigh.
“I guess we have some catching up to do, then huh?” she smirked. She picked you up with a giggle coming from both of you and began to carry you to your bedroom.
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yurislotusgarden · 1 year
Note
Hii! could I request ranpo and chuuya with a fem s/o who makes cute bento boxes for their lunch at work? (I was curious on how this would go, feel free to add any details you want!)
My bento!
ʚїɞ Separately! Nakahara Chuuya, Ranpo Edogawa, Sigma x F!Reader
ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!
ʚїɞ word count: 1764 (Chuuya - 537, Ranpo - 664, Sigma - 561)
ʚїɞ Have Sigma as an extra bcs my ass forgot it was meant to be Ranpo instead of him after I was done with Chuuya's part
ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names are used (barely), reader’s gender is not specified that much
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Nakahara Chuuya!
ཐིཋྀ He loves the bentos so much, well more like the fact that you take time to make them for him
ཐིཋྀ Tries to always eat them
ཐིཋྀ Once, when you started making them, he didn’t eat the food because he was so busy that day, and when he had a little free time, Chuuya decided it was a better idea to go on a stress smoke break (He tries to limit smoking to the minimum he can if you don’t like smoking/the fact that he does it. He knows it’s because you care about his health)
ཐིཋྀ It ended with you fussing over him eating almost nothing that day and he doesn’t like causing you stress or making you worry so he makes sure to eat those bentos😭
ཐིཋྀ He may be an executive but this man is not embarrassed at all to eat those bentos in front of people, no matter how colorful or cutesy the food looks
ཐིཋྀ Food is food, he’s not gonna not eat cause you to worry just because the bento is one that doesn’t look like someone like him would eat
///////////////
“Lad, may I ask where do you get those bentos from?”
It was a long time since Kouyou noticed Chuuya’s bentos, and she tried to ignore just how much she wanted to try one. The only reason why she didn’t is because she doesn’t know where he is getting them from.
The young woman looked at many shops in Yokohama and saw a few places with similar bentos, but it was easy to see that none of the stores were the ones where Chuuya kept getting his lunch from.
…She really wanted one for herself, especially with how obvious it was that they were delicious, kept quiet about it tho.
Chuuya turned towards the older woman, whom he came to see as an older sister over the years.
“They’re not bought from a shop.”
“You don’t buy them?”
“Not a single one of them. Actually,-”
Kouyou was confused. Where did he get a bento from every single day? She knows the younger of the two probably wouldn’t bother spending his free time making food for lunch definitely a day before, even if he did, it wouldn’t be so colorful or detailed. There were even rice balls decorated as bears and stuff, it obviously took time to make one. But if he wasn’t buying them,  then the only other option that came to her mind was-
“- [Name] makes them for me.”
“She does?”
“Yeah, and she’s yet to make one I dislike.”
It all makes sense now to the red-haired woman. You have more free time most of the time compared to Chuuya, and you were probably aware of the eating habits he had before.
The fact that you take time, quite a lot it seems if Kouyou was to guess, the bentos are even detailed, in a very cute style if she was to say, made a smile appear on her face.
“Mhm, you wanna try?”
“How could I refuse such an offer?”
The food was even better than she thought. Kouyou made a mental note to ask you if you would have a problem with making two bentos from time to time.
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Edogawa Ranpo!
ཐིཋྀ Another reason as to why he’s dating you -you give extra homemade sweets to the Bentos-
ཐིཋྀ He doesn’t even need to try to remember to eat it because he ends up eating it before lunch anyway -the reason behind you making more than one bento usually-
ཐིཋྀ He fucking boasts to everyone about the food😭
ཐིཋྀ “See what I have here? HAHA! Something you don’t and probably never will!” ← totally not Ranpo to anyone else -and totally not him to Dazai and Atsushi about the fact that they will probably never have homemade food like him-
ཐིཋྀ Don’t make the bentos with him in the kitchen unless you have prepared double the amount of food you plan to use. He uses any opportunity to snack on the not-ready-yet bentos
ཐིཋྀ BUT! He will share with you if he notices you’re hungry or just generally wanna eat it <3
///////////////
“C’mon give me just a little piece!”
“Nope! [Name] made it for me! Make your own if you want a bento at work, Yosano-san!”
“I can’t make such a bento Ranpo-san!”
“Not my problem!”
With a pout, the brunette turned his chair away, trying to eat his food in peace. It’s one of his favorite bentos! You put his favorites in this one! The only thing he doesn’t like in it is the veggies which Ranpo would ignore or throw out but he knows that he won’t get his favorite candy made by you anytime soon if he does (the others will snitch if he throws them out, especially Dazai and Yosano they did that the one and only time he did so. He learned a lesson from that after you didn’t cook his favorite like you said you would that morning)
Ranpo could practically feel the eye-roll done by Yosano. “It’s not like it’s the only bento you had today.” It’s true, he ate a similar one 2 hours earlier. “Doesn’t matter. It’s my bento either way.” A sigh came from the woman.
And right when one would think his problem was solved, another arrived. 
“Ranpo-san! What an interesting bento you have there!”
“Go away Dazai. I’m not giving you a single piece of my food!”
“Oh c’mon! You can spare a little!”
“Nope! Especially not when it’s [Name]’s cooking!”
Seriously, can’t they leave him alone? He knows your cooking is good, everyone at the agency knows that! But he wishes that you’d never let Dazai taste your food. The bandaged man has horrible eating habits, you both know that, and yet he always tries to get his hands on Ranpo’s bentos. The audacity!
Ranpo could tell that Dazai's annoying mouth was about to open again before someone interrupted him.
"I can make bentos for you too if you like them so much, Dazai-san"
Isn't that his angel who came to visit him at his oh-so-tiring job? Lovely timing, if Ranpo was to say, but there was one problem.
Among ‘hello’s and ‘hi’s from others upon noticing you, gasps could be heard, from 2 men specifically.
"You would do that for me?!"
"Excuse me?!"
What is this?! There's no way that you’re gracing anyone else with the perfection that are your his bentos!
“Hm?” It’s easy to see for anyone in the room that you were confused.
“[Name]-chan, if you could be so nice, could I ask for a bento with cra-”
“No no no! Shut up Dazai! She’s not making you any bentos! In your dreams!”
In the end, while Ranpo and Dazai at first thought that you wouldn’t make the taller brunette a bento after your conversation at that moment, you indeed did as a surprise. 
The best detective in the world didn’t like that but he allowed you to after bribing him and reminding him that if you can get Dazai to eat, you will, no matter if Ranpo will allow you to make a bento for him or not.
Dazai's happy scream the next day could probably be heard throughout the whole building.
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Sigma!
ཐིཋྀ He didn’t think he’d be able to adore you more than he already does, and yet you found a way to make him do so
ཐིཋྀ He tries to eat the bentos every day but it isn’t that rare that he forgets about eating altogether when faced with a mountain of paperwork or problems in the casino
ཐིཋྀ He loves how they look and taste. He, at one point, will ask if you can teach him how to cook. Like not even necessarily a bento, just to learn since he doesn’t want the kitchen to end up in flames one day, he’s aware he sucks at cooking
ཐིཋྀ He probably would be a little embarrassed by eating it. Not because of how colorful or cutesy they are, but because of the looks he gets from people who see it. 
ཐིཋྀ The stares aren’t criticizing or anything, others just don’t expect that their boss/the manager of the casino would eat food that looks like that
ཐིཋྀ Someone was probably jealous because he has homemade bentos like that and they have some store-bought sandwiches 💀
///////////////
“It’s mine actually. Sorry, I forgot to take this from here earlier.”
The man standing in front of the bar was shocked.
He’s been sitting there and drinking not too much for some time now. At one point he noticed the bartender taking out a bento from under the bar, the lid see-through enough to see the food inside. He has to say, the detail and overall look were very cute, it definitely took time to make it look so.
The man had thought that the bento was made by someone for the bartender (In his mind it was a fair thought as he didn’t think that one could buy a bento like that anywhere close to a place like this. Especially if you work there).
The slightly shorter man changed his thought upon noticing that the bartender didn’t touch the food he had taken out (later on the lunch break he took out something else to eat)
Around 2 hours after the lunch break, -the bento still untouched, he noticed- the man decided to finally ask, curiosity winning over after all the time spent at the bar seat.
“Excuse me, who is the owner of the bento? I couldn’t help but notice that it hasn’t been touched at all.”
And he really chose the worst time to ask that question didn’t he? Right as the person to whom the bento belonged to, came.
“I-It’s yours sir?”
“Yes, why?”
How is he supposed to answer? That he didn’t think that such a cute-looking bento -that if he could he would consider stealing, it looks delicious and definitely better than his sandwich- can belong to the ever so stoic and calm manager of the sky casino?
“No reason! Was just that curious, that’s all! after all, the bento was lying here for the past, almost, 3 hours by now.”
“Ah, understandable then”
The bi-colored-haired man turned to the bartender, who was already giving the box over to him.
“Thank you for keeping it here for me, Shuichi-kun”
“no problem, Sigma-san. [Name]-san also told me to tell you-”
Yeah, the man needs a break from the confusion and shock for the next week.
And Sigma? He’s just happy you leave the bentos somewhere he can take them from when you know he’s busy.
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Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3
Do not copy or translate my works on/to any site
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eskawrites · 1 year
Text
i’ve been enabled here ya go
tagging @el-fandom-birb and @hellsfireclub bc you’re both very sweet and i’m sorry the erathia movies aren’t real but here’s the closest thing we can get
outline of tales of erathia, a fake 80s fantasy trilogy from a fake story about robin and nancy from stranger things oh god what is my life
(Robin – Lark. Feral child turned Robin Hood-esque rogue. Proficiency with a bow.
Nancy – Tenar. Princess with a mind of her own. Becomes queen over the course of the movies
Steve – Arren. Your typical dashing fantasy rogue. Head of his and Robin’s band of misfits
Max – Moss. A fast and sneaky street kid who gets in over her head and ends up falling into Steve and Robin’s gang
Dustin – Ged. a young sorcerer with a skill he has yet to fully comprehend)
-
First movie:
Arren, Lark, and Ged have been surviving on their own for as long as any of them can remember. They rely on each other and don’t need anyone else. Arren’s strength and charm, Lark’s quick wit and ability to improvise, and Ged’s unmastered yet awe-inspiring power are all they need to get out of any scrap. And they’ve been in plenty of scraps, but none so intense as the one they’ve stumbled across this time: a secret plot to kidnap the princess and use the kingdom’s distraction to take the throne.
But there’s a twist: the princess knows about this plot, too. Young Tenar is beloved by her people for being a perfectly behaved pretty face, but when she suspects part of her father’s personal guard is hiding something, no one gives her the time of day. She has to take matters into her own hands.
It puts her into the path of Arren, who just so happens to know exactly who she is and why she’s on the run. Cue Arren being overeager to save the princess, Tenar being impatient and determined to put things right, and Lark being exasperated with both of them.
This one’s actually a pretty typical fantasy plot. The beautiful princess teams up with the dashing rogue and his ragtag friends to save the day. Along the way Arren, Lark, and Ged run into Moss, a snarky young girl who tries to pickpocket one of the villains and ends up in way over her head. Ged also continues to learn more about what his powers mean—with the help of Tenar and the royal library, of course. And there’s some flirting between Arren and Tenar, along with some jealousy on Lark’s part. But at the end of the day, the gang stops the villain and saves the kingdom. Hooray!
Second movie:
It’s been a year since they saved the kingdom, and life has changed a lot for our heroes. Tenar, now taken a bit more seriously among her people, sometimes, is starting to take on more courtly duties. She finds herself challenging older advisors on her parents’ council and starts wondering what it would be like to just be able to do things her way for once, without anyone doubting her.
Meanwhile, our ragtag group of rogues has entered proper society. Arren was knighted at the end of the first film, and he spends most of his time on duty in the castle. Ged, too, is thriving with the change of scenery. With proper tutors and near-endless knowledge and resources at his disposal, he’s quickly becoming a master of his magic. But Lark and Moss are struggling. Moss gets away with being snarky and antisocial—after all, she’s still just a kid. But Lark finds herself stuck somewhere in the middle. She isn’t allowed to become a knight along with Arren. She isn’t allowed to do whatever she wants alongside Moss. With Arren so busy, she ends up taking care of Moss and Ged whenever something comes up, which means she spends long days keeping Moss out of trouble on the streets or trying not to fall asleep in the library while Ged explains his research. Meanwhile, the people—from common folk out on the streets to the castle guards who owe her everything—look at her with distrust, knowing her background. And with Arren spending most of his days with fellow soldiers or with Tenar herself, she’s lonelier than ever.
But trouble arises in the kingdom once more. Tenar decides to personally investigate something in a nearby village, and she takes Arren with her. (as a note, this is where the slap scene happens: the original script was a scene about Lark being jealous that Arren was spending all his time with Tenar. There’s also tension stemming from the fact that both girls feel useless in their current position and think if they just had what the other had—if Tenar had Lark’s freedom and if Lark had Tenar’s position of power—they’d have no problem at all. So as Tenar is preparing to leave with Arren, she and Lark find themselves in a room alone. This…doesn’t happen very often. They’re extremely different people with extremely different responsibilities and despite saving the world together, they don’t know each other that well. What starts as overly polite conversation devolves into an argument, with both girls throwing unfair judgment at each other. Lark says something awful to her, something along the lines of calling her the spoiled, naïve princess everyone believes her to be, and Tenar hits her. they both leave the scene feeling hurt and guilty, and Tenar leaves on her mission with Arren before they see each other again)
Almost immediately after Arren and Tenar leave, Ged senses something is wrong. He doesn’t know what it is exactly, but he fears the villains they defeated in the first film aren’t entirely gone. Normally he would go to Arren, but with him gone, he turns to Lark instead. Things only get worse from there, and suddenly Lark, Ged, and Moss have to save the kingdom again—only this time, Arren isn’t with them. In fact, Arren should’ve been back by now.
So, afraid, out of her depth, and jaded about the world she finds herself in, Lark has to take up the mantle of leader. She finds not only Ged and Moss looking to her, but the castle guard as well. Suddenly all those people who looked down on her are relying on her to defeat the evil that threatens their kingdom again. Lark finds herself coordinating with the king’s council, organizing the guard, carrying all the power she envied in Tenar—and all the terrible responsibility that comes with it.
Meanwhile, out of town, Tenar and Arren run into their own issues. Their investigation leads to an ambush, and with no backup and no way of contacting anyone for help, they have to think on their feet and rely on only each other to survive. There are no rules out here, no council to convince, no guards to organize. And at the same time, there’s no one else they can rely on. In fact, most people they meet turn them away or are actively working against them. They are well and truly alone. Tenar finds herself surrounded by the freedom she’s always wanted, and faces the danger and unpredictability she never could have imagined alongside it.
The two groups reunite before the final battle in a very Stranger Things-esque way, and after they save the day again, Tenar and Lark find they have newfound understanding and respect for each other.
Third movie:
Our beloved heroes have grown into themselves wonderfully. Lark was offered knighthood and turned it down, preferring her own agency and control instead. But she still serves as a protector and advisor for the kingdom. Arren is Tenar’s chosen knight, but he balances his time a bit better between his duties to the kingdom and his time with his chosen family. Moss is still a handful, but she serves as Lark’s right hand and always has her back (there’s definitely a scene somewhere toward the end where Moss saves Lark’s life—it probably parallels a scene in the first film where Lark saves Moss. Max and Robin got very into filming it and were both exhausted in the best way possible by the end of the day). Meanwhile, Ged is the kingdom’s most well-respected sorcerer, equal parts powerful and kindhearted. Lark jokes that she doesn’t know where he gets it from.
Tenar and Lark are still a little formal with each other, still living in very different worlds. But they get along well enough, especially when they’re with the rest of the group.
But trouble arrives one day when Lark, Arren, Moss, and Ged are hanging out, having left the capital city to camp beneath the stars for a day or two, just like old times. Arren asks Lark, late at night after the others fall asleep, if she ever thinks about leaving. If she ever wants to disappear from the castle, from this life of rules and formalities, and go back to the way things were. She does, sometimes.
They’re attacked the next day on their way back to the castle, a coordinated ambush that ends with Arren gravely injured and all of them having to run. They manage to get out of there, and that leads to the night shoot scene where Lark is scouting the area and comes across a fleeing Tenar.
Until that moment, Lark doesn’t know what to think about what happened. The attack was too well coordinated, too perfectly planned, to be a coincidence. And the only people who knew where their group was going was, well, the king’s court. She doesn’t know why they would betray their group, but there’s no other explanation. She brings this up to Moss and Ged. Ged outright denies it. Moss also clearly doesn’t want to believe her, but she agrees it makes sense. But there’s nothing they can do right now except survive, so they make camp, patch Arren up to the best of their abilities, and Lark patrols the area to make sure they’re actually safe for now.
She runs into Tenar—dress torn, dirt smudged on her cheeks, seemingly running for her life—and she immediately falls back into that defensive exterior she’s built up all her life. She aims her bow at Tenar and demands to know what she’s doing out here, afraid that Tenar is part of the plot, or is a distraction, or—
But Tenar breaks down. “They killed them all,” she says, and then she just falls apart in Lark’s arms. Lark doesn’t let her guard down for pretty much the rest of the movie, but in that moment, her prickly, angry, painfully cautious defenses expand to include Tenar.
She takes Tenar back to their camp, helps patch her up, assures her that Arren will be fine, if a bit slow on his feet for a while, and slowly, gently, gets Tenar’s story out of her.
The attack was more coordinated than Lark thought. At the same time that a group was ambushing Lark and her friends on the road, an entire army was laying siege to the castle. They had inside help—someone on the king’s court, which proves Lark’s suspicions correct, in a way. Another advisor, someone who had always been on Tenar’s side, hid her just in time. Tenar managed to stay out of danger, for a little while, but she witnessed almost everyone she cares for being killed in front of her—including both of her parents. Knowing she couldn’t hide forever, Tenar grabbed her father’s sword and made a run for it. She had to fight a little bit on the way out, but she escaped the castle and ran for the woods. By sheer luck, she ran straight into Lark.
They have to figure out how to regroup from there. With Arren so badly injured, Tenar and Lark find themselves working directly together for the first time. And it turns out, they do so perfectly. They build off each other, back each other up. They come up with a plan to return to the capital and meet up with whatever survivors there are.
Before they do, Arren asks Lark, late at night again, if they shouldn’t just leave. Flee the kingdom, Tenar can come with them even, but they don’t have to risk everything again. This place was never even their home in the first place. But Lark looks at Tenar—sitting with Ged and Moss—and she shakes her head. “It is now,” she says. “We can’t turn our backs on it.”
So they go. They make their way back to the capital city and manage to find where the few knights and advisors who survived the attack on the castle are hiding. They win small victories, and people start to whisper that their princess—their soon-to-be queen—has returned to save them.
Somewhere in all of this, Tenar hatches a plan to take down the villain for good, but it’s dangerous. It puts herself at risk. For the first time since they started to work together, Lark tries to stop her.
(this is the scene that Robin struggles to film—the one that she says could stay in or could end up cut, and the one that leads to her and Nancy’s argument on set.)
It’s not a big scene. In the script, it’s kind of like a dark before the dawn sort of thing. One bad moment of tension before the battle that leads to victory. Maybe a little bit of a revival of their old rivalry. Lark tries to stop Tenar, Tenar thinks it’s because Lark doesn’t believe in her. Really, it’s because Lark doesn’t want to see anyone else she cares about get hurt. It ends tense and uncertain and they both carry that frustration with them into their respective roles of the final battle.
While filming, Robin is so riddled with anxiety about where she and Nancy stand that she just can’t get it right. She starts by fumbling her lines, messing up her cues, moving out of place, etc. It’s messy. Even after she gets those fundamentals down, she can’t quite hit the emotion of the scene. She can’t snap at Nancy in the sharp way Lark is supposed to be speaking to Tenar. It’s not a long scene, but finding the balance between tension and frustration and urgency and fear and care is difficult, especially when she’s already off-kilter from the events leading up to this point.
They call a break, Nancy and Robin have their argument during lunch, and when they return to set, Robin…isn’t better, really, but her mood has dipped. She’s settled into something sad and hopeless, and maybe a touch desperate. It’s not snark. It’s not thrilling tension that helps build the stakes for the final battle, but Scott decides that’s just not going to happen, so he finishes the scene and lets them both go.
(it’s actually not a terrible scene once they go back and review it, but it isn’t what they wanted tonally and it doesn’t quite fit the way it was supposed to, so it does end up getting cut. But, in a director’s release somewhere down the line—after Robin and Nancy go public with their relationship—the scene gets added back in. with some hindsight, and the increasingly popular idea that there’s something more to Tenar and Lark’s relationship than friendship, the scene reads as Lark desperate for Tenar not to put herself in danger. The sharp words and cutting wit might not be there, but how deeply she cares for Tenar is abundantly clear. And there’s a glance, so brief, of Tenar looking at Lark while Lark is turned away, and she looks frustrated and helpless, like there are a hundred things she just can’t say.)
Anyway, cue the final battle. Some losses, some fearful moments, a shit ton of cool fight choreography and epic music, you get the idea. Tenar is a formidable warrior, Arren, Lark, Moss, and Ged work as a cohesive unit, just as they always have. And at the end of the day, they win. They finally win.
It’s a Lord of the Rings-style epilogue, too. A gorgeous coronation scene for Tenar as she’s crowned queen. Moss and Ged both heading rebuilding efforts in the capital city, and a quiet moment of Arren and Lark looking around at how far they’ve come. they all live happily ever after while their actors go on to lead pretty fucked up lives for the next ten years
A few notes:
The ideas for these films are a weird mishmash of star wars, lotr, and cheesy 80s fantasy stuff (willow, legend, princess bride, etc) with influences from stranger things, the plot of the cfdau itself, and maybe a little bit of legend of zelda and wicked and other personal obsessions thrown in later on
There are obviously romance scenes between Arren and Tenar and Arren and Lark. Arren and Lark are by far the more popular ship, especially after everyone starts suspecting Robin and Steve are together.
Max gets typecast as a kid sister character for a long time, which is why she mostly sticks to theater. She has nothing against the role, it’s just not as fun when she’s not Robin’s kid sister
Nancy gets typecast as a love interest/damsel in distress, which infuriates her because Tenar’s character revolves around breaking free of that archetype. She doesn’t turn down roles, though, so she just gets stuck with parts she’s not that invested in
I always wanted the movie trilogy for this fic to be revolutionary for its time—it would kind of have to be to have 3/5 of the main cast be women and the main love triangle be a guy choosing between two girls rather than a girl choosing between two guys. Nancy and Robin wanting to put more depth into their characters’ relationships—and Scott letting them—added to that idea. I also think Lark getting the chance to become a leader—to go from Arren’s sidekick who doesn’t really want to help the kingdom to being the one calling the shots in the second and third films—is pretty big. That was a later idea, though—one that came after I wrote Doris’s character and had Robin think more about the positive impact she’s been able to have.
I’ve said it before but yes there is a tenlark fandom and yes it grows after Robin comes out and yes it grows even more after Nancy and Robin go public. There’s still backlash, of course, but between Robin and Nancy becoming such big role models in the media and the support of everyone else who was involved in the Erathia films, the ship becomes something of a cultural phenomenon.
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timaeusterrored · 1 year
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(What anniversary?)
(College au stuff bc I miss them so much it hurts)
Kerry didn’t know why he was pouting. He knew this day wasn’t memorable to Johnny like it was him. He knew that this was another Tuesday for Johnny. And yet today is the day that Kerry’s life changed forever.
The bell on the shop door jingled and surprisingly enough, a fairly sober Henry walked in with his hands in his pockets. Kerry sat up a bit but his expression didn’t change. No point in hiding from Henry.
“Hey man, you look like someone ran over your dog.”
“Thanks. The fuck do you want?” Kerry didn’t mean to bite or be bitchy, but he was so done with today and was ready to go and crash on Nancy’s couch for the night.
“Flowers.”
“Fucking really? You came to a florist for flowers?” Kerry asked, sarcasm dripping in his voice as he leaned against the counter. “Somethin’ for Denny? What’d you do this time?”
“For Johnny actually. Got some girl he’s trying to impress.”
Oh.
Was he being fucking serious? Was this a fucking joke?
“Then why are you here? He couldn’t even come in himself?”
“He’s working a double tonight, Mike’s out with the flu and they are down a bartender.” Kerry noticed then that Henry had not made eye contact with him once. Making a point of avoiding him. He shrugged it off though, Henry was a weird guy.
“What kind of flowers is he looking for?”
“He said he knew they wouldn’t have the kind he wanted, so white roses, hyacinths, violets, and lilies.”
Kerry paused, turning to look back at Henry who was looking at the ceiling.
“‘Don’t have what he wants’ who the fuck does he even think he is? Why are those so oddly specific, this a girl he actually wants to apologize too- Are these for Rogue?”
“Something like that.” Henry said from the counter.
“Something like that?” Kerry asked, assembling the bouquet. He wondered what he had to do to get this kind of treatment from Johnny.
“Y’know, it’s none of my fucking business. He can do what he wants.” Kerry huffed, shaking his head. He didn’t care. Why would he?
“Have a great day, Henry.” Kerry muttered, walking to the back to stare at the clock until closing time finally came.
He had to run home first. He needed his guitar and some clothes for Nancy’s since the ones he had at her place needed to be washed. Johnny wouldn’t be home since he was covering for Mike that night. Maybe he was trying to avoid Kerry.
He set his keys on the counter when he noticed something on their coffee table. He raised a brow and stopped on his way to the bedroom.
It was the fucking flowers he assembled earlier. The more he thought, the more he realized the odd things about that situation. Henry had refused to really have a conversation with him, or even look at Kerry. No jokes, no nothing because Henry was awful at lying to him. The cash he paid with was tips Johnny had been collecting.
The flowers were apology flowers. Kerry remembered now from the amount of boyfriends he had met that fucked up and came in to get their girlfriends something. They weren’t all there, but damn was Kerry honestly a bit impressed Johnny remembered such a trivial thing about his job.
Then he remembered another thing. Johnny had come in one day while Kerry had been assembling a ‘please don’t break up with me’ bouquet for some guy that would not shut up. The flowers weren’t exactly the same but Johnny had remembered a few.
Kerry dropped his jacket and sat on the couch, now officially feeling like an ass. All day he had been in a bitchy mood because he thought Johnny had forgotten.
He took the note off the flowers and huffed, and in Johnny’s handwriting it read:
‘We met 17 years ago today. Yes I remembered.
P.S. Get fucking Sampaguita.’
Kerry stared down at the note, tapping his finger on the side of it. He felt a small smile on his face, because this is probably the nicest thing anyone had done for him. His bar was so low it was kind of sad if he was honest with himself.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Kerry rubbed his face, taking the flowers to get them settled where they’d be safe. Henry probably hadn’t anticipated Kerry working that day and that’s why he wasn’t looking at him. Even though he was the one to assemble them, seeing them now was like seeing the most beautiful flowers ever.
Johnny got home around 2:30 am, muttering to himself as he traveled through the dark apartment. Today had been hell and he fucking hated when Mike called out. Not that Aaron and Blake were useless, they were decent at their jobs but Mike being there really helped everyone out considering he was one of the few that actually understood Johnny’s instructions.
He rubbed his eyes and trudged into the bathroom when he heard the faint sound of Kerry playing guitar. He wasn’t necessarily shocked that Kerry was awake, but also what the fuck go to sleep.
He peaked into the bedroom to find Kerry on the floor, smoking and playing with only his laptop illuminating him. Even in such ass lighting, Kerry still found a way to be the prettiest person Johnny had ever seen.
He leaned against the door and waited to be noticed. And when his companion opened his eyes, their eyes immediately locked.
“Heard you were in a bitchy mood today.”
“Fuck you.” Kerry put the joint in an ashtray to talk.
“Didn’t know you worked today.” He really hadn’t, he thought Kerry had classes today. Guess not.
“Yeah it was cute having to assemble my own flowers thinking it was for one of your girlfriends.” Kerry rested his arm over his guitar and gave Johnny a pointed glare.
The two stared for what felt like eternity before Johnny moved first. He figured playing the ‘I forgot’ game wouldn’t be found cute by Kerry. But honestly, how could he ever forget their day like that. It was the only date he really remembered. It was his fucking phone password.
“You wanna shower with me or am I gonna have to shower alone?” Johnny asked, making Kerry sigh.
“Fine. But you’re still a fucking dick.”
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goopi-e · 1 year
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Aaaanyways, who wants to hear my pitch for a pre-flood Zelda game that'll never happen. It was, like, the first thing I came up with as soon as I joined the fandom (...and it shows), but kept it for myself, mostly bc for some reason I was never able to design any visuals for the thing.
No, I don’t think that’s what actually went down in canon while the flood was happening. Yes, the story contradicts some facts from WW and OoT. I just tried to make it as much of a playable experience as possible. It's not perfect, but has its' moments.
The Legend of Zelda: The Unnamed Pre-Flood Game
Prologue cutscene features visuals similar to WW's intro and goes like this: "There is hardly anyone in Hyrule who hasn't heard about the Hero of Time. Half a century after his triumph over Ganon and the subsequent disappearance, the deeds of the Hero started to fade into myth, yet there are still people who knew him and remember him fondly. The legacy of his kindness and valiance led the land to an era of prosperity under the rule of none other than Queen Zelda. However, recently she stepped aside from the throne with no explanation, never to be seen again, and rumors of concern started to creep across Hyrule. If both the Hero of Time and the Princess of Destiny had left their people, who will protect the land in case the unthinkable happens?.." It fades into black, not-so-subtly hinting that the unthinkable will happen really soon, and that it'll be none other than Ganon.
The playable character is preteen and can be named. It may either look like your average Link or nothing at all like him, doesn't matter – but throughout the game you're constantly made aware that this kid is not a Link. You know how in the Child half of Ocarina many NPCs are dismissive of Link on behalf of him being a kid? That attitude is carried over here. No matter who you talk to, in the eyes of almost every character, the kid you play as is not the Hero of Time, so you have no business running around pretending to be one; even those sympathetic to your cause will make that distinction. That is a key concept. For that reason, I'll be referring to the playable character as, well, Kid.
Kid lives in Kakariko village, which has grown into more of a town, but not by a lot, and the Sheikah are beginning to recover from their near extinct status, though the majority of residents are still Hylians. Kid has parents! But they're both Royal Guards, and therefore are absent most of the time. For that reason, Kid is mostly left under the care of their neighbor, Auntie Malon – sadly, she had to sell her ranch and move, but that doesn't stop her from keeping some livestock. Kid's best friend is Nopiko, Auntie Malon's adoptive daughter who has a knack for sewing and getting into trouble; if you remember two Gossip Girls from Windfall Island, she looks exactly like the blond one, and is just as young. Mid-game Auntie Malon reveals that Nopiko is actually a Kokiri who wandered off from the Lost Woods; she took the girl in to honor the memory of her beloved Fairy Boy. Due to that, Nopiko is sensitive to the magic of the world – and one day, she informs Kid that something is off, and that they have to meet Nopiko's other friend, who lives all the way at Hyrule Castle. It's not the Castle you know from OoT, though: since Ganondorf emerged his Tower in its' place, the ruins of the Tower were considered cursed, and the new castle was built at Lake Hylia.
To get there, first you have to clear the game's tutorial dungeon – Sheikah Secret Archives. It's a secret police department with some similarities to the Shadow Temple, including the monsters, but also a giant office full of overworked Sheikah employees processing legal cases and such. It has some typical stealth sections where the guards can catch you (sorry), however, most of the time you can talk to the employees scot-free; they're all so overworked they have no energy to be bothered by an intruder and are mostly glad to vent to anyone willing to lend an ear. From their dialogue it becomes clear that they aren't happy with their job, but have no choice, being servants of the Royal Family and all. The amount of arrests the Sheikah Secret Police currently performs is abnormally high, too: Queen Zelda is gone without a trace, and for many her absence means something in the world is about to get really, really wrong, but none can place their finger on what exactly is about to happen, and that air of paranoia leads to civil unrests left and right. The prisoners are also there, ready to talk.
Sheikah Secret Archives is where you get the main (and only) item of the game, the Parasol. It's not a magical item: Kid just grabs some random Sheikah's umbrella in an act of self-defense, but you receive an item get pop-up all the same. You can use its' pointy tip as a makeshift sword or open it to create a makeshift shield.
The dungeon has no boss, so once you clear it, you arrive at the Castle Courtyard. Somehow, Nopiko is already there, talking to her mysterious friend about you. On your arrival, she introduces you by name and comments on how many times you've been caught in the dungeon: "See, Kid has gotten through the Archives and hasn't been caught/got caught only n times! They're so brave, and smart, and capable – if there's anyone in the whole world who can do this, it's them!"
This is where you get introduced to Nopiko's friend, Regent Princess Hepta. She, too, is drastically different from your average Zelda, with deep red hair in a pixie cut and a deadpan snark; she's also a bit older than Kid. Overall, she resembles a teenage version of Tetra's mom, sans the pirate clothes. Hepta sits in her room, talking with Kid and Nopiko through a window. It's clear that she is not amused by Kid, but begrudgingly accepts their help.
"I am of a Royal bloodline," Hepta explains, "but that blood connection is very weak, and I have very few magic powers, no match to those of Queen Zelda's. I have a gift of premonition, though, and it tells me something terrible is about to happen. I don't know what it'll be yet; however, I had a vision that the future of this land shall be revealed tonight at the Unicorn Fountain. Unfortunately, I won't be able to go there: you see, I am locked away by..."
Suddenly, Hepta shoos Kid and Nopiko away, and jumps off the window. They oblige, but catch a glimpse of a menacing middle-aged Sheikah woman, who seems to be angry with Hepta. The woman throws a glance at the courtyard, but doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary and leaves. Hepta, visibly distressed, reemerges and continues:
"My uncle, Daphnes Nohansen (and for anyone curious, yes, it's that Daphnes Nohansen) is the current king, but the actual power over Hyrule is in the hands of my nursemaid and the chief of secret police, Captain Byrna, who governs the land with an iron fist. She decreed that tomorrow I'll be officially crowned as the new Princess of Hyrule and take the name of Zelda in an attempt to quell the fears of the people. This is why I am locked in my room. But you, Kid, must understand that it is of utmost importance the vision at the Unicorn Fountain is seen by someone. You just might be the only hope that Hyrule has right now. Now please, lend me your hand".
Kid hesitantly offers their hand. Hepta kisses it, and an item get pop-up appears: "You got Regent Princess' Blessing! This magical gift will allow you to see the message of the gods!"
Then, a green fairy pops out from Hepta's room. This is Brimm, Nopiko's guardian fairy. He served as a messenger between her and Hepta – this is how they were able to keep up their friendship – but now will accompany you. Not only will Brimm deliver the vision you'll recieve to Hepta, he can also enhance your Parasol with the power of flight, allowing you to fast-travel to any check-point you discover. One of them is conveniently located at the courtyard; throughout the game, you'll be able to visit Hepta freely – she'll give you progression hints like the fortunetellers in Zelda series commonly do, provide some additional lore and lift your spirit with a sarcastic joke or two.
The Unicorn Fountain is your first proper dungeon. There, your Parasol gets a new ability: you can use it as either a boat or, using lilypads or any other flotsam to stand on, as a sail to glide across water. As the name implies, the dungeon is themed after a fairy fountain, is obviously full of healing fairies, and even the boss is a corrupted Great Fairy – she saw a glimpse of the revelation you're about to recieve, and it drove her mad.
After beating the boss, Kid emerges at a little clearing above ground somewhere in Hyrule Field, adorned with columns and such. It offers a view at the ruins of Ganon's Tower. It's midnight, the sight is beautiful and the air is very quiet. The three disembodied voices greet Kid, one of them weaker than the others, and are about to introduce themselves, but suddenly, a giant, ominous fissure cracks open throughout the Hyrule Field–
Ganon has returned.
His emergence is seen and heard throughout the land. From Gorons to Zora, from Sheikah to Gerudo – everyone covers in fear and desperately prays:
"Hero of Time! Come and save us!"
The voices seem to hear these cries for help and are distressed by them. "It's not in my power anymore!", the weaker voice exclaims in despair, "The Hero of Time was sent away from this world by a magic that I can't reverse – not in my current state!"
"Then", the other voice suggests with a calm that betrays the fury, "we have no choice but to fight Ganon ourselves until the Hero finds the way back".
"Ganon has the Triforce of Power at his side", the third voice solemnly responds. "We cannot fight him, but we can seal him away. That seal, however, will be a heavy burden on this land".
And so, the Hyrule was sentenced to the Great Flood.
The voices then address the terrified Kid. They crest them as the Guide, and their job will be to place the Beacons for the Hero to return to. With that, Kid is sent back to Kakariko, and Brimm flies away to bring all these news to Hepta.
From that point forward, the weather on the overworld is always rainy, and the ground starts to get covered in water; the water level rises with each dungeon you beat. Sometimes, Ganon can be seen roaming around like a big kaiju and wreaking havoc, but you can’t interact with him. Another thing that appears on the overworld in a similar manner is a structure that looks suspiciously similar to the Tower of the Gods, but with mechanical legs.
There is, of course, a long trading sequence sidequest spread through the game, but this time it comes with a twist: it only consists of Kid’s parents making them run some errands for themselves, Auntie Malon and Nopiko. Since they’re the Royal Guards, they’re constantly being relocated all across the country, and it’s Kid’s job to find where their parents end up. Parents also update you on what Captain Byrna does to stop you from doing your work, as she doesn’t believe the flood is happening and considers anyone who believes otherwise a threat to the public. She essentially has the same shtick as Jolene in PH, a random overworld encounter, just not as comedic.
There are four dungeons overall, each in a classic Zelda dungeon flavor: one in the Lost Woods, one in Zora’s Domain, one inside the Death Mountain and one in the Gerudo Desert. You are free to beat them in any order. Each dungeon comes with a settlement for an appropriate race. In each of them, you meet a key NPC – the type of person that usually turns out to be a Sage/Champion/whatever in any other Zelda game, but here they’re just ordinary people who are willing to help Kid despite them not being the legendary Hero. They all provide you with a little something to augment the powers of your Parasol, though: a magic rope you can tie to it to create a hookshot of sorts, a special handle that’ll allow you to zip across ropes, or a patch of fabric that’ll give the Parasol a magical property. Yes, it’s the kind of game where you obtain (some) items before the dungeon and not inside them.
(Btw, you do get to meet Laruto and Fado, they’re just too busy with the Sagely business to help you. They do acknowledge your hard work, though).
In Lost Woods, this person is a Deku Scrublet with a crush on one of the Kokiri. Kokiri themselves can’t grasp the direness of the situation: “How can a little rain hurt anyone? Water is what makes the plants grow, silly!” The Scrubs are more realistic about the situation, though, as they know they qualify as monsters and would be eliminated regardless of whether or not they actually serve Ganon. While most Scrubs fend for themselves, Scrublet in particular wants to save their crush above all else. By reuniting these young lovers, you help Kokiri realize that there is a way to save both races by uniting them with the magic of the Deku Tree. This is the origin story for the Koroks.
In Zora’s Domain, it’s a sweet elderly couple with an adult son. Zora, under the false assumption that the floodwater won’t hurt them, volunteer everywhere they can to protect other races, but that couple is among the few Zoras banned from volunteering due to their age, and they’re ashamed of their helplessness. Eventually, their son dies in a heroic accident, and it serves as a wake-up call for the rest of the Zora to start worrying about their own safety.
In Goron City, this person is a wise, yet nihilistic Professor. Gorons know for certain they’ll most likely survive the flood purely due to them not needing to breathe, but are too selfish to help other races (yes, I’m aware that Gorons end up as an antagonistic force far too often, sorry). Kid’s proactiveness makes Professor change his mind, though, and he suggests to the rest of the Gorons to leave the Death Mountain to the apparently vunerable Zora and evacuate elsewhere.
In Gerudo Fortress, it’s a young street artist. With Ganon’s return, Gerudo are obviously super conflicted. Some of them even start a doomsday cult, claiming that Ganon will surely come to his senses and save his people, and sabotage any and all attempts of evacuation. This leads to lots of infighting. The street artist knows that the doomsday cult people are in the wrong, but doesn’t think she can do anything to help – until proven wrong by Kid, that is.
With each dungeon cleared and Beacon restored, you get to see Ganon come and destroy the settlements. His arrival at the Gerudo Fortress is particularly blood-chilling: he insults his kin, calling them traitors and claiming that he is the only real Gerudo left – all while remaining in his beast form.
After you finish all four dungeons, the walking tower stops wandering, and you’re able to undertake the final gauntlet – the Royal Museum. The moment Kid steps inside it, a voice forbids them to advance any farther; Kid proceeds anyway. The final upgrage for the Parasol obtained here is the silver coating, making it essentially a Mirror Shield. The Museum, accurate to its’ name, hosts a plethora of artifacts from Hyrule’s rich history. The boss of this dungeon, then, is the curator and the one trying to stop Kid – and it’s none other than Sheik. After being defeated, Sheik shamefully admits that he left his life as Queen Zelda and stepped off the throne in an attempt to essentially bring the Triforce of Wisdom to his grave. He hoped that, with the Triforce of Courage shattered, the Triforce of Power sealed away with Ganon, and the Triforce of Wisdom buried in a safe spot, the Triforce will be effectively unable to reassemble back without being outright destroyed, stopping any future conflict over the relic.
Since the plan didn’t work out, Sheik decides to get more proactive. He bestows upon you an artifact that used to belong to a powerful mage from ancient times – the Wind Waker, and instructs you to bring it to Daphnes. While you deliver the Wind Waker, you are stopped by Captain Byrna for the final time. Upon the inevitable defeat, she notices the baton, realizes that you’re affiliated with Sheik, and it’s revealed that Byrna is actually OoT Impa’s descendant. That makes her snap back to her senses, she vows to stop letting down her honorable ancestor and starts evacuating Kakariko. The Wind Waker is safely delivered to Daphnes, and Kid gets to see him conduct before Fado and Laruto, performing the Song of Storms.
With that, Sheik appears behind Kid and, while acknowledging they’re not the Hero he used to know, still admits their exemplary courage and asks them to fight Ganon by his side.
The battle unfolds like any final battle in the series where Link and Zelda are fighting alongside one another, except now it’s Kid who serves as a support while Sheik deals most of the damage. The fight is split into several phases, and with each Ganon turns more and more humanoid. With the final hit, you get to see him fully becoming Ganondorf again. He is donned in the black robes that he’ll continue to wear up until WW, yet physically he still resembles his post-timeskip Ocarina self, but even more disheveled. He points out that, sooner or later, he will return, but the damage caused by the flood will have a greater impact than any damage he was capable of. Sheik, clearly not amused, ends him. All this time, Kid hides behind Sheik and is not acknowledged; the latter, done with Ganondorf, apologizes for the unfair world Kid gets to inherit, and expresses hope that they’ll right the wrongs of their ancestors, before willingly stepping into the rising waters.
Kid is also suddenly swept off their feet, only to awaken in an unidentifiable void that resembles the Sacred Realm more than anything. The three voices from the beginning reappear, now angrier than ever. They claim that, by helping Sheik, Kid interfered with fate itself, and, once again, remind that Kid is not destined to be the Hero… and then the owners of the voices materialize out of thin air.
Turns out, Ganon(dorf) was only a penultimate boss. The final obstacle of the game are the Golden Goddesses themselves; appropriately, the battle is frantic and harsh, and is focused more on surviving than dealing damage. Notably, only Din and Nayru are actively fighting Kid; Farore, while participating in the group attacks, seems to be in a lethargic state at first, and her signature green color is initially dull – but as the fight goes on, she gets more and more awake. Suddenly, she intercepts and urges her sisters to stop, as for the first time since the Hero of Time’s disappearance, she felt the surge of true Courage. She reaches out to Kid and says:
“It’s true that your actions defy fate and cannot be allowed to pass. For that I’m sorry. The world must awaken anew with no memory of your deeds. But I promise to remember the courage and kindness that sprouted from a place nobody expected, and I swear that the next time this world needs a Hero, it won’t be us gods who will forge him – he’ll pave that path himself!” With that, the whole world around Kid fades into pure white.
The final cutscene shows them waking up alongside Nopiko on a deserted island – the island that is revealed by a panoramic shot to be none other than Outset. In their hands lays the Parasol, quilted out of all the patches collected throughout the game.
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nightmarist · 5 months
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There was a car crash right outside my house. I didn’t realize it was a car crash for a while.
I’m partially deaf plus use noise cancelling earbuds but I felt something shake the house. Took out my earbuds and heard a lady screaming absolute bloody murder, “help me please help me, someone help me” like Top of her lungs she sounds like she’s fucking dying.
My dad and I go to the front door. He didn’t let me go outside, he pushes it closed when I try to open it. I tried to call 911 and the cunt took my fucking phone so that I couldn’t and said it’s none of our business, that some lady screams like that once a month (???? Excuse me??? And you never bothered to call someone?)
I heard the neighbor come out and say she called 911. Got my phone back (wtf tho)
Cops right outside in no time which is expected, two of them live in the neighborhood. My dad’s now trying to talk to me about a tv show while my ear pressed on the front door so I can try to hear what is happening since he won’t let me look. I’m trying to look out the peep hole and my god he will Not leave me tf alone.
I start texting my best friend who is also my neighbor in the street behind me.
I hear the lady screaming “let me call my mom, please let me call my mom, im only 16, she’s my best friend” while very obviously crying. Cop says they’ll let her call her mom. I look out the peep hole and there’s like, six police cars plus a fire truck. There’s a cop car parked in my front yard like halfway in the gravel. Dad asks me if they hit the mailbox. I said idk im trying to see what’s happening.
He goes to watch tv and I try to look out the window, I see a car with the front end totally crunched up and the neighbors car flipped on its side. I can’t see much else bc the fire trucks in the way. Can’t tell if like. Anyone’s hurt besides that girl that was screaming, I hope/assume she was uninjured and just hit a parked car.
Dad comes back to talk to me about his tv show and I tell him there’s a car crash.
He takes me phone again and goes outside to like. Film it. And bring it to me and tells me to show it to him. So I do. He doesn’t like how it looks so he takes Another video. Then makes me show him and then tells me I have to send it to my friend. I say yeah sure just to get him to leave and he says no, he wants me to show him that I sent it.
So FFS I send my friend the video abd show my dad the message. My dad then tells me to email it to him so he can “watch it on the big screen” (????? wtf man)
So I do. Tell my friend all of that while im morbidly curious looking out the window to see if anyone’s hurt (it doesn’t seem like it, no ambulance and a couple people getting questioned by the cops)
My dad comes in and asks me if they hit our mailbox again I say no (i don’t actually know, I can’t see, I don’t really care about the mail box right now!) then he asks if they hit his car like four times. Man idk You went outside. I’m still a little freaked out by the girl screaming her lungs out a few minutes ago, you know.
Anyway. I said no. He then asks as like. A stupid joke. “Hey if my car gets hit while it’s in the drive way so I call my car insurance or my house insurance” and he explains “it’s funny because if im not driving it then it’s property which is house insurance. But it’s my car so do I call car insurance or house insurance?”
I say I don’t know, just call them both so you can figure it out. He gets Mad at me and tells me I don’t “get” it and storms off to watch his show.
My guy. Someone could have died right outside our fucking house. They are parked in our Gravel. I’m trying to figure out what is happening. Shut the fuck up.
God. Anyway. That was genuinely terrifying. Still not particularly well about it. Looks like no one’s hurt thankfully. They chained up the crunched car and towed it off. Dad’s been bugging me to go out and take a photo of the neighbors car. I’m literally about to become the joker.
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milimeters-morales · 5 months
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me rambling under the cut
one of the least bad/most annoying side effects of atsv is how much it fucks over my thinking process when i’m trying to write a more realistic way of miles meeting up with people and friends from other worlds while being a student + spider-man + having a family that likes to spend time together, esp since i like to throw some comic characters into the mix. like it seems easy right? open a portal and go say hi. except you have to still plan ahead, because i have the times set different (for example peter is 30 minutes ahead and pavitr is an entire 12 hours), everyone has lives outside of being a vigilante (though gwen and margo give me the most freedom with this), and sometimes people just don’t wanna hang! don’t get me started on the portal itself, which you need to find a hidden spot to open and then take a few seconds to go through, to another side that you aren’t sure of the exact location. did you see the way the portal to pavitr’s world had Miles? and the way the go-home-machine sent gwen flying? of course, those are two diff types of portals, & there’s a workaround to everything, but it’s still a lot to consider and it just results in me taking forever to actually get shit down on paper. oh my god and the subtle tells of shit being resolved after btsv (bc i am not dealing with that) making the characters seem too ooc when they technically aren’t. bc it could happen. i’m always losing the idgaf war i love details i love hypotheticals and i love hidden meanings
another thing that isn’t canon and is just me making it harder for myself is me adding in anxiety and autism and a weird learned social behavior into the mix for miles. sure, guys and girls hang out. sure, they can be just friends. but he’s a guy who LIKED gwen and his parents don’t have the best first impression but are generally okay with her, and he’s at the age where all his girl friends will be teased as possible girlfriends by damn near everyone he knows. so it’s reasonable for him to not be around her while also around other people who don’t know the two of them like that, because dealing with that shit is exhausting AND embarrassing, stuff we both know Miles doesn’t like even if he can move on pretty quickly. so i expect him to sorta be like “nahhh… my cousins are here and… look let’s just hang out next time pleaseeee” and here’s where the anxiety and autism come in. miles (atsv) is not the type to care about how people view him based on his friends, and autism will result in him missing a lot of social cues but it’s kinda obvious to me that he doesnt miss the more romantic ones when it comes to gwen and how people view them together. this doesn’t help though because he doesn’t know what the do about it! he KNOWS the right thing: don’t let others get to you and work your shit out with gwen the way you know is right. but the anxiety makes him overthink about how gwen views all this (which i don’t actually go into detail that much about bc this is miles’s POV) because she means so much to him. and of course the whole “do i actually like her or is this just really deep connection or” from autism sometimes making it hard to define your feelings and a relationship, and anxiety making it a scary minefield to traverse if you wanna bring it up with said person. and don’t forget the awareness that the anxiety is making everything seem way worse than what it is, which Miles has and is so fed up by.
It all comes off as Miles eventually getting annoyed and tired of Gwen, which you know she did not take well. anyways…. throw all of this in with being a highschool student with a busy schedule and you’ve got miles’s main source of problems . too many friends and too many mental disorders and not enough time . i’m rereading this post and realizing none of it makes sense and kind of meandered .
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irregulrs · 1 year
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˙ ◌ ⁎˚ 〇﹒﹙johnny suh. cismale. he/him.﹚guess who was almost late for their shift at the vesper lounge again?? that’s right, it was baek eunwoo! it’s a wonder their job as owner of vesper lounge isn’t in jeopardy. the 26 year old has been working at sunset galleria for 3 ½ years, and is well known for their generous nature. on bad days, they can be rather self-critical, though. when the mall is dead at night, they can usually be found browsing vinyls at wangto records, but don’t tell their boss!﹙izzy, 28, she/her, gmt+2, none.﹚
hello meow meows ♡ you can call me izzy, i'm 28 (come on hags), operate on gmt+2 and i'm bringing u my cool chaos boy eunwoo (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ under the cut you can find some links, a summary of eunwoo and whatever random thoughts & tidbits about him are flying around in my head. i can't wait to write with you all !
click here for eunwoo's full profile
click here for eunwoo's full biography (it's a bit lengthy lmfao sorry)
pinterest board for all my visual besties out there
baek eunwoo, 26 turning 27, make some noise for scorpio babies!
daegu born & raised, owner of the vesper lounge
his parents poured all their savings into opening a family restaurant called two moons, it was their lifelong dream to have an establishment of their own
you know the food is dope when there’s a random child sleeping in the corner or playing mobile games at full volume? that was eunwoo lmao
he never quite understood why his parents were so strict with his older brother jinwoo regarding his education WELL 🤡
turns out there was only ever enough money to punch one kid thru medical school and of course it has to be the eldest son duh
meanwhile eunwoo got to have a pretty chill school time? noraebag after school with friends is x100 better than hakwon anyways
it was a little too late when he realized that he only got to play and have fun bc his parents had no intention of sending him to university
surprise! you get to help at the family restaurant awww congrats king &lt;3
he….really wanted to help his parents. he wanted for their dream to be successful. but not like this bruh 😭
he really struggled with accepting the fact that he was gonna rot away living someone else’s dream once his parents retire and leave the restaurant in his hands but ??? they are his parents ??? he couldn't say no rip
life comes at u fast and eunwoo realizes that when his parents pass away in a car accident and the care of the restaurant falls into his hands much, much earlier than he expected
well....... he cashes out his part of the house & land he inherited, sells the restaurant (his parents in heaven: say sike rn?!) and moves to a different part of daegu 🤣👍 talk about burning bridges that's that dawg scorpio in him
by now his brother is in seoul busy being a big shot anyway ugh so when eunwoo stumbles over the empty storefront in galleria sunset he pours his savings from the sales he made into opening the vesper lounge, finally something of his own awww look at him 🤕
truth be told he can't really tell if this is actually his dream or if he's just done this to be Doing Something but it's too late to make something different of life at this point right??? (he really needs someone to tell him that it isn't too late pleek)
i've got a bunch of plots right here but i'm always down to plot and brain storm!!
i love making my muses suffer a little lol and i love coming up with dynamics and past backgrounds to intertwine our muses so!!! i hope we can come up with something cool together hehe i'm excited (´。• ᵕ •。`) ♡
oh and if you find tumblr ims as obnoxious as me we can plot over discord ofc <3
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lesbianmaxevans · 2 years
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no but like the writers were SO careless with the throuple???? like the s1 finale had aki and audrey going thru all of that to show max how much he meant to them, and given their persistence in making their case that the three of them should try this, I was expecting s2 to like actually let us see them navigate this new dynamic. show us the domesticity, the fluff, and yes of course the challenges as well, but give us some fun! but we didn’t get that!
the writers only cared about what drama they could wring out of the dynamic. suddenly they can’t communicate at all and are constantly withholding their feelings from each other -- aki and audrey sabotaging max’s attempts to go public instead of telling him that it’s scary to be out; aki being nervous about bottoming (pls don’t get me started on how much I hate that the show was obsessed w the trio’s sex life........ I do not have the time for that on this post) and going to another student for tips, instead of being upfront w his partners; audrey assuming aki and max are going to abandon her and causing that whole scene before admitting her fears instead of just admitting how her issues with her parents are causing insecurity in their rship.
and then in episode 8 -- EPISODE 8 OF 10!!!! -- these writers decided to have audrey and max completely ignore aki’s film festival bc they were too busy with this stupid feud with julien. and then when aki is lamenting about feeling ignored, ingrid kissed him -- WHICH WHY THE HELL IS EVERYONE ON THE SHOW CALLING THAT CHEATING???? AKI DID NOT INITIATE AND HAD NO INTEREST IN INGRID MY GOD!! THAT’S NOT CHEATING!!!
but anyway aki is rightfully upset over the way audrey and max minimized this event for him and the narrative focuses on the fucking “cheating” aspect????? aki is never allowed to vocalize this feeling of being dismissed and sidelined??? and like my god the way these last three episodes made audrey look so bad, like her decision when learning about aki’s “indiscretion” is that she and aki should hide it from max?????? LIKE HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING FROM YOUR RELATIONSHIP WOES SO FAR??????
and all the stress about saying “I love you” was dumb bc -- AGAIN!! -- after everything aki and audrey did in 1x12, idg why they are having these issues. like yeah being startled by the abruptness is fair, but other than that it felt utterly nonsensical.
and then when max hears about aki cheating and audrey knowing and gets mad at them for always being a team and him being solo, he’s so right!!! like we even see it w the premiere w the two of them talking about stopping max’s plan for going public, like aki and audrey are constantly consulting each other w/o max’s input and it’s! so! shitty!
and like......... it’s just so fucked up that the season 2 finale’s thesis was literally the exact opposite of the season 1 finale thesis. in s1, aki and audrey were adamant that they don’t work as a couple anymore and their feelings for max are so strong and important to them. the season 2 thesis is that aki and audrey are an inseparable unit. like????????? aki and audrey were literally the ones that proposed “all for all or none for none” and then when max takes that seriously, aki and audrey are like “lol nah we still wanna be together”
like I do believe joshua when he says the throuple was meant to be endgame but with this utterly careless handling, it truly does not feel like it was worth it for the writers to go there at all. like god we got NOTHING in terms of them being domestic and having fun bc it was just nonstop drama and that’s when we actually got content of the three of them together.
also wow im sorry I hope this was coherent, I took medicine to soothe my very sore throat and it kicked in like halfway thru typing this up I feel v drowsy and my limbs are heavy I need to lie down bye
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missingn000 · 2 years
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HI IT’S ME AGAIN
Anyway!! to continue from my comment:
i have a huge weakness for descriptive writing and you nail (pun possibly intended, you’re welcome) it every single time with your delightful use of figurative language. something in particular that i found really interesting was the diction of injury in association with tokyo tower - it’s undoubtedly a sight nobara’s dreamt of seeing her whole life, but higuruma’s perception of the very same view is, by comparison, jarringly bleak.
okay wait i’m sorry for rambling about one (1) minute detail about what was probably meant to be a character study 💀 i love love LOVED the contrast between nobara’s hellbent insistence on self agency and yuuta’s hesitation to disobey getou’s will!! both of them want to be loved, which is of course normal for children (especially ones as criminally neglected as they are), but where yuuta embraces being saved, nobara is looking for something slightly… different. she’s never been a damsel in distress and never will be; instead she seeks “to be loved so much” that she’s “something to fight for.” absolutely banger line btw, it hit me right in the feels. IRONICALLY THOUGH higuruma has already done that!!! and intends to continue to do so!!! bc every interaction is a fight of some sort to win her approval! hell, their very first one was higuruma deciding that going against geto was worth it if it meant nobara lives to see another day, sooo……
“That’s none of your business” being the comeback Nobara defaults to is very intriguing considering… well… what the sheriff from her village said in response to Higuruma’s probing- “That’s our business.” seems like the village rubbed off on her a bit, huh. not to mention it feeds into her unyielding independence too: “it’s none of your business” -> “i can handle this on my own” -> proving both to herself and an invisible entity that she’s worth loving, goddammit
ok omg one last thing. dyou think the reason behind nobara’s decisiveness is the lack of stability (for the lack of a better term) in her life?? making her own decisions was the only way she could ever gain a modicum of control over her surroundings and that’s why she confuses support (which she never had to begin with, and would therefore be unable to recognise) for people trying to wrest her agency from her, which she would of course resist
I do apologise if literally none of this is correct because I don’t. actually know a lot abt Nobara and Higuruma’s characters or paid attention to them in canon until you worked your magic as usual LOL
Thanks for reading & have a good day!!
HI OH MY GOD I LOVE YOUR ANALYSES?? no need to apologize, they're right on the nose! with regards to yuuta and nobara, i really wanted to highlight the stark contrast between how they view getou and higuruma, respectively. to others in random chats, i've described it like this: nobara doesn't want to listen to anything her father figure says, while yuuta has a hard time doing anything but.
while yuuta and nobara were both shunned by others, they had completely different responses to it. nobara fought back against the villagers' judgmental words and isolated herself willingly, while yuuta is a people pleaser who just wants to be given love, no matter who it's from. and ahh you're right, higuruma is fighting for nobara -- she just can't see it, and he barely even realizes it himself. these two have such a long way to go
it's cool that you caught nobara's "that's none of your business" vs the sherrif's "that's our business" because it was totally intentional :D i think nobara's decisiveness does stem from a lack of stability, and a lack of overall control of her circumstances. since she's a child, she couldn't choose to just leave the village or take care of herself, so she clung to the little agency she did have and made snap decisions with little forethought, because too much rumination could lead to choices being made for her, which was not an option to her.
also you're making me ;__; i'm so honored reading my work has made you interested in these characters!! hyper-analyzing them made me more attached to them too lol
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lumen-tellus · 1 year
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i was tagged by: @asuraid owo i tag: ALL MY FWIENDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ww
OC TAG GAME
✨ favorite oc ✨
Maria i.e. Yulia!! (i am particularly biased to her bc i put my entire philosophy interest and quoiromantic sensibilities into her + my love for “characters who act completely the opposite of how they are internally” so she is. very beloved!!)
⏳ oldest oc ⏳
teeeechnically that would be Faite, a goddess i made up when i was like. ten or something. but i don’t use her for anything at this point. the next oldest oc - that i actually still think of every now and then - would be Angelica, my very no-nonsense anger and parent issues who i still associate with ice at the same time oc lol
❣️newest oc❣️
Daisy i.e. Yulia (a different Yulia), who is the (very deceased) bestie of the other Yulia’s mom!! (yes i know it’s convoluted but trust me it makes sense)
💥 meanest oc 💥
ppppprobably May? she definitely isn’t the kind of person who cares about what her words lead to so long as it isn’t indiscriminate murder. discriminate considerate murder tho is understandable, likely not likeable but understandable. she can give a pass potentially on that.
💘 softest oc 💘
Sylvia!! my baby little dooter sweetest child in the whole world who i make suffer a lot
☢️ most aloof/standoffish ☢️
Maria, when she’s being Yulia - though with her, it’s not quite being aloof and standoffish, more Yulia is just very, very objective and disaffected in behavior so she comes off to many, if not everyone, as rather cold and somewhat distant to people in general. she can certainly emote - purposefully or not - but it either takes a very strong instigation or it looks very painfully clear that it’s an act she’s putting on, no matter how “natural” she is.
🎉 dumbest oc 🎉
ok this is hard bc none of my ocs are dumb by any means - at minimum, average intelligence, and the rest are ridiculously smart like ranging between “i have a phd” to “im literally a prodigy” so udsusguydsguysd and even beyond that, i like to hc my ocs as being v smart in some other sense if it’s not an intellectual smartness - like being people-smart, business-smart, etc etc. mmmmmm i guess for this question tho id put Nemo i.e. Mnemosyne - a very dense young lady who by no means isn’t smart.............. but she’s definitely a bit of a cuckoolander, unfortunately.
✔️ smartest oc ✔️
................also Maria im sorry i DID make her the strategist for her friend group so i unfortunately also made her stupidly smart as a consequence rip
👼 ocs i’d be friends with 👼
mmmmmmmmmmmm maybe Shiva or Esmeralda? u can’t say that life-wizened older women wouldn’t be fun to be friends with lolololol also. compared to my other ocs those two are So Very Normal and for my own sanity id rather be friends with the normal guys over my deliberately nutcase or deliberately in need of a therapist ocs (which is most of them)
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tutuandscoot · 1 year
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What’s your take on the beginning of Stay? The part after they get up off the ice. Idk if I’m being dumb but I never got what’s really going on choreographically or what it’s supposed to represent starting at “all along it was a fever” and what Tessa is doing after, with her arms and the little jump she does before Scott skates back to her?
Hmmm…
Basic answer is I’m really not sure. I’ve watched it a few times trying to come up with an intention/meaning behind that specific bit of chore and I’m struggling to assign anything to it..
It could just be chore, I know they’ve said for some of their more nuanced competition programs there is no movement that doesn’t have meaning, but I certainly don’t think that’s the case with all their programs.
As for the song lyrics… I kind of relate the ‘all along there was a fever’ with like having a fever dream.. like something thats not real because you’re sick or not feeling your best so your brain tricks you into thinking something is actually happening/ tricks you into feeling things that aren’t completely accurate.
They said when asked about this program:
“It’s a story about two emotionally vulnerable and disturbed people who love each other but can’t get it to work, the underlying theme is longing to be together”, “our story relates directly to the lyrics, it’s more about the meaning than just skating”. x
So..
TAKE WITH THAT WHAT YOU WILL BC DAMN THATS PRETTY FKN BRUTALLY HONEST TO JUST COME OUT AND CASUALLY SAY..
My feeling with Stay is it’s very much an encapsulation of where they were at in their lives and journey together. Heading into what they thought was their last competitive season, tension in their coaching situation, wanting so desperately to win again and feeling they had a responsibly to, then mixed in with all that these two very sensitive humans with an enormous affection for each other and looking to the near future as for what will come of them- not just as an athletic partnership but as people.
I think you all know where I stand and I don’t take ‘being in love but missing each other and our story relating to that’ as necessary a romantic thing- but who knows, more than anything THAT IS NO ONES BUSINESS TO CRITICISE THEM OVER AND BLAME THEM FOR YOUR OWN NARROW MINDEDNESS, If anything it leads me to have enormous empathy for them and the position they YES, CHOSE to be in, but its clearly an incredibly complicated bond and relationship none the less. It could maybe be referring to them not gelling/being as close and on the same page, completely on an every fibre of their beings level that they wanted to be at that time and craved for so long to have that last, missing each other in that sense that they weren’t giving all of themselves to each other at the same time. I just feel so much for them in that respect and I’m not gonna let this get into a conversation over a romantic-type relationship bc… I’m just not, but jeez if after everything they had been through, all that time spent together, knowing each other better than anyone ever would, and still couldn’t feel… romantic feelings than that’s just some super complicated biology/psychology shit.
That said, AGAIN- whatever it was in Stay that they were specifically playing off, I love to think about them connecting to portraying romantic stories bc it is a kind of alternate universe for them.. and in dancing and skating to music they connect with they feel what they need (possibly want) to feel.. I really have no idea bc they are so freaking convincing and the most honest.. actors/dancers I have ever connected to, I believe their artistic selves whole heartedly but I also wholeheartedly believe them as people and the outpouring of love, care and respect they will always share no matter, or the lack of status bc it’s no one’s business.
There is so much more, not just in relation to this program but all of it, the whole 26 years and counting that we will never know because it was their own special story and world they created and they did share some of that with use through their dancing.. they are story tellers.
All this to say, I don’t have a specific interpretation for that moment..
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laurathebabex · 1 year
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To love and to lose (modern fic!)
Note from Lou: please do excuse any spelling mistakes, I can’t read English at times lmao and this is my first time writing on tumblr so please be nice❤️
Summary: Y/N is a very simple girl just wanting to get on with her normal day to day uni student life until she finds out that one of her lecture peers Aemond was mentally suffering, and through a harrowing loss the pair connect.
WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT :)
Warnings and TWs: angst, fear of loved one dying, ALS AWARENESS, funeral, dark themes
*note I don’t think I’ve missed any out but please do let me know if I have
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To the naked eye, it would seem that y/n was part of the furniture, a quiet, lonely girl who never bothered a soul sits at the back of the lecture theatre in her own world.
She was almost a star student, never missing a deadline and though her brains and humble nature were her most prominent attributes…she was drop dead gorgeous, with flaming locks of copper hair and eyes a misty blue she captured the hearts of many men including the lone wolf Aemond, he was one of the rarer types…more suited to Y/N than what she imagined but she never thought that he’d be hiding such a large burden on his broad shoulders.
The morning bell rang twice to indicate that it was time for you to head to your final lecture of the day, it was surprisingly busy for a Wednesday afternoon which meant that there wouldn’t be any decent seats available but luckily there was one good seat…right next to the absolutely dashing Aemond Targaryen the one with the most beautiful sapphire that would cut through your heart every time you saw it.
You were almost nervous when you say to him “Hi, is this seat taken?” To which he replies a simple “no” with an almost somber expression
This was odd behaviour from Aemond, you knew him fairly well and know that he wasn’t a chatty type an definitely not the type of guy that would flirt with you non stop all throughout the lecture but he’d normally be a little more…warm towards you, but today he just seemed off almost as if something had been bothering him.
The lecture finished sooner than expected and at 3 o’clock on the dot, Aemond gathered his things and sharply left the theatre which was definitely a cause for concern as usually despite his cold and icy appearance he was extremely nice and would do anything for you if you needed him and normally after a lecture he would sit and talk for a bit but but today he just left, not even a goodbye or any form of acknowledgment…just up and left.
Something is definitely wrong here, is he ok? I really hope he’s ok, did I offend him? I hope not.
So after the lecture you went on the hunt to find either Aegon, Helaena or Daeron (Aemonds siblings) to find out what is going on with Aemond, whilst on the look out for any of his siblings you ran into one of his philosophy professors Mr. Stark, you wasn’t overly keen on him as he seemed like he cared more about his paycheck than what he did his students and wether or not he made a difference to their lives, but you felt that he could possibly know where Aemond is and why he is acting this way, so you ask him:
“Professor Stark, i was wondering have you seen Aemond coming through here? He seems off and I’m worried about him” you ask knowing that Stark won’t give you a straight answer bc he is a straight up ass and he likes to be difficult but at your surprise he actually tells you
“Y/N, I know that you care very much for Aemond, but I think you need to stay out of it for your own good…he has a troubled home life but that’s none of your concern, he’ll figure it out soon enough” The coldness in Stark’s voice both enraged you and chilled you to your core because although you cared about Aemond, almost to the point of loving him, you needed to let him breathe because whatever he’s going through is his business and only his but at the same time you feel like he needs you as a shoulder to cry on and a confidant.
As you were walking away from Professor dickhead as many of the other students called him, you just so happen to run into Helaena, Aemond’s older sister and biology and ecology student, who of course is observing bugs on the campus grounds and mumbling to herself words that you cannot understand but through her incoherent mumbles you were able to make out
“Beneath the soil, a monster lingers”
Her words rang into your ears as clear as day, which made you realise that Aemond was not being strange…he was mourning a death but judging by the evident sternness of Helaena’s voice whilst mumbling “beneath the soil, a monster lingers” it seems that this person that he was grieving for wasn’t the hero of his life…but then again this was all an assumption, you couldn’t be sure until you heard it from the horses mouth so you continued to look for him all around the campus but as the typical uni day ended, you couldn’t find Aemond anywhere.
You got home fairly quick, quicker than normal actually rush hour was over so getting back to the comfort of home was easier than expected. Luckily for you your mom was out for the evening with her friends, so the kitchen was yours and you could do whatever you want for dinner…you normally preferred it this way as there was nobody in the house to boss you about and tell you how to do what you know best- cooking…it was a secret passion of yours, there were very few meals that you didn’t know how to cook, your favourite was spaghetti in a creamy pesto sauce, you knew this recipe like the back of your hand as according to your best friend Odette it’s one of the best things she’s eaten…you’ve always taken those type of comments to the centre of your heart as it feels lovely knowing that someone loves your cooking as much as you do.
During your usual cooking routine you find that you don’t actually have any pesto, one of the key ingredients of your famous recipe so much to your dismay you have to go to your nearest store to go get some. It’s not a far walk to the store but it’s enough to make you rethink your life choices.
During the trek to the store which felt like a lifetime away, you see a rather familiar looking motorcycle, black with a blue sheen to it, you’ve seen it before but don’t quite know where. With the store finally in sight, you walking speed increases and just as you walk into the store you hear a very familiar voice…it’s him…Aemond still looking as somber as he was in the lecture theatre. You thought about going over to talk to him but what could you say? He looks extremely sad…bless his soul.
You felt extremely bad for him, he looks like he’s going through something you can’t even imagine, you decide to go over and talk to him he seemed to be alone. You decided that in his best interest that you weren’t going to listen to Stark’s advice, I mean what does he know
“Aemond?” You said softly, whilst lightly tapping his arm “Are you ok, I noticed that you seem a little off”
He quickly turned and looked at you, the blue sapphire in the place of his right eye seemed darker than usual almost as if it reacts to his feelings
“Y/N? What luck that you’d be here, I can’t tell you what’s going on right now, it’s…tough” Aemonds voice seemed to crack after he told you that he can’t talk about it right now and as he turned away from you to walk away you grabbed his arm gently and said
“if you need to talk to anyone, please keep me in mind…loss is tough, I get that wholeheartedly but no one should go through it alone because you’ll make yourself ill”
“I wish I was the ill one-“ Aemond interrupted through a choked up voice. “I really can’t talk about it right now, if your available later tonight…we can talk about it then, I’ll ask Helaena for your number so you can give me the address”
Just as you was about to tell him your address, Aemond strode off in his usual fashion towards the checkout line, leaving you both sad and intensely interested in what was so intensely bothering him, later tonight couldn’t come faster.
You got what you needed from the store including some snacks because why not and you headed back to your apartment. As you were walking back from the store, the words “I wish I was the ill one” kept repeating in your head like a broken record, wondering what he meant by that, could it be that a close relative or one of his siblings were very ill? You truly had no idea, Aemond was very skilled in keeping himself to himself he never let anything bother him, or so you thought
Later on in the evening as you expected a phone call came through from Helaenas number, you loudly gulped down your hot chocolate as you waited for Aemonds arrival, you appeared to live not to far away from Aemond so as soon as he put the phone down, you were expecting a fast arrival from him.
About 15mins later, a loud ring was heard from throughout you apartment’s intercom system…it was him, still with the same somber look on his face as you saw him a few hours prior, you buzz him in and as you could hear his footsteps approaching the door, your heart thumped in your chest…as you opened the door he let down his hood and the blue sapphire lit up the room, as it normally did. Aemond strode through the hallway as you directed him into the lounge
“You’ve got a nice place here Y/N, much more…homely looking than my own place” Aemond said with a twitch of his upper lip, somewhat resembling a smile…the first you’ve seen since 2 days ago.
“I tried my best with the decor, I’m more of a…plain person if you will” you let out with a small laugh, the more you spoke to Aemond the more comfortable he seemed.
“Whenever your ready Aemond, please do tell me what’s going on…it’s utterly heartbreaking seeing you so sad” your comforting and warm voice seemed to coax Aemond into expressing himself, in a way that he hasn’t been able to do in some time.
“I’ve been going through it if I’m completely honest with you Y/N, about a week ago my mother fell ill…she’s normally fit and healthy but as of late she’s been finding herself having swallowing difficulties, she’s weak, she slurs her words…I decided to call the doctors a few weeks back and explained to her the situation and she told me that the answer probably wasn’t what I wanted to hear but she wants to run some tests…yesterday evening she called me and told me that her suspicions were right and that she had ALS…i don’t really know how to cope Y/N, just the thought of losing her haunts my dreams at night”
————————————————HI, JUST BEFORE YOU GO AHEAD AND READ THE REST if your affected by the events happening in this fic please don’t hesitate to contact me at my Twitter: @louvuvv, if you ever want a conversation about anything that’s bothering you, please don’t hesitate to get in touch, Lots of love🩷 *also if you would like more information and details about ALS please follow this link and if you’d like to donate to the ALS association please follow this link————————————————
Your eyes widened and couldn’t stop yourself from becoming emotional, you couldn’t quite believe it…how awful, just the thought of losing your mom was harrowing let alone actually losing your mom slowly.
With teary eyes you comforted Aemond and said “Oh Aemond, I don’t know what to say…I’m so sorry, now that you’ve told me we can work together so I can support you through this as much as I can”
As the days and weeks pass, Aemond slowly started to become more comfortable with sharing his thoughts and feelings with you and the deep connection became apparent to you both. But sadly as he got more confident speaking about his worries with you, his poor mother worsened, and the more Aemond saw her…the more frail and fragile she looked. By the time that Aemond turned 23 his mother’s condition had completely deteriorated to the point that you barely saw the Targaryen children around the small town you lived in.
On one dull gloomy day, the time came…the time that was inevitable to avoid, you passed the Targaryen household to give Helaena back her watch that you borrowed and all curtains, blinds and shutters were closed…Aemond’s mother had sadly passed away.
The church bells echoed throughout the town to mark the saddest death all year, everyone was super close with Aemond’s mother she was a staple council member…she was always the one that would organise all the summer fetes, Christmas markets and charity events…but now the village got so much quieter as her death was felt in everyone.
Summer passed with no summer fete, no markets were put up this year all notable charity events never happened and Christmas was just another day on the calendar. Her funeral was held on a solemn Friday, no laughter was to be heard and no joy to be felt, but in her wake the sun shone through the thick grey clouds signalling a new and brighter day was about to begin.
Two days after her funeral, things started to slowly go back to normal, small businesses started to reopen and the streets became busier. In memory of Aemond’s mother, you decided to throw a charity fete just how she would with all the bells and whistles…but this time instead of Cancer Research, you decided to host the fete for the ALS association…it seemed appropriate in light of the recent events…and to make sure that no expense was spared, all of the Targaryen children chipped in and gave their fair share of work. The planning of the charity fete went surprisingly smoothly, no problems seemed to arise from your point of view, everything fell into place as it should so that everything was perfect.
Two hours prior to the fete, you were setting out the final preparations and out of nowhere you were approached by a grief stricken Aemond
“You’ve done amazingly well with this charity event Y/N, I don’t think I could thank you enough for all your hard work to keep my mothers memory alive without even knowing her personally” despite his grief and sadness being evident in his voice, he seemed to have a glimmer in his eye signalling to you that despite his grief and his worst fears coming true…he still has hope that someone in his life could make him happy once again, you responded to him with a hug…the first hug he’s accepted and embraced since the worst day of his lifetime and despite Aemond not giving any form of emotion away, you felt something…as his true Targaryen nose buried into your soft skin you thought, could it be a spark between you and him?
The fete was amazing, a true representation of how brilliant and true his mother was and much to your surprise you raised £5,495 for the ALS association, such a grand amount which made you extremely proud to be part of such a loving community.
As the final cheque was sent of to the charity, you felt a hand placed lightly on your shoulder…it was Aemond once again but this time he returned with a big bunch of flowers, blue flowers at that.
“Thank you once again for your efforts Y/N, you’ll never know how much this means to me” and before you could respond he pulled you into a kiss, so deep that you could feel all the pain from his body slip away.
“I’ve been meaning to do that for quite some time, your a rare one Y/N and nothing would make me happier than to be yours” he said gazing right into your misty blue eyes, you knew now that this was the spark you were looking for…you’ve never been truly honest with yourself up until now, you’ve loved Aemond for a very very long time but you’ve always been to much of a chicken to admit it so when you saw him completely unfold his feelings to you on that day and when he thanked you for your charitable efforts, you just knew that you loved him.
One hundred percent sure.
“Nothing would make me happier for you to be mine Aemond truly, but first we should give these flowers to someone that i feel deserves them the most” you said holding up the beautiful bunch of flowers to your small aquiline nose.
You walked away from the post box both Aemond and flowers in hand and walked over to the cemetery where his mother was buried…you and Aemond went to go find her plot and the both of you, hands intertwined laid the flowers down in front of her marble headstone.
As the flowers were laid down in front of her name, a blue butterfly flew down and settled on both of your interlocked hands
It must’ve been her.
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A message from Lou:
Hi again! Thank you for reading my fic🩷it was a sad one huh? As I said above in the intermission, if your affected by any of the events in this fic please do get in contact via my twitter account @Louvuvv
I’ll see you soon with a spicy fic! Take care xx
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