#and like... yeah i understand that viewpoint but ALSO

[queenofmalkier]

I just have to say, there's constructive discussion about what the show isn't getting right and then there's attacking people who are still enjoying it for what it is, more or less labeling them as bad fans or not "true" fans.

(And then getting mad when people call out what you're doing.)

[itspileofgoodthings]

me to Nina yesterday: explaining how due to a headache and exhaustion I wasted away the end of my afternoon just watching Ryan Gosling interviews

Nina, instantly sympathetic: and I completely understand that, a valid thing to do

[undertalethingems]

How do you think Sans reacts to Papyrus’s death during the runs?

If you mean in the base game, uh... we kinda already know? If Papyrus is killed, Sans doesn't show up again until the final corridor, where he'll ask "if you have some sort of special power, isn't it your responsibility to do the right thing?"

If you answer yes (that you do have that responsibility), then he responds, without eyelights or sound font, "Then why'd you kill my brother?"

And if you answer no (you aren't responsible), you get "well, that's your viewpoint. i won't judge you for it.... You dirty brother killer."

There's also the line of description you get if you go on to have a concert with Shyren after killing Papyrus: "A hooded figure watches the commotion from afar." It replaces the line that mentions Sans selling toilet paper tickets to your concert, and of course, of all the characters with hoods in the game, he's the one who would be most concerned with tracking your actions after killing Papyrus. So, it makes the most sense to infer that this hooded figure is Sans.

So his reactions, to me at least, suggest that not only is he heartbroken, he's furious with you. But Sans isn't one for direct confrontations and shouting like Undyne is, so he watches, and I think he still tries to understand why you'd do something so horrible. But that doesn't stop him from being angry because there's no excuse for killing his brother, but sparing other monsters, that he can fathom.

I'm personally not a fan of depictions of Sans sobbing over Papyrus' dusty scarf--he just doesn't strike me as a guy whose first reaction is to cry. For my understanding of him, it makes more sense for him to go numb, initially, then save his anger for his parting shot in the last corridor. No matter what you answer, Sans gets the last word in, and it's always to remind you that you did not have to kill his brother.

So uh, yeah. that's what I think.

[venmondiese]

SOMETHIN' STUPID

-ˋˏ| summary: You have the biggest crush on Martin, and yet you have to watch how he falls for another girl. Even if it breaks your heart, you wish to be on his life rather than be nothing at all.

✧ | Pairing: Martin4Spider (It's Amazing to be Young) & Reader

✧ | word count: 5.1k

✧ | Warnings: Angst. Hurt/no comfort.

✧ | notes: baby's first angst omgg... anyways, i LOVE martin4spider but i also love angst and suffering and pain.

⋅˚₊‧ Based on Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra and I love you, I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams ‧₊˚ ⋅

You waited in the car, most of the time you did. 

The night was quiet and Martin was taking an awful long time to buy the medicine for his wounds. You never complained, though, you liked being around him. He was different from most men you knew, interested in sex and leaving their lives as if it was their last day on earth. 

Martin was a great guy, you two met thanks to college, and you liked to think that two outcasts could understand each other perfectly fine. He dropped college after the first semester, but it didn’t stop you from hanging out with him. You texted him, and he’d pick you up with his car, buy some snacks and go to a city viewpoint to hang there. 

Martin was, probably, your dearest friend. He was not judgemental, he could hear and he always gave you those fraternal hugs, his arm on your shoulders as he squeezed you close to him. 

Even if he was bruised, you took the time to clean his wounds, disinfect them and heal them. You never complained or judged him. You’d often keep your thoughts to yourself, about how he was hurting his body to feel something. 

“You got it?” You ask when he gets into the car, and he has a wide smile on his face. 

“I met someone” he says softly, as if amazed by it. 

“Oh?”

You look at him, your heart clenching on your chest as if it would explode. It was no secret to anyone how head over heels you were for Martin, even if he was clueless about it. You were too afraid to mess it up; he was your friend, and you could live with not being his girlfriend, but not being friends… frightened you. 

You tried pathetic attempts of flirting, sometimes getting drunk so he could pick you up and take care of you, even if it was a lie, you did it as if trying to heal something in you. You didn’t know if he was clueless, or if he knew and ignored the fact. 

“Yeah, I even got her number… She’s… beautiful” 

You look at him, as you try to look inside the drug store. “You always have girls fawning over you and your bad boy look” you tease him. 

“Heh, I know, but this is… different” he says smiling, and finally he turns to see you. His black eyes, well, still red from the recent punches, find yours with certainty as you realize something, this was different. He has that glint that he had never had with you, or any other girl he was fooling around. 

“Okay, Romeo” you say smiling, as he rolls his eyes amused, with a smirk. 

“Romeo?” He asks, chuckling as he starts the car engine. “You are so weird sometimes” he says amused, and you smile softly. 

As he starts to drive away, you can see the feminine figure from inside the drug store, seeing him from the glass. Your heart ached, watching her and then Martin. This certainly would last only some weeks, like all the flings he had before. No girl can resist a bad boy facade, not even you. But, only a few girls know how to appreciate a man like Martin. 

You had forgotten about it after some days. You certainly had more things to your plate, some college stuff, and things at home. Well, that was a lie. You had thought about it, but you tried to push it away from your head, because nothing ever comes up when Martin meets a girl. He’d fool around, and then be all on his own again. 

It was a normalcy bias, as you were sure this wouldn’t last. 

“Your room is cleaner, but still a mess” You say disapprovingly, as you pick his dirty laundry, and he groans.

“Come on…” he said, laying shirtless on his bed. “I cleaned it, though”

You raise your eyebrows with a smile, and you leave the dirty clothes in the basket. You sit on the edge of bed, looking at him.

“To what we owe this miracle?” you ask, looking at him, and he chuckles, a bit shyly as he looks away. 

“Spider was here yesterday” he says softly. 

You are in silence for a few moments, as if trying to understand what he meant. 

“Spider? I don’t think a spider cares…”

“Not the spider.” He cuts you, looking at you. “The girl I met. Her name is Jennifer, but she prefers to be called Spider”

You blink softly, your insides turning around in a horrible feeling as you take in the information. A girl, this Jennifer-Spider, in his room. He never told you about the girls he brings here either, and so your stomach feels as if it had been punched.

“She was here”

“Yes” he says simply.

“Wait, Spider? Why would she prefer...” you ask curiously.

“She just does.” he says simply, but you can sense the defensiveness in his tone, as if he didn’t like you questioning her motives.

You blink, your mouth turns slightly downwards as you feel it trembling slightly. 

“Okay” you say simply, as if trying to soothe the conversation. 

“She’s just… different. She’s special, she gets me” He says as he just watches the ceiling, he has a slight smile on his lips when talking about her, and you wondered if this is how you looked when talking about him. “She is weird. She is so fucking weird, like me…”

The chuckle on his tone, how dreamily he says it, it is almost enough to make you cry. But you don’t, you stay there, thinking what to say. What to do. What can you even do? You can’t try to sabotage them, it would be cruel… and you aren’t like that, you couldn’t live with that. 

“Come on, say something” he says after a while, and you haven’t noticed how quiet you have been.

“That sounds great” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “She sounds great” you correct yourself, and Martin nods, not fully taking in your expression. You still hoped that this would go away. That everything will be like it was before.

Jennifer, or Spider, as Martin calls her, was more present in your life than ever. She had some strange aura around her, always somewhat quiet but she was almost glued to Martin, and he to her. 

The more the weeks passed, the less you saw him. Sure, you were busy with college, trying to finish some essays that were due close, but you missed him. You always tried to catch him, sometimes he would pick you up after classes, or at your home. Everytime you hoped to see him again, to see his rusty car outside and him waiting for you with his half smirk and bruises on his face. 

But you haven’t seen him, not much. He took forever to answer your texts, and you couldn't help but feel that you were losing him. It felt horrible, because you felt so selfish, you wanted him back. You didn’t want him with this girl, but again, who were you to keep him down? To force him to stay by your side? It wasn’t you to do something like that. 

Usually, you’d meet on friday, since it was a day that both of you agreed that was easy to meet, and you’d do the usual, go to the viewpoint and chat there. You liked hanging around Martin, because you didn’t have to speak, or do anything. 

After he doesn’t text you back, and seeing the time, you tried calling. You hated calling, because it was awfully awkward, but this was a bit more desperate. 

“Hi?”

You freeze at the sound of a feminine tone.

“Hi…” You are a bit surprised, as you curse inside your brain. Fuck, fuck, fuck… “Is Martin there?”

You could feel your heart being squeezed on your inside, as you tried to breathe calmly. 

“Yes, he is here. Who’s this?”

“I am his friend…” you tell her your name, and she doesn’t seem to recall. “You must be…” Jennifer, spider? What should you call her? You try to decide, but you just leave it hanging there.

“I am Spider, his girlfriend” she says softly. 

“I see. Yeah, just… tell him to text me back later” you say trying to sound normal, as you just end up the call abruptly. You see the words call ended and then your screen turns black, and you can see your horrified face reflected on it. 

You were never nothing with Martin, damn, you never even kissed, or held hands. You were just friends, and it hurts more than anything to know he is in love, having a proper girlfriend. You were all for guys who were loyal to their girlfriends above all, but you never thought you’d be at the other end, the dumped friend. You always pictured yourself as the one he’ll be devoted to, not otherwise. 

You cry, as your eyes were so watery you couldn’t keep them open. It was silly, because you aren’t the first nor the last woman to suffer from a heartbreak, of secretly yearning for him, for his embraces, his kisses, and his affections. 

You’ve played all your cards with him, being everything he wants and needs, to no avail. What does she have? Why is she so special? He had met her for maybe more than one month, and you know him from much more.  

You cannot see them together, you cannot bear the thought of seeing them together. The first time he picked you up, it took you by surprise. He always joked that he was your uber, since you couldn’t drive, no matter how much he teaches you. He waits for you outside the car, arms crossed and his usual clothes.

“Oh, hi…” you say as you walk closer to the car, and see that inside the car there was a girl. He never brought girls around you, he talked about them casually, but this was.. different. 

And it hits you just now how serious he is about it. If you tried to think that this won’t last, this was like a cold water bucket being thrown at you with the reality of it all.

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asks, murmuring in your ear as he opens the door for you. 

You look at him, big eyes and confusing feelings. It feels like an ambush, in a way, as you were not ready to encounter her… and him together. 

“It would have been nice to be notified” you murmur to him, the slight annoyance on your tone.

“Sorry” he says, giving you a half crooked smile, yet sympathetic to it all. 

You sit in the backseat, and she turns to see you. 

“Hi” she says softly.

“Hi”

Fuck, she was gorgeous.  

You smile weakly as you put on your seatbelt, and you watch through the window. 

“We came back from the forest, that’s why we are so….”

“Rusty?” Spider says back to him, with a lovesick smile, that Martin returns.

“Yeah” Martin says as he leans to kiss her cheek, and you try to look away. 

“Cool” you try to sound cheerful. 

You really wanted to be supportive, you really did. You wished you could be happy for him, he seems… happier. She makes him happier.

Which definitely was killing you, because no amount of time with you made him as happier as she did. But it was better to be his friend, than nothing. It would kill you to be nothing, even if it meant seeing Martin happy with her. 

“So… you going with friends?” She asks curiously.

“Oh, yeah, my friends… they live closer to Martin, so…” you say shrugging, a bit awkwardly. 

“That’s neat” she says softly, nodding. “You are nice for driving your friends” she says softly, leaning to give Martin’s cheek a kiss, to which he certainly enjoys.

You can help but feel sick. You hated it, seeing him so in love with someone else. You had hoped that, with time, he would look at you like that. Hold you gently, and talk to you the way he does with Spider. 

“You have a boyfriend?” she asks, eyes wide as she turns to see you and chat.

“...no” you say almost bitterly. 

She nods softly, and Martin says.

“When you get one, we should do things, like the four of us. That’s still a thing?” 

“I think so,” Spider says naturally to him. “They can carve their names alongside ours” 

“Oh? How so?” You ask, frowning slightly as they speak so nonchalant about this. 

“We carved our names into a tree” Martin says almost too proudly. 

You feel your eyes too dry all of the sudden, and the back of your head, just behind your ears, hurts slightly. He sounds more than proud, he seems… in love. He was in love. 

“I am not… into anybody these days” You lie, your voice a bit shaky as you feel your blood running almost coldly into your limbs. You pinch the skin of the back of your hand, as if trying to soothe yourself, or to wake you up from this nightmare. 

Spider has those deep eyes that stare at you. She doesn’t say much, just watching you closely. Since she was in the copilot seat, she turned to see you. You squirm slightly uncomfortable, as if she could read your thoughts. Could she possibly know that you fancy her boyfriend? Could she know how much you envy her? How much you would give, how much you wish, how much you crave to be her?

You don’t know anything about her. Martin doesn’t particularly go off about her life the occasions he is with you. These days, they are almost glued together, doing everything together. You know it, and it didn’t bother you if Martin was just a friend. But he wasn’t just a friend to you, he wasn’t just a guy. 

You look at her and she at you, and you can’t deny how pretty she was. She had soft features, and you couldn’t help but remember Martin by the way her expression changes. It’s as if he’s all over her. 

You turn to look out the window, as if trying to ignore Spider’s eyes on you. What if she sees you cry? She doesn’t look scary, you’d probably have a fair fight if it came to it. But you aren’t that type of girl. And she was so pretty, you don’t want to ruin her beautiful face,

“I don’t have friends to introduce you to” she says softly, after a thought. Her tone is calm, and you turn to see her. Martin has his hand intertwined with hers, as if he couldn’t be without touching her. 

“It’s okay, you are so very kind”

“Do you?” She turns to Martin, quietly, and he shakes his head.

“Nope.”

“Well, if you-”

“It’s truly okay, I do not mind it.” you cut the quick chat. “Martin, leave me at the intersection” you say, grabbing your purse from the floor. The lipstick has fallen, and rolled under Martin’s driving seat. Spider leans closer to the back to search for it with her eyes as if to help you locate it.

“I can really drive you to there”

“It’s okay” you say exasperated, extending your hand to grab your lipstick, but between the metal you fear that your hand will be stuck. 

“Do you want help?” She asks, leaning curiously.

“No, it’s fine”

“Truly, I can drive you to your friend’s house, it’s on our way and I don’t mind”

You feel the lipstick with the tip of your fingers, you try to roll it closer to you, but it doesn’t work. It is stuck between some metals, and you lean closer to grab it, without really thinking how you will get your hand out. 

“Do you need light?” She asks turning on the backseat lights for you to see, but it only serves as a small blindment to you. 

“I can’t leave you here, it is too dark and…” Martin starts rambling off as he drives.

“You will hurt yourself if you do it blindly,” Spider says, trying to help.

“You asked me to do this…”

“For God’s sake, just drop me off here” You say a bit too loud, overwhelmed and just… exploded. You give up on the bloody lipstick, and anyways, it was almost empty. 

You take off your seatbelt, and you get off the car, seeing the couple inside as you close the door, and you just walk behind the car, not minding this isn’t a pedestrian crossing, and probably any car that crosses there, will mostly make you at danger of being rolled over.

You just walk crying, pathetically and recklessly walking in the dark streets, holding your purse with your hand, not minding how it drags on the pavement. You always asked for a ride because walking exposed you to avoidable danger, but in truth… You prefer it over seeing how Martin was head over heels for another woman. 

And the worst is that you can’t even hate her. She doesn’t know about your feelings about him, fuck, he doesn’t even know. And even so, he was not in any way with you, so he didn’t owe you anything. She didn't do anything wrong about it, she didn’t steal your man, she didn’t keep him from you, she wasn’t jealous or condescending to you, she was… she was good. She was nice, and obviously very weird, but it only seems to fit with Martin. 

You sit on a bench, in the middle of the street with a flickering light. Your makeup was probably ruined, by how you have rubbed your tears off your eyes, and the worst part? You also lost your lipstick.

And probably she’d keep your lipstick as well. You cried harder at that. How could she? She would keep everything you wanted, and you felt hopeless. 

You have that tendency. Your friend had said that you always subconsciously choose something unreachable, as if self sabotaging yourself. It was true, in a way, you had always been one for yearning in a distance, and never acted on your feelings. It won't either be the first time you have felt these emotions, but the other guys were crushes, too far away from your reach. But Martin? You were so close.

Was it so wrong to feel so much?

The next couple days you feel miserable, but again, not contacting him was better, at least for now. You truly wanted to get rid of your feelings, to just feel platonic love for him. To be happy for his relationship, to be glad he found someone who complements him so well. 

Maybe getting the ick would make it easier, but you knew Martin, and nothing that he did was horrible in your eyes. You cured his wounds, no matter how bloody or swollen they were. Never complained, and had a tender hand to cure it. It also helped with the proximity, and you enjoyed every second of it. 

You don’t reach to him, too afraid to have messed it up. He texts you once or twice, but again, he never was one to be really into his phone. You were rude, and you were ashamed of it, of making it about yourself and your feelings. It was a bit selfish, but they were your genuine feelings. 

Instead, he reaches to you after a while. His texts aren't usually long or descriptive,

i am in the usual spot.  can i see u?

Against your better judgement, and ignoring your mixed feelings, you take the bus, and walk to the parking lot where he usually did his car jujutsu stuff. The ‘usual spot’ always meant that, the place where he felt things in his flesh, as if he was self flagellating himself. 

You find him, by his car, sitting with a whiskey at hand. He looked even worse as if he would when fighting, and he was drunk. You could see it in his movements.

“Hi, you” you say, slightly glad he called you. “Another lost fight?” You ask amused, kneeling to help him to get up, and he grumbles.

“No…”

“Look, I wanted to apologise...” You start, as his hand was around his shoulders and your hand gripped his torso to help him up. He was bigger than you, and also heavier. You take the chance to apologise, to make things right, hoping he would forgive you. You are always sincere in your apologies, and even if your heart is happy to see him, you have to set things right “Because the last time, I was…”

“She left” He cuts you off. 

You freeze for a moment, surprised. It’s as if a weight was lifted from your shoulders, as if a cold breeze came. You look at him, not even realising how you didn’t finish your apology.

“What?”

He doesn’t answer, too drunk and trying not to fall as he grips your shoulder tightly. 

“When did she leave you?” You ask, surprised. You don’t want to say you feel glad, because you don’t. You didn't even know what you felt.

“She didn’t leave me. She left… the place. Her mum sent her off…”

You think for a few moments. You bite your lip, as you try to cheer him up. You still fancied him, and you knew you had to keep your distance, for everyone’s  well being, but he was hurting. He was your Martin still, somehow. 

“You want to go to our place?” You ask softly, looking at him. “I’ll drive”

He’d usually stop you, he’d raise the keys with his hand and make you jump to get them, and he never trusted you to drive so carefree when you had no idea of traffic signs. 

Instead, he handles you the keys as he opens the backseat and leans on it. 

You might even get your lipstick back. 

You drive carefully, even if at this time of the night almost everything is quite dead, even when the car ride up to the viewpoint is quite hard to you, you do it, and even manage to park in a great spot. After you use the hand brake, you turn off the engine. 

“Tell me you didn’t die back there”

“No” he murmurs bitterly.

“You threw up?”

“No”

“Good” you say, as you help him out of the car, pulling him to take some fresh air, and maybe the city lights could provide some comfort. You see the spot where your lipstick was left, and you decide to get it later. There was a lot of time now. 

You two settle in the car hood, laying on the glass as you sigh. 

“The night is nice” you say softly, looking at the sky, trying to break off the awkward silence. You turn your head to look at him, all puppy-like. It almost clenches your heart to see him like this. “Wanna talk about it?”

He lays on the window for some moments. 

“I loved her” it’s the first thing he says, totally heartbroken. 

“I…” you say, not sure what to say. I could see it. I know. She seems like she loves you too. I love you as well. 

“She didn’t want to leave” he keeps on going. “She… we didn’t fit, okay. But we do fit together” he murmurs, his words blurry as he is drunk and just rambling. 

“Then why did she?”

“Her mum” He says simply, looking at the sky. 

“She didn't… approve?”

“Ha, you bet” he says in a chuckle. “We were in her room, hanging out, we were… making out and her mum just got inside and kicked me out” he says leaning back, as he recalls the scene. “Tried to be polite and all, I wanted to be polite, y’know. Maybe lose the damn piercing when doing so and…”

He lays for some moments on the window, his jacket a bit too uncomfortable to do so. 

“She sent her off. Saying she was a disgrace.”

You nod softly, as you hear him. You thought you’d feel good about it, but.. you don’t. 

“Her mum hated me. She didn’t even.. know me, and I really… Me and Spider understood each other”

“To be fair, my mum doesn’t like you either” you try to cheer him up. 

“Well, I do not care what your fucking mum thinks of me. It’s not the same” he cuts you with his tone rough. “It’s not like that. She doesn’t send you away because of it.”

You bite your tongue as you watch your hands. You didn’t mean it like that, you guessed. You didn’t think too much about it,  never did around him. 

“Sorry." He says after a while. "She left. I couldn’t even say goodbye, I was too much of a coward not to go back”

You can hear the hurt in his tone, as he moves a hand to pass it on his face. He is bitter, he is confused. 

“I’m sorry too” you murmur, as your eyes are teary. “To be fair… she was nice. She seemed nice and she made you happy”

“How can I even… go on…” Martin says, rambling off.  He lights up a cigarette, as he sighs.

You two are quiet for a while as the night was awfully dead. How could you try to comfort him? You can still feel your heart long for him, even when it was already broken. Even when it was rejected, how pathetic can it get? Going back to him, hoping for him to notice you? 

The muscles of your cheek feel heavy as you hold tears, and your lips turn down on that horrible expression you hate. You rub your forehead, as if trying to relax.

“When was the last time we came here?” He asks softly, as his head turns to look at the starlights. He takes a drag and smokes blows out of his mouth.

You think for a few moments, and shake your head.

“I don’t really remember.”

He had discovered this place, and he picked you up to show it to you. Nothing fancy, but something unique. You usually bought the snacks, and he drove. 

Had he brought her too, you wondered? The tree where they carved their names was near? Had they made out in the car as well?

“I am not that drunk, you know” he says after he chuckles, as he takes the last smoke out of the cigarette, before pressing the cigarette down on his palm. “I am just…”

“... Heartbroken” you say for him. It isn’t as if you didn’t understand the feeling. How were you supposed to comfort him when you felt the same? You couldn’t even show it, or tell him about it. 

“I am taking care of her lizard.” he says after a while. You can smell the faint scent of his cheap cologne, the faint smell of liquor and the strong scent of cigarette, and you feel somewhat stupid “And I got an spider too, obviously…”

“I love you” 

Your words come spilling out of your mouth, you do not even think about saying them outloud. He never knew how much you liked him. He’d never choose you over her, and you aren’t even asking him to do so. You know he won’t. 

“I’m sorry” you add quickly, cursing yourself. It was the truth, was it wrong to say it? You can’t think of an answer, because it was done.

He doesn’t say anything, as he turns his head to see the sky as well. 

Perhaps you had been settling the nails for your own coffin, doing this. Being around him, as if nothing was happening. 

“This isn’t about you” Martin murmurs bitterly.

“I am sorry I am not her” 

“I do not want to hear about it.”

“I love you, I am sorry” You say, as you start crying, you couldn’t even fight for your feelings without crying. 

“I don’t… What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know” you cry out, as you press the heel of your hand against your eyes, almost too hard as if to dry tears out. “I am sorry, I am sorry, don’t hate me”

“Why would you tell me this kind of shit?” He asks frustrated, as he sits up straight. You shake your head, as you try to keep your tears from coming out. 

“It’s stupid, I was stupid, I am sorry!”

“Were you always like this?”

“I said I am sorry” you begged him, shaking your head.

“You know I don’t love you back. I can’t love anyone but Spider”

“I know you love her, okay, I know!” You say exasperated, as you feel frustrated as well. You had no reason to, but it wasn’t as if you could rationalize your feelings in the moment. “And I know I am not her”

You always thought love didn’t make you stupid. It was kind of weird to think about it, how could people do stupid things? How could people forgive cheating, have a blind eye when it came to crimes or stay when it hurted their mental health?

“Martin, please… I didn’t mean to” you say as he gets off the car hood, and you slide to follow him. “I won’t say it again”

“I don’t want you around”

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t… I never meant ill on you, or her… she is so nice… and she makes you happy…”

“Don’t talk about her” he says opening the copilot door to hand you your jacket, and your purse.

“Hear me out” You cry out trying to take his wrist to hold him back, begging him to hear you. 

He shakes your grip, as he looks at you with… disappointment? You don’t want to decipher his expression. 

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to” you repeat again. “I can't lose you, Martin. I can't... Please”

“Don’t” he says as he walks over to the driver seat. “Just… don’t”

The least of your worries is how you are going back home, or how you will freeze to death. Damn, you barely remember your forgotten lipstick.

You know that it was a massive screw up. But it felt right to say it in the moment, and were words you truly meant, with all your heart. And he was rightfully mad, you also understood that.

But again, you aren’t truly thinking. It’s as if the muscle that beats in your chest has truly taken over you, making rash decisions in your careful life. You had never confessed to anyone, you never said your true feelings, and you never ever would risk a friendship as valuable as the one with Martin. 

But you love him. You love him so much, it hurts, it makes you sob uncontrollably in the middle of the viewpoint, as your jacket and purse fall from your grip and fall on the pavement. You wished you could be like her, and make him happy. You wish he’d let you into his world, into his heart. At the same time, you wish he could get back at her, and be happy once again. She wasn’t a bad girlfriend as much as you would like, she was actually great, and nice. 

Perhaps it was indeed selfish, you had spoiled all by saying those three words. But deep in your heart, you know it was true. 

[narutoandanimearemyheart]

RIVALS TO LOVERS! RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS WITH NEJI HYUGA

The reader and Neji most likely met in the Academy when they were both young. Neji was a prodigy of course and excelled in everything. Especially Taijutsu.

However there was another person in his class that had extremely advanced skills in Taijutsu, his only match. You.

The two of you would often get partnered up during spar sessions in the class, and would often come in very close ties which infuriated Neji to no end.

He did not like this at all. He was determined to be the top of the class, and would train extra hard when he got home to secure that spot. He would not be average, nor beaten by some shinobi from some average background, not at all.

He had an intense dislike for you. How were you able to match him in his ability? You weren’t a Hyuga, nor from any special clan whatsoever. So how were you able to beat him when it wasn’t even in your destiny to beat him?

He definitely often makes scathing remarks towards you during your time at the academy, but most of those remarks stem from his own insecurities and anger of not being strong enough.

Eventually when graduation time came, Neji got assigned to his team, but the rivalry with you was still going strong. He doesn’t face you in the Chunin exams but he wished that he did, maybe for old times sake, or to gain the satisfaction of beating you.

Most likely to gain the satisfaction of beating you, and to heal his wounded pride.

However his viewpoint slowly starts to change after his match with Naruto. He finally found peace and realized that people can change their own destinies, which also leads to try and understand you better.

At first when he starts acting more nicer to you, your like “is this the same Neji that I knew???” Yeah he didn’t leave a good impression on you with his condescending remarks, and arrogant behaviour, but he’s grown out of it.

The two of you start hanging out more often once he’s simmered down in his haughtiness, you often train together, and talk about various different topics.

You both find yourselves getting closer together. The regular sparring sessions always seemed to have a tension that never went unnoticed. It was clearly visible to all that saw you both together, but it wasn’t to the two of you.

Neji of course realizes that he has started to feel different things for you, beyond what close friends would feel. At first he tries to ignore those feelings.

He’s scared to get close to someone like that and doesn’t want to make himself vulnerable, in case they either reject his advances or if something bad happens to them.

He is a very stubborn individual and will push down these new feelings of his, and he won’t acknowledge them, you will probably have to be the one to confess to him, and when you do, he can feel his heart start to soar.

Of course he’ll keep a calm look on his face and simply say that he returns your affections, but inside he will be the happiest he’s ever been, and if you look close you will be able to see a faint pink blush on his pale cheeks.

Moving on towards actually dating. Neji is a very polite and courteous boyfriend. He takes “duties” as a lover very seriously. He always tells you to take care of yourself, and brings you things like flowers as gifts.

He still goes full strength on you during sparring as, that’s just how he is, he respects your strength and thinks that going “easy” on you would be disrespectful towards you.

If you are on a mission with him he’s going to be on watch like a hawk. He knows you can take care of yourself but he cares a lot about you and looks out for you too. If you act reckless during the mission, he’s not going to let you live it down for a few days.

He can be soft when he wants to be, sometimes when visiting the Hyuga compound and spending time with him in his room, you’ll both just sit next to each other and enjoy each others presence. He doesn’t strike me as a very physically affectionate type of person, but he would sometimes hold your hand.

His love language is more so acts of service. He likes to show you how much he cares about you, instead of touching you or telling you that he does.

Whether it’s helping you arrange your things, cooking food for you, bringing extra supplies for you during a mission in case you forgot some, he always remembers the little things.

I can definitely see him letting the words “I love you” slip out during an argument though. When you and Neji argue, he’s very stubborn, so even if he is in the wrong, it will take a while to get him to admit that. He’s a very prideful individual. If you are both stubborn then you might go for days without speaking to each other before one of you two caves in.

Neji hates to see you cry. If you cry then he will immediately soften and apologize, he hates seeing you cry that much. If he is the cause of your tears then he feels much guilt, but if someone else is the cause of your tears then whoever they are better sleep with one eye open.

You two were probably arguing about something that wasn’t too significant but, Neji got rather upset about it and of course he never backs down so it was starting to escalate until he blurted out “Well yeah I’m mad!! I’m mad because I love you!”

It suddenly became very quiet between you two, until he started stammering “W-well, I-I” you chuckled and spoke softly “I love you too Neji” and he felt his heart soar, he has officially stopped working. No wonder people say falling in love drives you crazy, because it was most certainly driving him crazy.

Neji is very protective of you, he loves you to the point that he’s sure he’d sacrifice his life for you. He now believes that destinies can indeed be changed, and he’s sure that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

You most likely feel the same way, after all, even if he has his flaws how can you not fall in love with him? With the way he treats you and stays true to his words and is one of the most honourable people you know.

Neji Hyuga and you are in love with each other no doubt about that, and the two of you will continue to be in love with each other forevermore. While your relationship does have its ups and downs, one thing about it is that your bond is unbreakable and everlasting.

[frownyalfred]

Hi! Not sure if this has been asked before but I've recently fell into the rabbit hole of the Batman/DCU fandom and I'm still starting out as a fanfic writer. I wanted to ask, how do you handle characterization for the batfam and their dynamics as a writer? I always felt so overwhelmed with how much content and interpretations there was to sift through!

My advice is highlight what characteristics YOU like about a batfam character and not just the ones you think should be present in any given batfam fic. There’s so much content out there, like you said — trying to include all of it and balance those divergent viewpoints just leads to writer frustration.

Also don’t include more than you’re ready for, especially when you’re first starting out. People will tell you that you’re a terrible person if you don’t include every single batkid in a batfam fic. But if you really get Dick, and maybe Tim, and that’s all you want to include? Heck yeah! The other characters will come as you read and write more over time. Don’t let folks rush you or tell you that you HAVE to understand them all at once and have a working knowledge of every character in order to be “good.”

[buddieism]

tommy's character, bucktommy's inherent flaws, tommy & eddie as mirrors and buddie endgame; a (lengthy) meta analysis

honestly, what's really confirmed my feelings about tommy (and the imminent bucktommy bones -> buddie pipeline) is that there have now been multiple opportunities for the writers to actually make tommy a likeable/serious love interest for buck and they just…haven’t. because while fans are naturally going to overanalyse every little thing, the vast majority of the show's audience are regular viewers who consume the show at face value and don't think twice about it -- so if tommy was intended to be buck's endgame or anything remotely close to it, they'd absolutely want to make the most of his (very limited) screen time to present him in the best light they could. think about karen, the only non-main LI, and how she was introduced to us -- despite hen's cheating, we can see how dedicated karen and hen are to each other and how karen is a complex character in her own right who is immediately easy to root for and love.

comparatively, when we look at tommy's s7 appearances and specifically his interactions with buck, it becomes abundantly clear that there isn't really much depth to their relationship at all. which is fine! it's just... you know. fine. let's get into it.

following the cruise arc, we watch tommy through buck's eyes in 7x04 where he's basically wining and dining eddie -- flying him to vegas, getting them front row tickets to a fight, sparring with him in muay thai, playing pick up basketball with him -- tommy and eddie are so similar (which we'll come back to later), and we even get that line from eddie about how well they "click." as the audience, we are being subconsciously told to align tommy and eddie together -- and furthermore, we are told that tommy can easily make grand gestures when he wants to. now let's compare that to the bucktommy moments of the season.

bucktommy's first date: tommy makes a shady comment that would have outed buck if eddie or marisol caught onto it and then proceeds to abandon him on the sidewalk because he thinks buck isn't "ready" for a relationship with a man

i'll be objective here -- i understand in a show like 911 there's always going to be "unnecessary" relationship conflict for the sake of drama and i can also see how buck trying to play off their date as platonic to eddie might have put a bad taste in tommy's mouth. but we hear from tommy himself that he struggled with being open about his sexuality when he was at the 118 so he could have absolutely extended some sympathy towards buck for not wanting to come out on the spot to his best friend -- especially when tommy fully knows how important of a role eddie plays in buck's life. at the very least, he didn't have to leave buck alone on the curb. this isn't me trying to woobify buck because yeah, he's a grown man, he's fine -- but that doesn't mean it still isn't a bit of an asshole move.

the bachelor party: tommy doesn't dress up for the theme and dismisses buck when he's clearly disappointed about him doing so

tommy showing zero interest for the bachelor party buck planned is practically the writers waving a massive red flag in front of the camera -- him having to leave because he's on call is an understandable 'conflict' plot point but why not have him show up in an 80s themed outfit? it wouldn't have changed anything except that he and buck would have had a positive interaction; buck would have been happy that tommy cared enough to make that small gesture and it could have been a cute way to establish their relationship as one built on mutual effort. (btw, the bucktommy hospital kiss could be seen as a big gesture, sure -- but from a more practical viewpoint knowing how rushed this season had to be, it was also just an easy way for buck to "come out" to the rest of the 118 without having to spend too much episode airtime on it.)

the medal ceremony: tommy says 'enjoy it while it lasts' (which, LOL) and also is not shown reacting to buck receiving his medal. he also has a conversation with henren in a deleted scene.

again, i'm going to try to give tommy the benefit of the doubt -- i'm not saying he has to be sunshine and rainbows all the time and i have no issue with a character having a snarky/sarcastic side. but when his screentime is so minimal, every line of dialogue matters. and it's pretty damning that the writers aren't taking those few chances to give us something to appreciate about him. with buck, tommy makes a dismissive comment for literally zero reason, and with hen and karen, who are rightfully looking out for their friend, tommy refuses to take them seriously at all.

bucktommy's dinner in the finale: buck displays some vulnerability about losing bobby, and tommy... really doesn't seem to care.

honestly i refuse to rewatch this part of the ep because it really icks me out on another level but iirc: buck says he's glad bobby's okay because bobby is like the father he never had -> tommy says "your father's alive" -> something something joke about daddy issues. ignoring #that joke entirely, it's really insane to me that they have tommy even acknowledge the nuclear bomb that is buck's relationship with his parents. yes, we had a bit of a ham-fisted 'redemption arc' in s6 but that doesn't negate the buckley parents being absolutely heinous and the fact that buck verbalises how bobby played the role of the father figure because philip didn't -- all for tommy to basically deny that to his face -- is absurd. tommy has expressed on multiple occasions that he's jealous of the 118 family bond, so this line is just... very interesting to me.

now, let's recap all these events and bring eddie back into the mix!

post-bucktommy's first date, buck is more torn up about the fact that he lied to eddie than the actual date to the point that he has to vent to maddie about it. he then comes out to eddie, who is incredibly supportive (and oliver and ryan make some very curious acting choices indeed). eddie is reiterated as one of buck's most significant relationships.

pre-bachelor party, eddie is the one to suggest he and buck dress in matching (queer-coded) costumes. he then stays by buck's side at the party when everyone else leaves and although we'll never get to see it (tim minear i'm inside your walls👹), they sing an absurdly romantic karaoke song together. eddie is reiterated as one of buck's most significant relationships.

during the medal ceremony, when the camera pans to each member of the 118's love interest/family, it is eddie we are shown smiling at buck, not tommy. this is especially interesting considering we get buck reacting to tommy. i honestly can't get over how a reciprocated tommy reaction would have been an easy yet significant moment to cement bucktommy as a relationship, but they gave us eddie's instead (with chris in the background and marisol conveniently obscured, mind you). eddie is reiterated as one of buck's most significant relationships.

in the final episode, when eddie is experiencing his personal worst nightmare, buck is the one at eddie's side every step of the way. buck talks to christopher, buck reassures eddie (without judgement), and it's made clear that buck will be there for eddie, whatever he needs.

at every possible opportunity, we the audience are being implicitly told that eddie is buck's person. he is his place of support (buck having his more vulnerable coming out scene with eddie rather than his sister); he has buck's back (the bachelor party); he is his family (medal ceremony reaction), and ultimately, this goes both ways (finale).

some other things worth noting: when buck has his coming out scene with maddie, she tells him he's confused about his feelings in a way that seems to indicate she's talking about his feelings towards eddie ("if you there's something you need to tell eddie, you will"). in bobby's conversation with buck in the firehouse, he's verbally supportive of tommy and even asks if buck is going to see him, but buck goes to eddie's house instead. these were deliberate choices made by the writers; eddie has been consistently intertwined in bucktommy's relationship both overtly and subtextually throughout the entirety of s7. and let's not even get into the whole 'evan' thing, because that could be a whole other post in itself.

from the first moment we start to learn about tommy's character (beyond his... coloured past), we find out that he and eddie are practically mirrors. why not make tommy and buck share similar interests? why not give them something to bond over? why present tommy and eddie as almost identical in every way? because tommy is a placeholder for eddie. buck's initial bisexuality journey can't happen with eddie when eddie still hasn't come to terms with his own feelings. so, in the meantime, tommy is the "safe" choice in buck's mind because buck has nothing to lose with tommy whereas he's got everything to lose with eddie. buck can't confront what he truly wants yet because the risk factor is far greater and it's been repeatedly asserted that buck has an issue with people in his life leaving -- he would never do anything to jeopardise his relationship with eddie.

but ultimately (and in my opinion, fairly soon), we are going to get that moment where it "clicks" for buck and he realises that it is eddie he has feelings for. and when that happens, there's basically only one way it can go. we know buck can't keep secrets from eddie; we know eddie is going into s8 feeling "isolated"; we know tim loves making his characters suffer before they can be happy. in my mind, the narrative is going to go something like this: buck feelings realisation -> pining buck era -> eddie healing journey and a reevaluation of what buck means to him -> some insane life-threatening situation that really doubles down on how buck and eddie care more about each other than anyone else because it is 9-1-1 at the end of the day -> love confession induced by their dramatic near-death experience -> #BUDDIE_CANON !

when we factor in how there was a possibility of eddie having the sexuality arc this season instead, how tim has said buddie is one of his favourite dynamics of the show, and how supportive both oliver and ryan are of the ship, i really can't see how everything isn't building to buddie endgame. every other main pairing of the show has had seasons of development, of conflict, of bonding moments. buck and eddie have gone through that with each other time and time over (tsunami/lawsuit/shooting arc etc), which is why every other random love interest that's introduced for either of them falls flat in comparison. they quite literally are exactly what the other person needs; buck wants the stability of a home, a family, and unconditional love; eddie wants someone he can trust, a caretaker for his son but also a partner. buddie is the ship the audience wants to root for, because we know they work! now that we have canonically bisexual buck and eddie finally having to face his complicated feelings about losing shannon, buddie isn't just the logical conclusion -- it's the inevitable one.

[flying-fangirls]

To be quite honest with y'all, one of my biggest frustrations with the Witch isn't the fact that she's portrayed as a bad person or an allegorical transphobe, but moreso with how... nasty, the responding attitude toward her is-- both in the podcast's voice and several fans' voices. I'm not saying that her hate and intolerance were totally excusable, but like. Relatively speaking-- in this podcast-- it's nowhere near the worst thing any character has done (especially in light of all the yonic/assault coding behind her character, but I won't go into that because it requires way more energy to respectfully talk about than I have rn)

Everything about Larson's background has pretty clear undertones of incest and rape, but we all still treat him as one of those "characters you love to hate" (and I'm definitely not condemning that fandom response btw, I do it too). Hell, even the podcast's voice itself portrays him as that entertainingly despicable villain. And even past Larson, let's be honest with ourselves, most main characters in this show have done incredibly fucked up stuff, such as Kayne, Arthur, and John. Still, Kayne also gets the entertaining villain treatment, and Arthur and John get praised for their imperfect nature.

The Witch though? It feels like the general response to her is unflinching disgust, a sort of "that nasty, lying bitch" attitude without any remorse or nuance. All of a sudden, harmful behaviors mean a character should only be despised, and nothing else.

And yeah sure, the Witch refused to budge from her intolerant viewpoint or whatever-- in this single conversation, after a lifetime of being taught only hate, despair, and loneliness. I don't know about y'all's experience talking to people raised in hateful environments, but it takes more than one heated conversation to change their minds. And again: no that doesn't excuse the harm they spread. But for a story that preaches the importance of giving people extended time to improve themselves from the worst of morality, even if they stumble or fuck up several times along the way? It feels entirely antithetical for this woman to get spat upon after a single impression of her.

Think about Yellow, too. Think about how he "grew up" in an environment (Arthur, then Larson) that taught him only hate and despair, which led him to be incredibly intolerant, violent, and hateful. And then think about how both the story's voice and us in the fandom treat Yellow. It's not with unflinching disgust and loud vitriol; most of us view him with sympathy, despite all the horrible things he says/does that aren't necessarily excusable, yet are understandable. Why is the Witch any different? Why does the disdain for her ring so much louder, sharper, and meaner than anyone else in this entire show? Why do we "love to hate" nearly every other antagonistic character we've met (Kellin, Butcher, Larson, Kayne, etc etc etc), but suddenly only do the "hate" half of it for this one specific character?

Why is SHE so much worse? What difference between HER and every other major onscreen character subconsciously shifted our viewpoints?

Obligatory disclaimers: Again, I don't think the Witch's physical/verbal violence was wholly excusable. I don't think anyone who dislikes the Witch is a terrible person, nor do I think Harlan or the show are terrible. I am not claiming that everyone in the fandom displays these attitudes, nor am I saying this attitude is some moral failure. This is a critical critique meant to spur critical evaluation, and not any sort of attack.

[treason-and-plot]

“Of course you can rely on me,” says Roy, her words causing the lump in his stomach to turn into a cold, heavy stone. “I’ll always be there for you. I love you, for Christ’s sake. You’re the most important person in my life. And I’m really sorry if I made you doubt that last night-”

“There was no ‘if’, Roy,” says Anya. “You absolutely gave me a lot of doubts. And they’re still there.”

Jesus, thinks Roy, why the fuck am I the bad guy? He takes another deep swig of his beer while he considers his position. But the rational part of his brain seems not to be working properly today. It’s been compromised by genuine fear that he could lose Anya if he doesn’t quickly get a handle on the situation. He also realises that he wasn’t lying when he told her she was the most important person in his life. And he understands for the first time what people mean when they say that they don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry. No ifs. I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I’m a selfish, insensitive arsehole. And I’m going to do my best to try and explain why I was distant last night,” he says. “I’m not defending my behaviour, I’m just trying to provide you with some context, okay?”

“Okay,” she says quietly.

“Well, first off, I was angry and upset even before you told me about your Dad because Sonia had told me she wasn’t going to let us see the kids on Friday night,” he says. “So, yeah. There was that. And okay, I know now that it wasn’t that much of a huge deal compared to what Michael did, but it still really affected me.”

Anya says nothing, her eyes scanning his face as he talks.

“And I felt like I couldn’t share my feelings with you because you were so distraught, and I guess that kind of made me resentful and caused me to withdraw,” he continues, warming to his story. “It was childish of me, and pathetic, and I have no excuses for not putting your needs before mine. You’re right. I let you down. And I really hope that…that you can forgive me. And believe me when I say that I’ll do everything I can to try and make it up to you.”

“Thank you,” she says in the same quiet voice.

“Are we… good, then?” he says.

“Why did you question whether he was cheating?” she says.

“What?”

“You asked if going to a prostitute was cheating. Your exact words were: “Is it technically cheating, though?” Why did you say that? How could you say that? Are you saying that you think that it’s okay for married men to visit prostitutes, Roy? I’m just really confused. And concerned that we have different viewpoints about what constitutes cheating. I mean, do you honestly think it would be morally okay for you to visit a prostitute? I really need to know!”

[hotwaterandmilk]

2024 English language manga releases I'm enjoying

Here are a couple of titles I've picked up in English so far this year that I've enjoyed. Most of these I read digitally in Japanese for one or two volumes a couple of years back, but opted to wait and purchase the English print versions for my collection.

I feel like all of these books are worth the purchase price, but don't have the energy to do individual posts for each of them. So here's a very smooshed together post covering a few 2024 reads.

GOGOGOGO-GO-GHOST! from Yen Press

Akechi Ushiro is a heavily flawed, hard-working woman whose disregard for her own wellbeing results in her coming face-to-face with her equally flawed guardian spirit, Masako. The pair decide to combine their forces and begin tackling the obstacles in Ushiro's life using curses.

Hiruzuka Miyako's darkly funny tale of a woman taking control of her life alongside her queer sister spirit is such a delight . Featuring a rough-and-ready art style that helps underscore the macabre elements at play, the entire first volume is scathing in its humour and unashamed in its portrayal of Ushiro's flaws. I was surprised when this one got picked up by Yen Press a while back, but so happy to see it enjoying a stateside release. If you're after something that doesn't always play nice, GOGOGOGO-GO-GHOST! might well be for you.

Edit: If you haven't read it before, this Japanese interview with Hiruzuka is worth reading for a bit more on her background and the creation of the series.

Pass the Monster Meat, Milady! (Akujiki Reijou to Kyouketsu Koushaku) from Kodansha USA

A sweet little fantasy romance between two individuals who find solace in one another despite being reviled by the general public for their interest in monsters. One loves defeating monsters in battle while the other loves cooking them!

Melphiera is a smart, capable heroine while Aristide Rogier du Galbraith is a dashing and supportive hero. The manga art is a bit low in detail, but the characters and story are absolutely worth your time. I'd love to see the LNs that the manga adapts in English someday too. I mentioned in tags before this whole series gives me the types of vibes I enjoy in historical fantasy romance novels, so if you like that kind of content this might be a good title to check out (or recommend to friends who appreciate romantasy but haven't tried manga before).

In The Name of The Mermaid Princess (Mio no Na no Moto ni) from VIZ Media

In a country where being "unhuman" or in some way supernaturally inclined is seen as a curse rather than a blessing, Princess Mio takes medications to suppress her mermaid-esque traits and please her father. Her perspective changes when Yuri, a tutor from her fiance's home kingdom, encourages her to be herself and embrace the things that make her different.

I've seen people say this is a bit too obvious in its parallels between fantasy oppression and IRL issues, but this is a Ribon manga for young girls so yeah it's on the nose but I think it works for the audience it has in mind. Tashiro Miya's artwork here is gorgeous and both leads are quite endearing (Mio is SO freakin adorable I can'ttttt). Overall a solid little series with nicely packaged volumes for those after something for a younger audience.

The Moon on a Rainy Night (Amayo no Tsuki) from Kodansha USA

A romantic slice-of-life tale featuring two high school girls, one of whom is a budding pianist (Saki) and the other a loner who is hard of hearing (Kanon).

I don't normally go much on high school romance but the way this series blends classic GL melodrama tropes with genuine issues in an earnest manner works for me. While we see things more from Saki's viewpoint as she eagerly tries to learn more about Kanon and tries to figure out her own sexuality, we do also come to understand Kanon's thwarted ambitions and the difficulties she has with letting people in.

Kuzushiro's art is quite whispy and cute, with all the characters tending to look quite well-realised on the page. While I prefer romances that feature a character with disability to centre their perspective, I do feel this does a decent job of portraying both girls as they try to navigate their deepening relationship. YMMV on this though, particularly if you are d/Deaf or hard of hearing.

Sketchy from Kodansha USA

Ako is living an unfulfilling life with a dull job and even duller boyfriend, but she suddenly finds herself thrust into a whole new world upon encountering a mysterious young skateboarder.

Sketchy, while ostensibly about women taking up skateboarding is more a snapshot of their individual lives and the role having a hobby plays once you're no longer a child. Ako's story particularly resonates with me (I literally worked her job at a similar age) but all the characters prove interesting in their own way.

Makihirochi's art is a bit more experimental than others on this list and may not be to everyone's taste, but I do think Sketchy is still worth checking out even if you're not entirely sold on the art (which I think has improved since I first became familiar with her work through Itsuka Tiffany de Choushoku o in Comic Bunch). Titles like this, which, let's face it, have low levels of mainstream appeal, don't often get English language releases so I highly recommend supporting this one if you have the opportunity to do so.

[brucewaynehater101]

Look maybe it’s just me but if I saw my little brother spiraling I wouldn’t just corner him in a graveyard once to talk about therapy then let him fuck off to go globe trotting

I mean... kind of I'm trying to be more canon accurate in my posts, so I apologize for correcting ya.

Cassie was the one to meet Tim in the graveyard. Dick met him at the city bounds.

Here's a funny pic of Dick as payment

Bruh. I'd either be so intimidated or so mad if Dick did this to me.

"We need to talk." After what Tim walked into of Damian wearing the Robin suit because Dick didn't talk to him until after the suit was made? I'd be mad (this is not an anti Dick. This is just how I would feel).

Anyways. Dick didn't let Tim go. Tim held him at staff point and guilt tripped the man into letting him go (not anti-Tim either).

Re-reading it again, I still think Tim is an unreliable narrator.

However, Tim is all like, "Hey, I know I sound nuts. I know how it looks, but I know I'm right." He provided examples of how he can, in fact, understand where Dick is coming from.

And then Dick is all like, "I know how you feel, but you need a therapist." Which... yes, but that's not the point. Tim is bringing up all this horrid shit in his life and acknowledging how he understands Dick's viewpoint (while also saying Dick is only there cause Cassie called him). Then Dick claims to understand Tim's perspective, but only from Dick's "Tim must be seeing things where isn't anything instead of grieving" viewpoint.

Basically, they aren't communicating with each other efficiently (they are also physically fighting each other while doing this too).

It's a mess. A hot mess.

Dick is trying:

But he's also just not listening to Tim. He's not giving Tim the benefit of the doubt. He's concerned af, but he's not listening or trusting Tim. He's just going at it from his own worried mentality that Tim's going down a conspiracy bender. I don't blame Dick for not communicating well (poor man is going through so much at this point [Damian, JLA, switching to Batman, etc]).

However, I also understand Tim's perspective. He doesn't trust Dick to actually listen to him. Dick wants to help Tim Dick's way and not what Tim believes he needs.

I personally get very very triggered if my boundaries are not met. If someone held on after I told them to let go? Yeah. Hands are being thrown. I also get triggered if people try to force me to do shit, don't listen to me, or try to do "what's best for me" when I've told them no. Real quick way to get cut off by me.

That's off topic, lmao.

Anyways, Dick kind of let Tim go, but that's because Tim forced him to. It wasn't because Dick didn't care, but he didn't care in the way Tim wanted him to (debatable if that's not how Tim needed either).

I'm curious. Are there any comics that cover that scene from Dick's POV? I'd appreciate it if anyone could let me know ^^

Also, I agree I would not do what Dick did here. On the other hand, my siblings and I have worked very very hard for the relationships we have. It's taken years of trial and error to get the boundaries and level of communication the way it is. We all agree to allow the others to make decisions for themselves and fight their own battles unless otherwise asked (I had a habit of trying to help and fix the situation for them when I was a teen. Now we just inform and offer help. Lots of acknowledgment for boundaries as well). If my siblings want to make dumb decisions, I let them. Just as they would for me. I might tell them I think that's dumb as hell, but it's their life.

If Tim was my sibling, I'd say something like, "I'm not sure I believe you, but I trust you. If this is what you need, if you think this is true, I'll support you. Would you like my direct assistance with this?"

If they say no, then I'll respond with, "Okay. I can handle Gotham as long as you keep me in the loop. If it's been 48 hours without contact, I will hunt you down. I love you."

Then we'd hug goodbye.

On the other other hand, there's not this age gap between us. Dick is 7 or so years older than Tim, and Tim is a teen. Dick may feel it's his responsibility to look after Tim and might be hitting the road bumps I did with my siblings (of giving them the respect and trust to handle their own issues as well as know what they need).

So, the situation is a hot mess :)

[purplesuni]

I’ve been hearing from a lot of places that people who disliked season 3 “don’t understand” that the show is an allegory or that they are “media illiterate”. The specific viewpoint I am talking about here in this post is going to be that “because the show is an allegory, the characters aren’t meant to be developed as much and western audiences don’t understand that.” I strongly disagree in the context of squid game. I have a video I watched saying this if anyone needs the link lemme know, its why I made this post.

Its a genuine point you can make about the show that every character represents a potential type of person in Korea. Gi-hun is a divorced gambler. Sang-woo went to SNU yet has a lot of debt. The codependent mother and son. Hyun-ju is transgender. Sae-byeok and No-eul are both from North Korea and in debt trying to save their loved ones. In-ho was an ex-police officer. I could name more, but the reasons all these people got involved in the games was because of their debt. I won’t dispute the value these traits bring to the overall allegory, of course not! It is very true that the reason different types of people were included is to shed light on the debt issues of Korean people. It’s extremely valuable that different kinds of people are included in the story, and therefore how different types of people in Korea are affected by capitalism. That is the allegory. A major part of it.

BUT, in my opinion, not at all a valid reason to say “oh that’s why things weren’t explained in season 3, that’s why many characters feel flat!”. Like yes Gi-hun was and is a gambler, yeah Hyun-ju is trans, yes the mother and the son are codependent, etc but the director CLEARLYYY wrote them as more than just that! Gi-hun shows change and regret. Hyunju is caring and loyal. Ali is very kind, likes movies, and is a very trusting person. None of their personality traits are stereotypes, they are all different!

They all have the same thing in common, they were or are in debt thats true. But not explaining crucial plot points and leaving major character arcs unresloved/ruined shouldn’t be given the excuse of being for the “allegory”, because why would you make the characters nuanced in the first place? If not to show that everyone is a human and a victim of the games?? Even In-ho, who is the Front Man, has an arc that feels like it should have lead somewhere. It can be inferred that he misses his wife and brother. He still shows human emotions! So why, for what reason, were all of these people built up this way? They don’t seem like caricatures to me.

Making everyone a flat character was not hdhs intention clearly in season 2, and I’m honestly done defending the butchered character arcs with the excuse of allegory. At this point, this makes me feel like people think he should never have given someone like In-ho any character development at all. And I’m sure he did consider it looking at how season 3 turned out.

Let’s take at a famous piece of media that is an obvious allegory, Animal Farm. I feel like the characters in that were much more flat and unexplored, compared to squid game. And it did work! But you have to remember squid game was never really like that. Consistency matters.

Tbh, if what they wanted was to show the doomed system of capitalism and its effect on lots of indebted people in Korea, using flat “caricatures” wouldn’t have even worked imo. After all you need to remember the show is an allegory for capitalism and explores the possibilities of human nature, aka, also how HUMANS built up capitalism and everyone who is affected by it is human.

Most squid game characters are not flat. They aren’t really stereotypes, and their arcs should have been respected, including, especially In-ho’s and Gi-hun’s. And yeah man some characters were less developed and left as symbols, or even just another example of a person, but that’s okay too?? Yeah the baby is a sign of hope and doesn’t have a personality yet and shaman Seon-nyeo does not change much, but thats totally fine to have in the show too besides the main characters! It’s actually good to have that!

However no answers does not equal a good allegory that “keeps you thinking”! And yes media with allegory can have developed characters!

Justice for Gi-hun and In-ho’s moral battle that was basically forgotten in season 3 🥀

Also, side note people can understand the symbolism in media and still be critical of it. Like yes we understood the meaning but we also deserved consistency and answers, having an opinion is okay. Please don’t misinterpret this post as hating you if you liked season 3. I just wanted to share what I think. Here on tumblr from what I have seen everybody is really respectful and understanding though! 🩷🩷

[bloobluebloo]

Hi! i just wanted to say i am SO GLAD that there's someone else out there that thinks Rauru's whole deal in TOTK was sus. Like, i played the game and when the story said "this godlike figure with great technology descended from the heavens and benevolently decided to rule over the 'non-advanced' people already living there and also 'invited' all the other neighboring kingdoms to dissolve and be absorbed into HIS kingdom for the sake of 'peace' and 'prosperity'" when i got there i was just "now wait a fucking second". Maybe it's just because I'm from one of the many countries that were colonized by Brittan, but i always found the way that the game talked about the Zonai to be kind of propaganda-y and I'm glad I'm not the only one who sees it. AND im also glad that you say "Rauru had some shit going on" but don't try to like, IDK how to say this, woobify Ganon? Like, YEAH Rauru was doing some messed up stuff, but that doesn't suddenly make Gannon the underdog victim we should root for, Ganon is still an asshole.

TLDR: i think ur cool and ur takes are based. Have a nice day!

It's my pleasure! To be quite honest, I would have been fine with TotK's storytelling if it had taken the steps to portray Rauru as a character with some compromised morals. If Rauru had started out as a king that truly thought himself above others because of his Zonai heritage, and then had learned the value of working together with others once he realized that someone like Ganondorf could overpower him, then I would have been more forgiving of his character arc. In fact, it would have tied in with TotK's alleged theme of "hands working togther", with Rauru having accepted that he could be victorious with the help of others versus Ganondorf who chose to stand alone. Alas, that is not the story we got.

We have to accept that Rauru was a good king from the start, soft spoken and flawless. We should not question why he built fortifications so close to the desert's borders that Ganondorf could actually send a horde of molduga to attack his forces, monsters that famously can only travel through sand (which means that Hyrule's fortifications were built extremely close to the desert's borders). We should not question why Rauru sent multiple invitations to the Gerudo to join when no answer should have been accepted as a "no thank you". We should not wonder why other tribes seemingly accepted fealty without resistance even though we watched Rauru decimate an entire horde of molduga in seconds with the power he held. We should not ask why there are mines beneath each tribe's settlement or why there is a flying Zonai fortress in the Gerudo skies (which, by the way, the famous TotK Artbook states that the Gerudo were a sovereign and old kingdom so like, hello?). It reads like propaganda because that is how propaganda is fed to the masses. It forces you to accept a viewpoint without question, and a lot of TotK was simply accepting that Rauru is the good guy and Ganondorf is the bad guy without much narrative weight. As for Ganondorf, I enjoy calling him "the worst victim you could possibly come up with". He was born with round ears which, in the world of Hyrule, is a predetermined sign that he was going to be cursed. He is also born a man amongst a tribe of women who famously hold a lot of disdain about men in general. He is the king at the time when a Zonai is trying to consolidate his power "in the name of peace" and who is being forceful about ceding power to him. Imagine Ganondorf having to bear the burden of being the one to dismantle Gerudo sovereignty? Additionally, he's the only one who is seemingly resisting Rauru's encroachment onto his lands. All's to say that he has reason to be angry! However, that doesn't mean that he doesn't have his own personal motives or selfish wants, perhaps desires that are in his own best interests more than for the sake of his people. What people don't understand however is that just because someone isn't a great person it doesn't mean that what's happening to him is good and justified.

Anyways, sorry for rambling! I will always be beating Rauru with hammers 😌

[inkpot909]

Walking around looking like a million bucks, Giorno loves wearing makeup. His bread and butter being natural looks with hints of flare. Depending on the occasion he might decide to go all out. When he was little he used to raid his mother’s stash of makeup and waste time away by practicing. It wasn’t until later in life, becoming more secure in himself, that he starts wearing it out. At least, that’s the story he’ll tell if asked. Call it what he wants, but it’s largely a factor of his Brando genes finally kicking in.

Bruno gets the appeal of makeup, at the very least. The time it takes… the artistry…. he would never hold it against someone for putting on any amount or style of makeup. Does he wear makeup himself? If asked, he would shrug and say skincare takes up enough of his routine. To his credit his skincare is quite extensive, but that’s as close to ‘makeup’ as he ever gets. He’s very casual about it, but in truth he’s conscious over his unsteady hands. He just doesn’t trust himself with it at all.

A true goth diva, Abbacchio isn’t ever seen without completing his usual look everyday. Black or cool shades of lipstick, with mascara and eyeliner. It’s a simple routine, but it’s second nature to him at this point. Sleeps in makeup all the time. His eyelashes stick together and the black flakes lightly coat his dark circles. Weirdly enough… he kind of likes it. He won’t even wash his face in the morning before slapping more makeup over it. Even weirder is that he pulls it off. That, or he’s so naturally intimidating that no one dares point it out. Maybe that’s been the real goal all along.

It’s in the kindest, most understanding way, to say that Mista has never tried makeup and never will. He likes it and will be very supportive if a potential partner would take the time to do themselves up, but Mista himself…? His personal hygiene has areas of improvement that are definitely higher up on the priority list. Like… using deodorant? Yeah, that would be a big help, wouldn’t it?

Makeup? It’s a hard pass for Fugo. He doesn’t spend much time in front of the mirror and would prefer to keep it that way. His viewpoint is “Why would I put makeup on? I look fine.” A tad bit too defensive, but that’s the answer he sticks to nonetheless. In actuality… it’s one of the few things his mind cannot wrap itself around. He watches Giorno do up his face with exaggerated bewilderment. How in the world people can cake themselves so effortlessly is beyond him, and he’s only a little jealous. Besides, his practicality keeps him from indulging anyways. Maybe in another lifetime.

The idea of so much as trying makeup never once crossed Narancia’s mind. It wasn’t ever on his radar. Regardless of Giorno and Abbacchio’s habits, the possibility was never considered. He honestly thought for a while that it’s just what Giorno naturally looks like. That was, until he met Trish. It’s in her nature to want to practice beauty and play with makeup, so he considered her wanting to include him meant they’re becoming genuine friends. He was correct, and he also discovered for himself… makeup is not for him. He likes wearing makeup, but putting it on is a whole other story. As terrible at it as he is, he’s especially fond of eyeliner. He rarely puts it on, though, since he’d prefer if someone else does it for him.

[naomistars3]

Art by: Vivinos on Youtube

A rant post mostly about Mizi

I'm genuinely so sad at this video but it was so well done, The visuals, the ART from how different it was compared to Round 1, not even mentioning the symbolism???

One thing I also like about it Is that it shows that Love can hurt that you can love someone while hurting them or doing something bad and that it is still love cause compared to alot of media or atleast the fandom version of medias tend to say that a character doesn't like another character or even care about them because they hurt said other character, like Jinx and Sikko from Arcane.

The ending of the characters was so bittersweet for me expect maybe Till (Which hell yeah his alive!). Luka is still an 'object' or celebrity of the Alien and based on the Luka is Back billboard he either die and they made a clone of him or they had to 'fix' his face cause I'm like 90% percent sure bro got burned but either way he is forced to still sing.

Mizi being known as the witch cause of love thing made me have flashbacks to Madoka Magica. I do hate people who call Mizi 'Manipulative' or suddenly bad , though I do not think I have a full understanding of her character the comic that was released before hand to me didn't seem to make her bad (She also seems to believe she is as bad as Luka who in her viewpoint is someone who doesn’t deserve pity),

she just played into the role of what everyone around her thought which I guess is Manipulative but still who hasnt played the role of someone else to pleased other people whether its family, friends or randos on the street?

Mizi love for Sua is interesting cause she sees her as Her god, Her universe but wants to break her/have some sense of control because of her backstory with the way her owner Shine treated her (When everyone though that shine was a good owner—I do think compared to other owners she was but again Mizi is still a pet, I also think that maybe Shine or her other creatures family may have been the one to kill mizi mom and adopt Mizi out of pity). Mizi pretended to be oblivious to Sua plan of dying for Sua sake because she knew if Mizi died Sua wouldn't be able to handle it.

The scene where after she seems to beg Isaac to save Till then switching to her running into the room where Sua practiced her Death is what I guess is her mind acceptance on finally protecting someone she cares about or perhaps it's a scene that shows what actually happened during when she finds out about Sua planing her death cause Mizi seems to be a very unreliable narrator especially in the comic mentioned earlier with Mizi sorta painting herself as the one who Manipulatied the odds and acted innocent just for her survival no matter the cost and she says alot of things (mostly her feelings) that contradict the things shown. Like how she wasn't desperate for Sua then showing her being very desperate for Sua or the fight that happens between the two in the video that seems to be about the whole planned Sacrifice.

Mizi seems to be alive and is wanted as far as the billboard show but her crash out destroyed Alien Stage to the point there is a museum about the whole thing with children that have the DNA of the Main Cast.

Till is alive, People saying that the person at the end is Till's mom are delusional (Till's mom has a mole under her eye and has been dead), After Round 7 to Weige and Karma there's only like a few minutes that passed between then so Till being Alive is completely possible and there's a whole scene with Mizi hearing his heartbeat. At the end Till seems to have joined the Rebels or kinda does his own form of rebelling. I think Till is now mute because of the scars around his neck and the fact he uses drawing to communicate with the kids. Then at the end where he is smiling at the kid with the DNA of the two people he loved like AHHH. Anyway Till unlike the rest of cast lived with his mom (not counting Mizi cause she watched her mom die) before being separated and is the most human character or atleast different from the other main cast members which is also shown in the differences in the songs that were posted separately from the Channel.

Anyway I loved the video and seem like a suitable ending(?) even though it is bittersweet was low key expecting an ending that does a Revolution that puts a stop to the comtest like in the Hunger Games but this seems more plausible.

P.s I wrote this with 0 hours of sleep and it's 5am where I'm from sooo anything that is wrong blame it on that.

Ty for reading this rant and yes I didn't mention Ivan or Hyuna because I need sleep

[ichorai]

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

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

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

words ; 32.0k

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

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

series masterlist. main masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understandably so.”

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

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

“By the beach. With Shiv.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The both of them struggled for words.

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

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

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

 Both you and Roman stared Shiv down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s like a beaten dog.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your words lingered heavily between the four of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. He was met with dead silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you? Really?”

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

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

There was a tense beat of silence between you.

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

“Okay, Rome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quiet settled over the group. 

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

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

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

Did he just compare you to a stuffed shirt—?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

“But not like-like her?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Romeo,” you dryly said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When you laughed, Roman grinned along with you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do. Yes, I do. Yes, yeah.”

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

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

“Tom.”

“Me? Uh, Pierce?”

“Yes,” said an exasperated Logan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Roman!” barked his father. 

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

“Stand the fuck up!”

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

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

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

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

“To smoke you out for Dad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crackling silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“How much is a gallon of fucking milk?”

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

“Greg! How much is a gallon of milk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ro—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t be mad.”

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

“Go to sleep, Rome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t trying to compliment you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Memories of last night made your nose wrinkle in distaste. 

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

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

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

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you coming?” he asked.

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

“Well… yeah.”

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

“Oh, you are? Fuck you,” he snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, mommy,” he teasingly replied. 

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

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

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

“Hello, dear. Hope you’re well.”

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

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

A gunshot.

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

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

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

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

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

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

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“No, I don’t. Where’s Tom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He texted you, over and over again.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Rome. You okay?”

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

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

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

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

“Hello? Rome? Are you okay?”

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

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

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

“I’m okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that because you’re dirty?”

“I am. I’m a dirty, dirty girl.”

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

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

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

“I’m… being sexy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already asked me that, Rome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?”

“She got turned on.”

“Uh, congratulations?”

“I didn’t like it.”

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

You could hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold it.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More silence. Labored breaths.

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

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

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

“Mmh. Night.”

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Romeo.”

“Mmkay, bye, fuck-face.” 

With that, the call ended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So… where’d you learn Latin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what about the tabloids on you?”

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

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

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

“That’s good to hear.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a joke! He laughed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got it, Dad,” said Kendall.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s for a fire, Ro.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was going to be a long weekend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another fake laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shiv narrowed her eyes. “For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and Roman exchanged confused looks. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Woah!” exclaimed Roman. “Hey, now.”

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

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

“No, no, no, it’s totally fine, it’s just not our thing,” Tabitha replied. “We’re kinda like eunuch besties. It works for us.”

Scratching the back of his head, Roman cleared his throat. “She’s joking. Obviously. She’s kidding. We’re actually quite relentless in that regard. Just… fuck city out here.” 

You almost choked on the water you’d been sipping, the memories of a certain call you had with Roman resurfacing to the forefront of your mind. 

“You okay, Y/N?” Peter asked, lightly patting your back. 

“Fine. Just down the wrong pipe,” you winced. “And, you know, the idea of Roman and Tabs going to pound town doesn’t exactly whet my appetite.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” said Roman. “It’s unbecoming.”

Before you could snip back, the table fell quiet when Nan Pierce asked who would be taking on the company after Logan. Your godfather purposefully skirted around the topic, evading a solid name entirely.

Then, Shiv made the terrible mistake of announcing herself as the next CEO.

“Wait, uh, what’s happening?” Peter queried.

“Mmh. I think my life just ended,” Roman responded, looking every bit as shocked as you.

More flubbering from both Logan and Shiv. They were fucking themselves over, you could just feel it.

“You know what, maybe this dinner was a little bit premature. Seems like you guys are still working some things out,” said Peter. 

“No, uh, this is just some family hijinks,” Kendall tried to protest.

Marcia leaned in closer to Logan to ask, “Is this true?”

That seemed to be the last straw for him, because he yelled out, “Will you stop?”

More tense silence. Your foot rested over Roman’s, which was bouncing up and down rapidly beneath your heel. His hand rested on your knee, gripping a tad too tight.

“Well. I was just thinking that it’s such a beautiful, clear night out. Mark—would you like to guide us on a little after-dinner stargaze?” Nan asked.

And with that, came the end of the dinner.

“Did you guys know?” Tabitha asked both you and Roman as the three of you pushed away from the table to head outside. 

“No. No, I didn’t,” said Roman, still in shock.

You had a feeling, sure—there was no way it’d be Connor. Not Kendall, because of his recent endeavors with trying to take over the company, along with his substance abuse. It was between Roman and Shiv, and it didn’t take a genius to see that Logan didn’t think his youngest son was all that competent. That left only Shiv, after all.

“I didn’t know,” you simply said. 

The three of you strode out, leaving only Shiv and Logan left in the dining room.

“Those stars were really nice,” Tabitha said, lounging on the bed as Roman aggressively rummaged through the luggage in search of his toothbrush.

He was growing increasingly agitated about the idea of Shiv taking over the company, channeling his frustrations out on the poor suitcase for not presenting him his toothbrush on a golden pedestal. With a groan and a hand carding through his hair, Roman kicked at its side, sending the bag skidding against the wall.

“Ro,” Tabitha called. “I have a meeting on Monday, and I’d really love to deal with your neuroses and talk about it and everything but, uh, if you’re gonna lose your mind in here, I might just see if Naomi would let me crash in her bed.”

The man pulled on his face. He hummed once, then twice, as if he was deliberating over something.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s fuck.”

A disbelieving smile danced across her face. She thought he was full of shit. “Yeah, totally. We do the sex so well, so that’s a brilliant idea.”

Clenching his jaw, Roman clambered onto the bed. “Alright. Come on. Come here, you hot fucking piece of shit.”

He tried kissing her, but his nose knocked into hers the wrong way, his hand gripped at her shoulder at an awkward angle, and his lips fell onto only the upper corner of her mouth, barely even counting as a kiss. 

“Woah, easy there, wolfman!” She burst into a fit of laughter, and Roman pulled away with a string of insecure apologies, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, which throbbed from the impact. 

“That was awesome,” he bit out, lying face-down on the bed next to her. “I’m so fucking good at this. Sorry.”

“Yeah, you were, like, squeezing my shoulder really fucking hard—”

“Wasn’t that sexy? How I just took you? Bet you orgasmed like five times in a row.” Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Do you want to, though? Like actually?”

She smiled. “Mmkay. Do I want to…? Make love?”

He frowned. “Nope. Wow. I just—” A groan and a sigh.

Features softening, Tabitha reached out to rub at Roman’s back. “Hey. I’m not… uninterested in solving you.”

Roman turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we can make it, like… I don’t know… wrong?”

Tabitha was supposed to be dead. Which—and Roman thought this was quite obvious—meant that she wasn’t supposed to be wet. Now, there were a million and one ways for them to have sex and have it be wrong (like how it felt with you, maybe), but he’d suggested for her to play dead because… well, because he didn’t want it to feel like he was having sex with her. 

The very thought of fucking Tabitha didn’t sit quite right with him. He liked her a lot, and she was fucking hot as shit, but Roman just… couldn’t. He just couldn’t! Maybe she was right. Maybe they were better off as eunuch besties.

And so it came as no shock to both parties when the dead woman sex didn’t end up working out. Tabitha murmured that the morgue was closing for the night—and that she’d go wank off in the bathroom with her electric toothbrush as a makeshift vibrator. Roman apologized to her again, and curled up in the middle of the bed.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have sex with his girlfriend, like any other fucking person would?

After five minutes of wallowing in his own shame, Roman dragged himself off the bed and did what he knew how to do best: he ran straight to you.

When there was a knock at your door, you were ninety percent sure it was Roman. The other, more terrified, ten percent anxiously wondered if it was Sleazy Pete coming to talk your ear off some more about the latest developments in artificial intelligence. 

To your relief, it was Roman, clad in a loose white shirt and soft, dark pants. 

“Hey, Romeo,” you greeted, pulling him in and glancing out the hallway, making sure nobody was around to see. “Man, am I glad to see you. I was really scared you were somebody else.”

He made a high-pitched, humorous noise, crossing his arms as you softly shut the door closed. “Peter? Oh, no. He’s too high and mighty to come chasing after you so early. He’s the kind to date the same person for ten years, accidentally cum inside one time and knock them up, which then keeps them chained to his side for the rest of his life. You’re good for now.”

“For now?” You were ready to make another quippy retort, when you noticed the way Roman scuffed his bare feet into the carpet, hand scratching at the back of his head. Something was bugging him. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“Huh? Nothing happened. Fuck off.”

Biting at the inside of your cheek, you reached out to him, holding both his hands within yours. “Rome.”

He parroted your name in an equally emphatic manner. 

You sat down on the bed, steering him to sit beside you. “Is this about Shiv?”

Oh. Right. He’d been so caught up with his guilt and shame over Tabitha that he’d momentarily forgotten about that other part of his life that was just majorly fucked over. 

Roman shrugged. “She fucked up bad, huh?”

You laid down, which prompted him to follow you, his head leaning on your shoulder. The two of you stared up at the ceiling together. 

“We all make mistakes. I think your dad probably led her on with a carrot painted with faux gold. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your long-time friend made a noise of agreement. 

Comfortable silence stretched thinly between the two of you. Roman faintly noticed that your hair was damp—you’d probably taken a shower after the walk. After inhaling sharply, he caught a whiff of your body spray: sweeter than fucking cotton candy and it almost made him want to puke. Key word being almost—Roman rather liked the smell. Especially on you.

“You smell good.”

“Mmh. Thanks.”

You arched your back, bones popping with your movement as you mumbled under your breath sleepily. Something within Roman stirred. 

“I tried to have sex with Tabitha.”

Suddenly, you weren’t all that sleepy anymore. “Oh? How’d it go?”

“I…” Roman winced. Saying it out loud made it sound so much worse, for some reason. “I pretended she was dead.”

“What?” There was a mildly shocked laugh to your tone.

“Consensually!” he vehemently tacked on. “But, you know, she was fuckin’ dripping for me, so… took the experience away, I guess. I don’t know. I like her a lot. I just don’t… I don’t…”

“You don’t want to have sex with her?”

Another shrug. Roman blew out a drawn-out exhale. “Yeah. I dunno.”

“That’s okay, Rome. You don’t need to have sex if you don’t want to, and you shouldn’t feel bad about not wanting it. That’s literally the definition of consent.”

A part of Roman seemed to melt with your words. Your affirmation that there wasn’t something wrong with him (or, at least that one trait of his, he knew there were several other parts of him that you’d consider highly immoral) relieved him more than he’d care to admit.

“Well… I do want it. I just don’t want it with her, maybe?” His voice went all soft yet high-pitched at the end of the question.

Suddenly, you turned your head to him, your nose only a hair’s breadth away from his. 

“Well, Ro,” you began, husky and low, “who would you want it with?”

He didn’t need to say it. You knew already.

“Who do you want to touch you?” you murmured, hand reaching out to skim over his chest, his stomach, grazing over the very top of his pants and toying with the band of his boxers. “Who do you want to make you feel good, Romeo?”

A low whine caught within his throat when you leaned forward to kiss up the column of his throat, nipping at the skin lightly. All of his sanity seemed to fly straight out the window when your hand dipped within his boxer, tugging out his semi-hard cock, languidly stroking along the length. He moaned, chest rumbling with the sound.

Your eyelids hung low as you nosed along his jaw, which strained with how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Mmh, you’re a dirty little pervert, aren’t you? Sneaking away from your girlfriend to rut your pretty cock against me. You’re a mess and I’ve barely even touched you, Rome.”

It’d been so long. So fucking long since someone touched him this way. Since he’d let someone touch him like this. Since he wanted someone to touch him like this. It was all you. Just you, and only you.

And so, it was no wonder that he was nearing his orgasm already, twitching within your grasp as he whined louder. He murmured unintelligibly, pleading for something he didn’t yet know. 

“Can you be a good boy and cum for me?” you susurrated, planting kisses over his jaw, his cheek, the bridge of his nose. You didn’t dare kiss him on the lips—you weren’t quite sure if that would be too far for your peculiar relationship. 

When he came, a loud groan erupted from his throat, which was quickly muffled when you clapped a palm over his mouth, his eyes flew open to meet yours, pupils fully blown, almost eclipsing the molten brown of his irises. You stroked him through his orgasm, murmuring a mixture of degradations and praises all the way.

You pulled back when he began to jerk his hips away with overstimulation, panting against your palm. The sticky spend on your hand glistened beneath the lamp’s warm-hued light, and you brought it up to your face to kitten-lick his cum off his fingers, humming in satisfaction. The sight nearly made Roman pass out. He swallowed hard, propping himself up on the bed on an elbow.

Voice hoarse, he croaked out, “Thanks. Do you, uh… do you need…”

Yes. You wanted it so badly—you wanted him. 

But you knew Roman wasn’t really in the right mindspace to reciprocate anything at the moment. And the guilt that weighed heavy in your stomach would’ve only been worsened if you’d pressured him into anything that he might’ve been uncomfortable with. 

Baby steps. The two of you had been taking baby steps in your relationship ever since you were, well… babies.

“I’m fine, Rome,” you told him, ignoring the drenched throbbing between your thighs and crawling up next to him to lay down. “You can repay me in the future.”

The haze from his orgasm was beginning to clear away. Roman’s nose buried into your sweet-smelling hair. “With, like, a fuckin’ Baskin Robbins coupon or my tongue up your vagina?”

A soft laugh and a shake of your head. “Both sound wonderful,” you told him, curling up into his warmth. A wave of sleepiness overtook you. It’d been a really long day. “Night, Rome.”

“Night, fuck-face.” 

You might’ve simply hallucinated it in your sleep-addled mind, but you could feel a faint brush of lips on your forehead, along with a whisper of thanks. You fell asleep with a smile on your face that night. Roman had taken a picture (with the flash on, which made for quite unflattering lighting) and sent it to you the next morning, giggling his amusing hyena-giggle while the two of you were in the bathroom—with you brushing your teeth and him perched up on the toilet seat lid. It was a tender moment of picturesque domesticism—a life that didn’t quite seem right for the two of you, unless it was with each other.

The rest of the weekend at the Pierce’s estate was uneventful. Everybody had gone home thinking the deal wasn’t going to go through—Shiv had told you her dad fucked everything by refusing to name her as the next CEO.

But, to everyone’s surprise except Logan’s, Nan Pierce ended up calling only a few hours later that she’d sell. You weren’t quite happy with the turn of events, but you supposed that’s just how it was with Logan. 

He always won.

Argestes, a business conference for important folk all over the world, was just under a month later. It was a rather prestigious event, the itinerary always decked with the most ludicrously rich and fanciful activities, with only limited invites handed out. 

This was to be your sixth annual year attending. 

You arrived with Roman practically draped over you, much to the press’ delight. After he made a snide comment about how manipulative you could be when it came to business, you bid him adieu, off to fraternize and mingle with potential allies you might need in your pocket. You were just grateful not to bump into Peter Pierce—the last thing you wanted to do was have him glued to your side for the rest of the weekend. 

The next day, when you’d just barely stepped out of your room, you got a frantic text from Roman. It was a link to a journal article about the cruise incidents, followed by a series of question marks and an indiscernible mash of emojis. The last text gave you the room he and his family were in. 

You rushed off to meet them there, checking your constantly buzzing phone along the way to see texts fly from dozens of people: Shiv, Gerri, your colleagues, your friends, your coworkers alike. This wasn’t a good look for the company, that was for sure. 

When you finally got there, Roman quirked a brow at you. “Have you read this? Tell me this isn’t the greyest shit you’ve ever read.”

“Give me a second, I’ve barely even woken up, much less had time to read the article.” You settled in beside him, opening up the link to begin reading. From across the room, Logan was skimming through a physical copy, glasses on the very tip of his nose as he mumbled under his breath. Shiv was on the other end, waiting for everyone to finish reading. 

Finally, you reached the end of the article, slumping back with furrowed brows. “This is, uhm, serious stuff but it’s also really unclear what’s actually being thrown at the wall here.”

“Maybe this, maybe that bullshit,” Roman uttered.

“Rome, careful,” said Kendall.

“Is this one of those things I need a woman to explain to me why it’s bad?” His head knocked into yours. “You tell me—is it bad?”

Offering him a shrug, you huffed out a sigh and scrolled all the way back up to read it again. “It’s bad, it’s fucking awful someone had to go through this—but in all honesty, I expected far worse for a journal article to blow up this much.”

Growing frustrated, Logan ripped his glasses off. “What’s the protein?”

A man you only faintly recalled as Hugo Baker, part of the Parks and Cruises sector, replied, “They found a woman, Keerson. She was working the cruises back in the mid nineties, and name-checked Lester McClintock.”

Gerri nodded. “She says Uncle Mo asked for sex with her and the other dancers to get their contracts renewed.”

“So they fucked?” Logan asked.

“It says sexual exploitation,” clarified Shiv.

“Said subject of the article is dead,” you chimed in. “So the blame on Mo will effectively be shifted onto Waystar. Negligence of ethical conduct, cruise malpractice, so on and so forth.”

A moment of silence filled the room.

“Well, what can we do about it?” Roman queried. 

Gerri said, “There’s not a lot of specifics. It’s not detailed. Cold hard facts: it’s one woman in the nineties, not twenty women four years ago.”

This made Kendall’s face sour, as he pulled the bill of his cap down lower over his face. “Great. I’m glad we’re so good at doing victim math.”

“Yeah, well, Gerri’s just saying it doesn’t necessarily punch through,” Shiv defended.

The older brother gestured to his phone. “Sure, but… this is not okay.”

“We know it’s not okay, that’s why we’re preparing a corporate response,” the redhead bit back. 

The conversation moved on to PR, which Gerri claimed to be Preston. This was met with Shiv’s vehement disapproval—they were three disgusting, old white dudes who, in her words, would just claim the women to be money-grabbing sluts.

“Call me sociopathic but isn’t this a tiny bit quaint in comparison to the past few years?” asked Roman. 

You bit down on the inside of your cheek in thought. “I think they’re hyperfixating on this right now because they see it as a gap in the chainmail. Mo is dead. He’s not around to bear the weight of blame on his shoulders.”

“We’re being punished for the sins of others,” claimed Logan. “No one real gives a fuck.”

You narrowed your eyes at the hot take. 

For once, you seemed to agree with Kendall when he shook his head. “No, no, we can’t be seen to minimize. I think we need to loudly and quickly say that this is not okay.”

“The question is, what would make it go away the fastest? Do we say it’s something and fix it, or say that it’s nothing and fuck off?” Gerri asked.

“Something,” pushed Kendall. “There has to be consequences.”

To your frustration, Shiv shook her head. “Nope. Condemn and move on. It’s just good advice.”

“Not to be the only frilly-pink feminist in the room, but this isn’t something to sweep under the rug. It may not seem that serious at first glance because of the vagueness but a few dozen women’s lives were ruined, and that’s just barely what we know because of the NDAs. If we ignore it now, it’ll come back to bite the company in the ass later down the line. The least we can do is compensate them, no?” you said, crossing your arms.

Sinking into a wooden chair that creaked beneath his weight, Logan threw his hands up. “This is bullshit. It’s all about me! It’s not real, it’s not honest. They don’t give a flying fuck for these poor bitches. They hate me! And I won’t be giving them the satisfaction of giving in. So no—condemn and move on.” 

You wanted to bury your face in your hands and scream. But you didn’t. You stood still and expressionless. 

They started discussing the panel for later that day. The original plan was for it to be Kendall and Roman up there, but having a woman up there would be much more… fitting given the well-timed article’s release. Shiv haughtily refused, but softened upon her dad asking her if she would. 

She’d think about it. 

And with that, the group began to file out. 

The hours trickled on by and before you knew it, there was only ten minutes until Roman and Kendall were supposed to go up for the panel. You were helping Rome rehearse through what he was supposed to say, even though you didn’t agree with the direction they were taking with simply condemning—it was better than not addressing it at all. 

It was all going smoothly until Shiv burst through the doors, declaring that she wanted to be up there for the panel, much to both Kendall and Roman’s dismay.

“Come on, man. It’s panicky as fuck,” said the eldest of the three. “It looks… kind of fucking cheesy, to be honest. Like we’re throwing our token woman at it? The woman who’s not even in our company?”

“Well, it can’t be two men up there right now. It just—it can’t. Right?” Shiv rounded her gaze to you, and you shrugged half-heartedly. 

“I don’t know, Shiv.”

Standing up, Hugo suggested, “Well, the audience is just expecting Roys, so—maybe we stick at two and someone relaxes.”

Logan’s gaze fell on his youngest son. “Romulus.”

“What? You want to pull me? That—that looks like a humiliation,” your friend heatedly defended. 

“We could just say you got sick,” Hugo said.

Both you and Roman made eye contact and you nodded at him to defend himself.

“No. No, you can’t just fuckin’ bump me ten minutes before the panel. That’s bullshit! Fuck that. Respectfully, dad, why is Shiv even here?” he hissed.

“I was invited,” Shiv replied in a serrated tone.

Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, no, I need to be out there. We need to hang together. You know, like, family.”

Rolling her eyes, Shiv drew herself to her full height. “Oh, so you wanna get Connor on the line, get him to come down here, too? Let him dog-pile on so no one’s nose gets put out of joint?”

“I’ll put your nose out of joint!”

“Oh, yeah, you should say that on the panel—!” Shiv pursed her lips. “If you wanna know what I really think—I think you should drop both of them and I’ll do it solo.”

This time, you were quick to say, “Shiv, I love you, but you’re not part of the company yet. To shove you up there alone would look like fucking… empty wokeness. Like we’re smothering the problem with estrogen and calling it a day.”

Roman nodded. “Pretty desperate, Shiv—exploiting the situation for personal gain, hm?”

The three siblings bickered some more until it grew quite cumbersome and repetitive. 

Two minutes until the panel.

Logan held up three fingers, and that was the end of that.

The panel was… certainly a panel.

It was a lot of dancing around the subject between Kendall and Shiv. You were pretty sure Roman had only said a grand total of two short sentences. 

“We’ll do whatever it takes, you know? We’ll do whatever anyone wants,” he had said. 

From where you were watching on a screen backstage, you face-palmed with a sigh.

By the end, Shiv had made the fatal mistake of implying that Logan should step down from his position, going so far as to call him an old dinosaur. 

It was a shitshow, painted over with glitter and rainbows. In all honesty, it was an embarrassment to even associate yourself with the company at this point. There went all your business schmoozing and fraternizing for the past two days—right down the drain.

“Nice. Bring your daughter to the slaughter. Did you tell the old dinosaur what you were going to do?” Roman asked his twin once the three siblings returned to the room you were in. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, ‘We will do whatever anyone wants?’ What the hell was that?” Kendall asked.

Shrugging, Roman clapped both his hands on your shoulders from behind, squeezing your tensed muscles. “Fuck it, right? It’s just words. There’s no press, anyway. Who gives a shit?”

It was then that Logan walked in, Marcia and Gerri in tow. Roman’s hands slipped away from you to go pour himself a drink and stand by his father.

“It was too much, Siobhan,” said their stepmother. “Dinosaurs?”

Ducking his head, Kendall nodded. “It was over the line. Shiv was over the line.”

Brows cinching, Shiv protested, “Oh, I think it was pretty clear that I was talking about—”

Roman interrupted after taking a long sip of champagne. “No, it was clear, yeah. You tortured the old dinosaur. Barbecued him alive—!”

In a blink of an eye, Logan swung around and back-handed his son straight across the jaw, bellowing out, “Don’t fuck with me!”

The hit rang loud and true across the room. Flesh on flesh, skin on skin, father to son, boot to dog.

Roman fell back with a muffled noise, and you were immediately shooting out of your seat to curl a protective arm around him, placing yourself between him and his aggrieved father. Commotion sprung out—Kendall vehemently yelling at Logan not to touch his brother as if he were a valiant hero, Gerri trying her best to quell the situation with reassuring words.

But all the noise was drowned out in your ears. It was just you and Roman.

It was like you were children all over again, watching with watery eyes as young Roman tried his best to pick himself up after Logan’s frequent beatings. You hadn’t even noticed that your eyes had welled up with a warbling film of stinging tears, heart slamming against your ribcage with staggering, uneven jolts. 

He hunched over, working his jaw and spitting into his palm a second later. 

A tooth fell past his lips, flecked with blood and spit. You could feel your lips twitch downwards as you tried your hardest not to cry.

Kendall flanked to his left, his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and Shiv stood in front of him.

“Rome—you alright?” they both asked. “You okay?”

He worked his jaw again, then shrugged off Kendall’s hand. He was in no mood to be coddled by anyone but you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fucking fine! Just fucking—leave me alone. I’m fine.” As you began to lead him away, he called over his shoulder. “It’s just a tooth. I’ll get another one.”

Once it was just the two of you in the hallway, Roman dropped the act. It hurt like hell, and he felt safe enough around you not to have to put up a front.

You tugged him into your room with a mildly haunted expression, fingers gripping far too tightly into Roman’s arm. He walked into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out. The water ran a dark shade of pink. 

As he gingerly began brushing his teeth with a spare toothbrush you handed him, you studied his reflection. He stared back, hating how worried you looked for him. 

“You want me to call a medic?” you asked, voice small. “There’s a few on site.”

Roman squinted at nothing in particular, humming. His tongue ran along the part of his gums that throbbed the most. It tasted like copper. A familiar taste. Nostalgic, even.

“No.”

“Do you need to be alone?”

“Fuck, no.”

You rolled a tissue into a tightly-packed bundle, telling him to bite down on it to stop the bleeding. He did as you told, but not without complaining about it tasting like ass. It actually tasted like nothing, but Roman wanted to make you smile. He hated seeing you so worked up.

With that, the two of you made your way out of the bathroom. You made him sit down on your bed and wrapped your arms around him, clinging onto him like a koala to a tree trunk. The both of you slowly kicked off layers of your clothes, trying your best not to break hold of each other in the process. Shoes first, then jackets, then pants, then button-ups.

You were left in a dark short sleeve and your underwear, and he’d tossed off all his clothes except his boxers. 

“The Argie awards are in an hour,” said Roman. His lips brushed against your collarbone as he rested his forehead onto the slope of your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have stripped down to nearly nothing if I was planning on going.”

“You’re gonna miss dinner. You’ll starve to death—and you won’t be allowed to blame me for it.”

“I have a banana somewhere in here. Plus—room service is only a call away.”

“Mmh. Mmkay.”

The tooth was still curled inside his clenched fist. 

“Wait,” you murmured against him, crawling off his lap to grapple for your wallet that you’d left on the nightstand. Roman murmured unhappily at the loss of warm contact, rubbing his palms up and down your legs. “I don’t really carry cash around these days but… I always keep a few spare coins in here.”

He watched as you fished through the slits, brandishing first a dime, then a nickel. Another dime.

Then you pulled out a quarter, grinning widely.

“I’m supposed to slip this under your pillow while you’re sleeping, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me get up for the rest of the night,” you whispered, crawling back to him and throwing a leg over his waist. He curled his own legs around you as well, leaning his weight into you. His head throbbed, his jaw throbbed harder, his heart throbbed the most. 

The cool metal of the quarter fell into his free hand. Then, he unfurled his fist. You stared down at the bloody tooth with unsure eyes.

“You have pretty teeth,” you told him after snapping out of your initial frozen state, pressing your nose into his uninjured cheek. “Even when we were kids, you had the prettiest pearly whites.”

Roman smiled, even though it ached to. “I remember you chased me around for my tooth once. Like a fucking freak.”

“Hm. You loved it, Romey.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he said, trying his best to be dismissive. Then, he craned his arm to place the tooth on the nightstand. 

You yawned, and he followed closely after you.

“It’s only eight at night. We’re falling asleep at fuckin’... fucking granny hour,” he grumbled.

A giggle, cut off by another yawn. “I don’t blame us. It’s been a long day. Sweet dreams, Romeo.”

“Night, fuck-face.”

“You know I love you, right?” you whispered. A light kiss to his throat as he swallowed.

“Obviously. You’re infatuated with me. Obsessed, even.”

If one was infatuated-slash-obsessed with the other, it’d most certainly be Roman.

You hummed and grinned into him. You didn’t deny his words, merely huffing with amusement. “I’m going to take your tooth and sell it on EBay for a hundred bucks.”

I’m fucking in love you, he wanted to scream.

“Fuck off,” he said. “It’s worth a million bucks at least. Shut up—stop fucking smiling, you freak. Go to sleep.”

You settled against him some more, and drifted off a few minutes later, listening to his heart beat from his throat.

You weren’t entirely sure what had transpired during the last few hours of Argestes, but there was one thing made clear: Nan Pierce had called off the acquisition entirely. You had no idea what to think of the entire situation anymore. You were just… tired of it all.

Not long after, a team had called you in to record a video message for Logan’s big fiftieth anniversary at Waystar. You were given very little time to figure out what to say, and so your message was short and sweet:

“Hey, Uncle Logan. I think we all owe you a bit of gratitude for giving half a century of your life to the large, ever-expanding field we call media. You’ve always been a constant figure in my life—heh, more constant than my own parents. I couldn’t imagine where I’d be without you. Congratulations, and I look forward to the next fifty years working by your side.”

It wasn’t over the top, and only slightly sugar-coated with falsities. 

Once you stepped out of the recording booth, Roman shot you a grin. “Cocksucker,” he teased. “There you go—something you and Rhea can bond over.”

You prodded his chest with stiff fingers. “Shut up,” you fondly told him.

“How’d you even get all that in one fucking take? They had me say ‘I love you, Dad’, like, ten times in a row.”

Before you could retort back, the two of you bumped into Shiv, who was typing away furiously at her phone. 

“What do you guys reckon—you think Dad is boning Rhea?” she asked.

With a snort, Roman strode away to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Can’t wrap my head around that. Too steamy. Too hot.”

“You are a walking Freudian complex, you know that, Ro?” you asked him, bumping his hips with yours so he’d move over as you fixed your own drink. “I don’t wanna think about it, honestly. Who my godfather fucks is really none of my business.”

“You’re just jealous. You want daddykins all to yourself!” said Roman in a sing-song voice, which made you purposefully step onto his toes. “OW!”

The hot coffee jostled over the rim of his cup and some of it sloshed onto his chest. He sent you a glare and you kissed his cheek with a sweet smile before moving off to sit next to Connor.

“Yeah, yeah, but we should, like, talk about what this means. We’re… we’re all sensing the shift, right?” asked Shiv.

“Gerri says she’s the new thing,” said Roman as he took a seat beside you, obnoxiously leaning back to drape both his legs over your thighs.

Connor lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, it just so happens that Gerri was the new thing a while back.”

“Mmh—Logan made it clear that she was more or less there as a placeholder,” you said, sipping on your cup, watching the siblings over the rim. “Come on—there’s no way Logan is handing the company over to a woman, much less a woman older than fifty. It’s a shame, because Gerri really could’ve been a great CEO had she been given an actual chance.”

It didn’t go past your notice to see Shiv’s face contort with dismay at your words. Not too long ago, she’d been under the impression that Logan was handing the company over to a woman—her. 

“I just think we need to be careful,” she said.

“Awh, what’s wrong? You all wedgied up because Rhea stood on your back and worked your arms like an elliptical?” asked Roman, which made both you and Connor snort with amusement.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, we should probably have a plan. You know, in case Dad does something rash.”

It was then that Connor was called away to record his message, and Kendall sauntered in just a minute later. His jacket and pants were noticeably rumpled and a pair of sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Only assholes like Kendall would wear sunglasses indoors.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted everyone.

“You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday—you want us to think you got laid. Nice try.” Both you and Roman giggled like schoolgirls, which only had the older man rolling his eyes. 

“Well, have fun discussing killing Rhea—” you began.

“There wasn’t anything about killing—” protested Shiv.

“I’m gonna head out. Gotta get some work done before the flight to Dundee. Which, is so fucking over the top, by the way. Even my parents are going for this. They weren’t there for any of my birthdays in the past twenty years, but sure, let’s go to Uncle Logan’s celebration for his fiftieth year working at Waystar.” You nudged Roman’s legs off of yours so you could stand up. 

Rome’s eyes widened. “Your parents are coming? Damn. Rhea really went all out, didn’t she?”

You frowned. “Feels more like a personal affront to me than anything. Not looking forward to seeing them, but whatever. See you guys later.”

They all murmured their farewells and you patted Roman’s knee softly before heading out.

Dundee was cold. So cold that you had to wear two layers of thermal socks, and your toes were still cold. Roman made fun of you the entire way into the hotel room, joking about icicles forming beneath your chin. 

Once you were finally inside, you cranked your heater up as high as it could go, shedding all your layers off with a grateful moan. It’d been a long flight, and you were exhausted.

Roman laid down on your bed, lazily turning his head to follow your movements as you flitted to and fro around your room, unpacking your essentials.

“There’s better ways to warm up than hanging your wrinkled button-ups,” he quipped. One of his brows quirked upwards in an almost seductive manner.

You laughed at that, fishing out articles of clothing from your luggage. “You’re all bark and no bite, Roman. Besides—you literally brought Tabitha to this event. Where even is she, anyway?”

With a shrug, he remarked absentmindedly, “Oh, she’s off exploring all the joys of Scotland.”

“So… grass and sheep?”

He laughed his hyena-laugh. “Yeah, grass and sheep.” Then, he propped himself up on an elbow to face you properly. “Did you bring a date?”

“Ugh. Didn’t want to bring one. Not with my parents coming. It’ll be a nightmare.”

Something in Roman’s eyes softened. “I would’ve been your date if, uh, if I hadn’t already asked Tabs. To be fair, I asked her before I knew about your parents. I can kick her back to America right now if you ask.”

You paused in your ministrations. “Stop it. I like Tabs. She’s nice. And I wouldn’t have wanted you to be my date out of pity, anyway.”

Roman lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug, lips pursed. “It wouldn’t be pity if I wanted to.”

A beat of silence. 

You blew out a sigh. “I’m really here for the image. I’ll say hi to my parents, and then avoid them for the rest of the night.”

“I can help you with avoiding them.”

“Hm?”

“Gerri wants me to secure funding for Waystar to go private. As a… back up plan, in case everything combusts into fuckin’ flames. She wants me to target Eduard. Seduce him, or whatever. You can come with—butter him up with all your oozy corporate rank and that—that pretty face on your face. He wouldn’t be able to resist if we double-combo him.” Roman shot you a lopsided smile that only lifted one corner of his lips. You pushed away the urge to coo at the fact that he called your face pretty. “Or… you can flit around with all of Dad’s cocksuckers and awkwardly bump into your parents two hundred times before the waterworks break out and you make an embarrassment of yourself in the middle of the celebration.”

Done with putting away your clothes, you made your way to the bed and sat down beside him, your shoulder pressed up flush over his. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Rome. Yeah, of course I’ll come.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can repay me with a blowjob.”

You laughed, but a small part of you wondered if he was serious.

“Any other ways I can repay you? None that could, uhm, potentially warrant a lawsuit?”

Roman scratched at his chin in thought. “Yeah, actually—what if we got, like, married?” His voice went all soft and high-pitched. Lilting. Tentative. 

Your eyes widened at first, then narrowed thinly. “What?” you asked, partially incredulous. He was joking, right?

Right?

“Not like—” He gestured aimlessly. “Not like that. Not actual marriage. Like something equivalent to that—like me chaining you down in the basement, or something. Like me kidnapping you and keeping you hostage.”

“Romeo, what the hell are you talking about?” You sat forward, your face all the closer to his. “In what world is that equivalent to marriage?”

Nervous anxiety clawed within his stomach. “Jesus Christ, I’m not talking about marriage. Just something on that fucking level of us being tied together. I don’t know, you chop off my dick, I chop off your tongue, whatever the fuck. You know, like, you eat me, I eat you—like they do in Germany.”

You were pretty sure that’s not what they did in Germany.

“You know what I mean.” His eyes were pleading, asking you for something you weren’t quite sure of.

“I… I don’t think I do?” You took one of his hands. “Rome, what’s going on? You’re being… weirder than normal. Did something happen with Tabitha?”

Because he was in love with you and he had no idea how to say it. 

The answer to Roman was simple: he just wouldn’t.

Hastily, Roman pulled away from your touch. He rolled off the bed in one single motion, almost tumbling over his own feet as he scrambled to the door. He tried to ignore your crestfallen expression watching him put more distance between the two of you.

“No, nothing happened with Tabitha. Just, uh—just think about it. I’ll text you the details to meet Eduard. Bye!” He was already halfway out the door with his last word.

You screwed your lips to the side in puzzled exasperation, and blew out a heavy sigh.

The pub was nearly empty, save for a snogging couple near the back, and a few scattered about the seats casually sipping their ale as they watched the soccer match on the mounted television above the bar. Amongst them was Eduard, standing out like a sore thumb with his crisp suit and his dark, slicked-back hair. Just the sight of him seemed to cost money.

“My God, you smell like cotton candy—I almost want to lick your neck. Don’t you want to lick his neck, Y/N?” Roman asked instead of greeting him like any regular person would.

You shot him a half-hearted glare before sticking your hand out. Roman had always been one to overstep boundaries. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Asgarov.”

“Oh, please, Eduard is fine. And the pleasure is all mine,” he languidly drawled, eyes darting up and down your form as a pleased smile curled the corner of your lips. He firmly clasped your palm in a handshake. “I’ve heard much about you—general manager… the glue of the company, some people say. But Roman never mentioned that you were so beautiful.”

A large part of Roman’s insides bristled with hostility, an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he plastered on a strained smile anyway. “Yup, yeah, forgot to mention. But, uh, yeah, thanks for coming, man. My dad’s going to be very pleased when he sees old friends and whatnot…” He waved the bartender over to order himself a pint, and added on a non-alcoholic beverage for you—he knew you didn’t like to drink during the day. Then, he caught sight of the television. “What’s this? Who’s playing?”

“Scottish,” replied Eduard, taking a sip of his own beer. “I’m thinking of getting in.”

 Your eyebrows raised a notch. “Mmh, smart choice. Lots of buried money in European soccer leagues.”

Eduard spared you a warm smile.

A frown crossed Roman’s features—he was starting to regret inviting you, even though he’d been the one to suggest you flirt him up. 

“Scottish kicky-ball,” he remarked. “Looks like two eunuchs trying to fuck a letterbox.”

His foul comment went largely ignored by the two of you. 

Eduard was certainly an attractive man, you thought once you watched his tongue draw out to run along his lips in thought. “I’m liking the look of Hibs,” he said, eyes trained on the television, flitting down to glance at you for a second. “Or Hearts. I’m undecided.”

“Hearts?” asked Roman. “That’s my dad’s team. The only childhood relic he can stomach.”

Hazy memories of seven-year-old you peeking over the expensive leather couches to see what your godfather was watching on screen came across your mind. It always cycled through the same three channels: ATN, soccer, and old black-and-white English films from the fifties. You never stayed for long, always darting out of the room in fear of him turning to see you there, watching along with him. But from the little that you did catch a glimpse of—you could only barely recall the green insignias and jerseys of the Hibs on the screen.

“I think he was a Hibs fan, no?” you asked, thanking the bartender when he slid your drink over. 

Roman scoffed. “Pfft—I think I’d know which team dad likes.” You didn’t bother trying to argue with him. After all, your childhood memories weren’t exactly the most reliable source.

With a half-minded hum, Eduard said, “I’ve got an agent in Spain. I buy the club, he loans me nine shit-hot players. Climb the ladder, take the second Champion’s League space, UEFA goes full European super-league, flip it, walk away.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds fucking slick, dude,” Roman replied, sipping on the frothy part of his drink. “Slicker than cum on a dolphin’s back.”

“You want in?” asked Eduard.

“Mmh, maybe. But before all that—can we talk about what we talked about before? You know, a major injection, or even taking us private. Have you talked to your dad?” asked Roman. 

A smile and a nod. “It’s a conversation we can have—I have total, three-sixty latitude to work on my father’s behalf.”

“Great. Yeah, cool. No, me too. Yup.”

He didn’t, but you wisely kept your mouth shut. 

“Weird, how much we’re the same,” said Roman, playfully punching Eduard’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you guys are practically twins,” you quipped, smiling over the rim of your glass. “Couldn’t tell the two of you apart.”

The dark-haired man tilted his head. “Buy them with me. We’ll split it fifty-fifty.”

“I, uh…” Roman spared you a look, silently asking you if he was being stupid with his rashness. “I don’t really see a downside, other than zero knowledge or interest in Scottish football. But, yeah! Hearts. Sounds fun.”

“Hibs,” you said.

Roman wrinkled his nose. “Hearts.”

“Hearts, it is,” said Eduard.

It wasn’t Hearts. 

After Kendall’s laughable rap song about—what was it—stanning his dad and calling him the OG, Roman had broken the news that he’d bought the Hearts club as a present for Logan on such a special day.

Logan fixed the three of you with a blank stare. 

“The Hearts?” he echoed.

Roman spread his arms, wiggling the tips of his finger in a sad rendition of jazz hands. “Mhm.”

“Hearts Football Club?”

Roman nodded.

Shiftily, Logan looked towards you. He always looked to you for clarification when he couldn’t understand his son—which was quite often.

“Uhm, Roman bought the Hearts for you,” you said, voice small.

“It’s your team, right?” Rome asked.

A beat of silence.

“I’m Hibs,” said your godfather.

You fucking knew it.

“You’re Hibs,” parroted Roman, his shoulders beginning to droop. “Really? Are you sure? I thought you were Hearts—I’m pretty sure you were Hearts, dad.”

Scratching at his chin, Logan softly said, “You know what, maybe you’re right. Hm. How would I know what team I’ve supported all my fucking life? Who knows—maybe I supported Kilmarnock. Or Fucklechester Rangers? I mean, how could I possibly know?”

Roman recoiled as if he’d been kicked. Eduard patted his shoulder, and brushed his hand along your lower back as he slipped away, chest burning with secondhand embarrassment. 

“Sorry, Uncle Logan, there’s just been a, uh, a miscommunication—” you said, hastily tugging Roman away. The two of you wove through the crowd until you got out of the large room, into one of the quieter halls. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, watching Roman frustratedly pace back and forth in front of you. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he snapped out, “I thought he was fucking Hearts, dude!”

“... I told you, Ro.”

He scowled. “Ugh. Shut up.”

Before you could ask if he could maybe switch somehow, two figures pushed through the doors, coming to stand in front of you. You tore your gaze away from the flustered man, fixing your eyes on—

Fuck.

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N,” said your mother. In her hand was a glass of wine, half empty. “You’ve grown quite a bit. Have you gained weight?”

She reached out, but you immediately stepped back, closer to Roman. 

After getting over your initial shock, you cleared your throat and tentatively responded, “Hi, mom. Dad.”

The couple gave you an awkward onceover. It’d been years since you last saw them, with maybe one or two texts exchanged every year for the holidays. Though, even that wasn’t a guarantee.

“We, uhm, we saw you rush out with Roman here and thought we’d say hello,” said your father, sparing you a terse smile.

“Wow.” Roman, unsurprisingly, inserted himself into the conversation. “And the parents of the year award goes to…”

“You thought you’d say hello. Jesus—I haven’t seen either of you in fucking forever and the first thing you do is nitpick at my appearance?” you growled, fists clenching by your side. “Listen, if you want to be in my life, then be in my life. But you can’t pretend that everything is okay when you see me and then promptly waltz off and disappear for another decade or two.”

Your mother sipped at her wine, at a loss for words. They glanced at each other, both wearing a mildly guilty expression, but had really nothing to defend themself with.

With an angry scoff, you stormed back into the room where Logan was about to give his closing speech, shoulder roughly knocking into your father’s as you brushed past him. 

Roman scratched the back of his head, left alone with your parents. 

“For the record, Y/N is doing fucking great without either of you. You know—crunching those numbers, being a goddamn messiah for the lower-level employees, fucking the boss. All that jazz.” He grinned and hum-laughed when their eyes widened in shock, and sauntered in after you. It wasn’t exactly that white of a lie. You’d given him a handjob and the two of you technically had phone sex—would those two activities put together constitute as one whole traditional, in-person fuck?

He’d come in to stand beside you and Tabitha just in time to hear his father make the announcement.

“... And I shall be appointing Rhea Jarrell as my Chief Executive Operator.”

The crowd burst into applause. Roman clapped with a faux-surprised expression. When he glanced at you, you were wiping the corner of your eyes with the back of your palm and hastily clapped along.

Once the cheers began to mellow away, Roman stopped clapping to lace his fingers through the gaps of yours, squeezing tight. Your eyes watered even more at the contact, but you squeezed back in gratitude.

There was an interview of  James Weissel on the television: a whistleblowing interview tossing Gerri, Kendall, and Tom into the stinking shitpot that was the cruise incidents, accusing the three of covering up McClintock’s actions. Logan had shut it off before anybody could finish watching.

Whilst everyone was busy prattling off about how bad of a situation this was, Gerri seemed to be the one lighthouse amidst the storm.

“I say we tell the truth,” she calmly said, adjusting her glasses to sit higher up her nose. “The family knew nothing of this. We throw Mo overboard. Mo, bad apple. Jim Weasel, bad apple. Spies a book deal—sotto voce, backed by Sandy and Stewy. All corporate fuckery, no real concern. In terms of historic shit? I say we give up Bill. He should’ve let us know what he discovered rather than cleaning up without telling us the details.”

Bill had been the old Tom before Tom was, well, Tom.

And so there was the strategy: letting Bill take the fall, and kill him off. It wasn’t… a decision you necessarily felt good about, but it was the least messy the situation could be.

Things felt like they’d be smoothed over, just for a little bit.

But then Siobhan came in, phone clutched tightly in her hand. “Gil is going to call for hearings.”

This stirred up quite a murmur in the room. Both Kendall and Frank sat up in their seats with incredulous questions on the tip of their tongues.

“Yeah, Senate Commerce. Probably House, too.” 

Gerri was on her phone in an instant. “Buckle up folks,” she said while scrolling through the news. “We’re going to get an invite to the national latrine. See who’s going to take a public dump.”

“Mr. Fuck is going to Washington,” Shiv sighed.

It was then that Logan let out an ear-splitting bellow of rage. It shocked both you and Roman into flinching. 

“NO! I CAN’T HAVE THIS NOW!” he screamed in distress.

There was a long moment of silence. 

In a leveled tone, you asked Shiv, “Who’s testifying?”

“Uh, well… well, they’d want Dad.”

Kendall quickly protested, “No, we can’t—we won’t let that happen—”

“Protect the egg chamber!” said Roman. Nobody could quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not. 

It was then that Hugo suggested Gerri and Tom to testify. The group went back and forth for a little while longer on what the play would be, but it was quite clear that everybody was already settled with Gerri and Tom going up there. 

To your surprise, Logan called for you and Roman out of the room. 

A part of you wondered if he’d beat Roman over the head with his fancy business shoe for buying the wrong soccer team. You certainly wouldn’t put it past him, especially in his already-agitated state. 

“I need both of your help,” he told the two of you once you were out of the room, lingering by the foot of the pristine staircase. 

“Need someone to run to the store for smokes?” Roman asked, his hands propped on his hips.

“This’ll go on all night… and it might not be okay,” your godfather said.

This made you tilt your head. “Will this really sway the shareholders into folding? It happened under our noses three decades ago, and the perpetrator is dead.”

“The very fact that we’re being called to testify will spook the shareholders. I’m on a knife’s edge.” He grunted softly as he lowered himself to sit on one of the lower steps of the cold staircase. “Ten bad minutes on camera, and that could be it. The end.”

Roman’s brows raised. “The end? Come on, Dad.”

“I need the two of you to chase down the sovereign wealth money,” said Logan.

You and Roman glanced at one another. Was he being serious? 

“Right. Uhm… I mean—that’s… it’s a cool idea, but it’d be a stretch, no?” Roman tentatively brought up. 

Logan leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his elbows, which were resting upon his knees. Though he had made himself physically smaller, he’d always be the biggest presence in the room. “We need that central Asian money. It’s a time out from the responsibilities of being a public company. That’s a fucking lifeline, if I’ve ever seen one.”

“They’d be taking on a massive amount of debt. That’s a… huge responsibility, Uncle Logan.” 

The older man snorted. “Which is why I’m making you go with him. Make sure he doesn’t fuck up. Keep it under wraps. And bring Karl and Laird with you, as well, for the financial matters.” There was a pause as he studied the two of you. “Can you do it?”

Roman scratched anxiously at the back of his head. “Fuck, Dad, I want to say I can. But, I’ll be honest—if it’s, like, really important… I mean, I can say I can do it—like one of those firefighters in the movies. But I don’t know if—”

“You act the fuckleknuckle, but you know… people like you.” 

There it was. A narrow slant of light. It wasn’t real—at least, you didn’t think it was—but it was warmth regardless.

Roman’s features twisted. “It’s a really big fucking deal.”

“Nah. It’s getting the right number from the right suit. Getting your dick in there is easy. Getting into bed—that’s the hard part,” said his father. “You can do it. Both of you can.”

You scuffed your shoe against the floor just as Roman’s nose twitched. 

“Yeah. Sure, dad, I got it.”

Logan pushed himself off the staircase, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. The light was warm, and far too addicting. He smiled softly. 

It wasn’t real, you had to remind yourself. It’s never real. But did that really matter? Did it?

“You’re brilliant, my dear. A real force to reckon with. I trust you to hammer the nail right on its head,” he said. 

You swallowed harshly. “I hope we won’t disappoint, Uncle.”

When he pulled away, he began to make his way towards the doors once more. “Keep me close,” he said. 

And with that, he was gone.

Roman let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

“Why does it feel like we just dug our own graves? I feel like I’ve got fuckin’ dirt in my eyes,” he lamented just as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You know, if the company ever kills you off, I’ll quit. I don’t know how I’d do it around here without you.”

“All bark, still no bite,” you quietly told him. “You wouldn’t leave the company. Not on your own free will.”

Like a caged dog: it was only able to escape if their owner opened the door for them.

“I’ll kill myself if they kill you. I mean it—I’ll eat a fucking silver bullet.”

“How romantic.”

“Mhm—we’re like fuckin’... Romeo and Juliet.”

He smiled, and so did you.

“C’mon. Let’s go watch the grown-ass men I bought kick around balls for a bit,” said Roman.

Eduard greeted you at the soccer team’s practice field with a kiss on the cheek, Roman with a firm handshake. 

“It’s good to see you,” you told him with a genuine smile. 

“Good to see you guys, too,” he replied. His expression was well-guarded behind a pair of dark shades. “With everything I’ve heard going down at Waystar, I was surprised you even showed up.”

With a shrug, Roman said, “I have nothing better to do, I promise. I’m gonna cut right to the chase here—do you think there’s any chance you guys have the muscle to take us private? Is that something that’s interesting to you and your dad?”

With nearly no hesitation, Eduard bobbed his head in an affirmative.

Shocked, Karl asked, “Really? That’s…”

Eduard spared the older man half of a grin. “Yes, we’re interested. It’ll look good as part of our portfolio, and we like the news expertise you can share.” Just as Laird began spewing off details to tell Logan, Eduard cut him off by saying, “Actually, Roman, Y/N—can you guys do it? The two of you make quite a team. You and your… bum-boys here can come to Turkey tomorrow? Pitch to me and my Dad?”

You and Roman exchanged earnest glances, as if speaking to each other telepathically. You were sure you could push back your work at Waystar for a few days to settle the privatizing deal. 

“Absolutely. I think we can definitely do that,” said Rome, with a pleased hum. Then, he turned back to fix his gaze on Laird and Karl. “Ain’t that right, bum-boys?”

 “Why Turkey?” you asked, brows raising. “I mean, I can pitch to you anywhere, but why, you know, all the way across the ocean?”

“There’s an investing conference in Bursa. Everyone will be there—we can get into it. Unless you have any objections…?”

Hastily, you shook your head. “No, no. This is great. Thanks for the opportunity.”

“No problem,” said Eduard, watching the ball fly across the field, landing into the goal. “I like you guys. Really.”

The coach called for the team to huddle up, allowing for the owners to say a few words. A part of you wondered if Rome even remembered the name of the FC he had bought.

“Great session, guys. And listen, for Saturday, you have the ability, you have the mentality. Watch that press doesn’t leave you exposed on the turnover, and you fucking got this. Rome?” Eduard turned to your friend, who hadn’t really prepared anything to say.

Roman fixed you with a panicked look, but you nudged him forward with a purse of you lips.

Scratching the back of his head, he awkwardly started, “Uh, yeah, hey guys! Really proud to be associated with all of you. Uh, well, what the fuck can I tell you that you don’t already know? You, uh, you got all this guys, don’t worry about it. ‘Cause you guys are a team, and, uh, when a team… is a team… it can’t actually physically be beaten. It’s impossible. So, go hard, go fast—uh, go you… lovely bastards.” The team glanced at each other and began to awkwardly clap, before Rome looked to you and said, “Anything else you want to add?”

“Me?” you hissed under your breath. “Rome, I’m not an owner—”

“Just say something—!” he whispered back, yanking you forward by the arm.

Stiff, you waved at the litter of sweaty, jerseyed men in front of you. “Hi. Yeah, I’m sure you guys know I’m not one of the team’s owners, but I was there during the business negotiations as Roman’s, uh… co-partner. All I can do now is wish you all the best of luck for your next match—get some rest, eat some good food, keep your eyes on the prize. And if any of you want to get in touch with Waystar Royco for any sort of PR pitches to get your face out there… Coach will have me and Roman’s contact details.” With a smile, you stepped back, shoulder brushing against Roman’s.

“Fuck you,” he muttered bitterly. “Did you rehearse that in your head or something? How’d you manage to perfectly squeeze business into a fucking pep talk?”

You grinned and pinched his cheek lightly. “Go hard and go fast, you lovely bastard,” you mocked, voice rife with fondness, chortling when he swatted your hand away.

Before you knew it, you and Roman (and the bum-boys) were in Turkey, pitching to Eduard and his team. You had tried practicing a little the night before, but Roman had tossed all the flashcards away out of part-frustration and part-cockiness, assuring you that things would be fine. 

Now, as he was speaking, he seemed pretty confident in his own words. The two of you made a good team, after all.

“Look at the cash flow,” said Roman. “We are undervalued. I think tech just had everybody shitting their pants about legacy media, but really, the wheel turns.”

You nodded with an emphatic smile. “It’s true. No matter how much content moves to streaming sites, people will always want to look for something physical. Something you can feel and experience outside of home—hence Waystar’s adventure parks, and films to experience in theaters.” You made great effort to skirt around the touchy subject of cruises at the moment. 

“Most tech is overvalued. We’re profitable. We’re real money,” Roman added, growing more assured of himself with your support. 

“Tech is always changing. Invest in one thing, and it’ll be outdated in a blink of an eye. Invest in things people will always need: news, broadcasting, life experiences… now that’s reliable.” Eduard flashed you a smile, as if he was already sold.

“This is a tremendous opportunity,” said Rome. “This is once in a lifetime. You get to buy into the US media landscape at the very top. The very top.”

Two of the men leaned forward to whisper indistinctly to one another. 

“It’s a lot of debt,” one of them said once he finally pulled away. “You sure you can pull it together?”

“Absolutely sure,” Roman said with a mild laugh, knowing things with money and debt were quite rocky at the moment, before pointing back at Laird. “Jaime here is the fucking master of leverage. He has structured some of the biggest LBOs in history.”

“Guilty as charged,” said the older man.

Before anyone could say anything else, the doors to the room opened, and a few men filed in, murmuring indistinctly to the security. Your brows pulled together upon seeing guns strapped to their forms.

Roman exchanged a worried look with you.

“Are they, uh… are they with you?” he asked Eduard, who got up off his seat to speak to them in hushed tones.

“Rome, they have guns,” you murmured as you placed a hand on his forearm, glancing back at Karl and Laird. “What’s going on?”

The atmosphere seemed to chill when Eduard turned back to the four of you.

“Hey, look, we’re good. We’re good. But, uh… we’re all gonna go with these gentlemen now, okay?” He raised his hands in an almost placating manner, as if trying to tame a nervous mare. 

 Roman pointed at the armed men. “We’re going with them?” He laughed nervously, wondering if this was one big, elaborate joke. “Uh, no… I don’t think we—uh, who are these guys, exactly?”

Genuine fear began to curdle in your stomach when you watched the security walk out. “Dave just walked out. Hey, Eduard? I just—I need you to be honest with me. Are we in danger right now?”

Eduard worked his jaw in thought. “We’re just going to go with them now. Okay? It’ll be fine.”

“No, uh, I just—Can I just ask what this is in regards to?” Roman stepped in, high-strung. “Is this about the meeting? Is this a business thing?” 

Did I fuck it up and put a loaded gun to my own head? he wanted to say, but bit his tongue before he could.

With a sharp tone, you asked, “Our security guy, Dave, he just walked out with them. Where’d he go? Is he coming back?”

“Dave’s not coming,” said Eduard with pursed lips.

“He’s not coming?” Roman parroted. “Uhm… I would actually really like for Dave to come?”

“Dave is downstairs, we’ll go without him,” Eduard said in a calm tone. “Dave is a security risk. It’s better with these guys, okay?”

“Well, I know Dave, and I sure as hell don’t know these guys so… I think I’d prefer Dave—” you began to say, but was quickly cut off when Eduard put a hand on your shoulder and began leading your tense form out the room, Roman hot on your heels.

“It’s all good. It’s all under control,” Eduard murmured, though you highly doubted it. “There could be a situation, but we’re being looked after.”

A frown crossed Roman’s expression. “Oh, great. We’re being looked after. Fucking great. Laird—can you call Dave?”

They pulled out their phones, but the vested men with guns took the devices away just as quickly as it was pulled out. One stood in front of you with an expectant expression, and you complied with no resistance, handing him your phone, though not without a scowl.

“Great. They took my phone, and now I can’t contact my security, and now we’re going to die,” Roman said. When you looked at him, you could see genuine, restless fear dance over his irises. You didn’t quite know what to say, so you simply squeezed his arm as the two of you walked along.

The armed men led all of you to a crowded hotel lobby, where there seemed to be more hostages, more armed folk in similar attire. 

“Fuck,” Roman mumbled under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t business, is it?”

“Doesn’t look very business-y,” replied Karl.

When someone passed by and their gun brushed against your arm, you flinched back into Roman, your lips pulling back in a snarl. “Eduard. Fuck—Eduard, where the fuck are you taking us?”

“Just relax. This is normal,” he said, shiftily.

Roman scoffed. “Oh, yeah. This feels really fucking normal. Is this—are these guys terrorists? Where’s my fucking security guy? Where’s Dave?”

For a moment, Eduard seemed at a loss for words. You could feel dread pile up in your stomach. “It’s just… it’s an administrative action function,” he reluctantly said.

“Mm, yeah, great, and what exactly is that—?” Roman began to ask, before halting his own question when he trained his gaze on a struggle across the lobby. “Oh, wow, look at that. Guy not being allowed to leave the hotel at gunpoint. That’s—uh, yeah. So what’s… what’s this administrative action function?”

Pursing his lips, Eduard finally fessed up, “There’s just a gathering here now, of us and some other investors, and—”

“Men with guns?” Roman impatiently chirped.

“Yeah, yeah, that, and their guys are some kind of… anti-corruption kind of guys and this is like—it’s like their conference. Or, uh, a party of some sort. And we’re all invited.”

Your eye twitched. “That’s really lovely, but uh, what if I don’t want to go?”

A scream from somewhere over the crowd echoed through the lobby. Glass shattering followed soon after. Karl paled and he anxiously picked at a hangnail.

Eduard sighed. “It’s the kind of party where you have to go. It would be… rude.”

Roman stared at the ground, at nothing in particular. “Well, uh, I guess I wouldn’t mind being just a tiny bit rude.”

It was becoming more and more clear that no amount of protests or questions would get you out of this situation—not with every exit manned by armed personnel. The hostages in the hotel were soon herded into a large hall, empty save for bare white chairs for people to sit on. Eduard was led into a different room, and you briefly wondered if that’d be the last time you ever saw him.

You blew out a breath as you took a seat. Roman was quick to snare Laird into playing a multitude of games, like rock, paper, scissors, eye spy, and fuck, marry, kill. You didn’t pay much attention to them, instead trying to figure out what you’d do with yourself once you got out of this situation. One thing was for sure: your therapist was going to have a field day hearing this. 

“Where do you think they’re taking them?” you asked the men beside you when they began grabbing hostages and shoving them out the doors. 

“Doesn’t look like they’re gonna be taking a tour of the spa,” said Laird.

“My advice,” Karl huffed, looking awfully sweaty, “just don’t look at anything. If you don’t look, you’re not a witness.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Wonderful. Brilliant advice, Karl. At least you didn’t tell me to just take it if they decided to shove their dicks into my mouth.”

“Woah!” exclaimed Roman, eyes widening. “That’s not going to happen. Right? That can’t happen.”

You spared him a shrug, slumping back against the chair. Though, you were quick to sit up straight again when Eduard emerged from the doors, making a bee-line for you and Roman.

“Hey, guys. It’s all good. Things are good. So, uh, my president’s daughter’s husband has asked him to take closer control of some key assets. It’s anti-corruption, but it’s a bit of a power-grab. Some Turkish acquiescence, but it’s all in play.”

If you had to be honest, you understood very little of what he was saying. Whether it was because of your panic-hazed mind, or because he was merely being ambiguous, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Not to, uh, make this all about us…” began Roman, tentative, “but are they going to shoot us at any point?”

“No one is getting shot,” assured the bearded man. “Look, it’s complicated, but with the Zeynal here—there’s some interest about the deal.”

Deal? 

Both you and Roman glanced at each other. 

“Uh, fuck. Okay. The deal, sure,” said Rome.

“One thing they wanted clarity on was—how could they be sure the deal wouldn’t be blocked by your government?” Eduard asked.

You stuck your tongue against your cheek when Roman shook his head, “Well, it wouldn’t. My father has a lot of sway. I mean, he can’t lock up his opponents in a hotel, but, well, he kinda could.”

“And you’re the target of another bid? Won’t that be a problem?”

Sandy and Stewy. “Not a problem,” you quickly said. “They’re all bark, very little bite. If the price is right, we can easily reach a settlement before the shareholder meeting.”

With a nod, Eduard patted your knee, and he got up to leave—talk to his associates once more. 

“That went well,” said Laird, mildly surprised. 

“Yeah… a little too well,” Roman mused.

Hours later, Eduard returned, calling for the four of you to follow him.

It was a pitch. A messy pitch—one you clearly weren’t in the right mindspace for. One where the audience had clear smudges of coke lining their nostrils, dusting their tables. One that had a lot of money thrown into the empty promises, accompanied by high smiles and wandering eyes. It made you feel sick, and Roman clearly wasn’t a fan of it, either. Laird seemed to be satisfied with the mutual agreements, though. He heard money, and he immediately thought he was safe.

But the agreements didn’t feel quite real. None of it felt real. It was all bullshit, you wanted to yell at their face. Being held at gunpoint to play business in front of the coked out billionaires was not your preferred method of saving the company, especially when none of the settlements felt cemented. This wasn’t safe money to bet the entire company on—it might’ve not been money at all, in fact.

By the end of everything, the ambassador had arranged for a plane to finally get you out of the country. You fell asleep as soon as you sat down in your seat, the long hours going without sleep finally catching up to you. Roman curled up in the seat beside you, his head on your shoulder. He stayed awake the entire flight, listening to your steady breaths.

The Mediterranean. The Roys were on a fancy yacht in the Mediterranean.

It would’ve sounded like a pleasant getaway, if you weren’t dead-tired, having just returned from being held hostage at gunpoint. You just wanted to go home. Logan, however, wanted you and Rome by his side—and who were you to say no to the top dog?

As the speedboat skidded to a stop by the yacht, cheers erupted from siblings, along with Gerri and Frank, Greg and Tom. Roman slid his sunglasses on as he clambered onto the larger boat’s deck. 

“Here they are! The heroes of Asia!” exclaimed Shiv, a flute of champagne in hand. She was the first to greet you, taking your hand and helping you out of the speedboat. After a kiss to your cheek, you spared her an exhausted smile.

“The lions of Turkey! Welcome back, guys!” chimed Greg. He leaned down to embrace his cousin, but Roman was quick to push his face away. Greg didn’t dare try to hug you after that, merely waving from afar.

Frank clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Back like Odysseus. Did you guys ride out on sheep?”

Snorting, Shiv added, “Yeah, I heard you took down an entire army alone, bro.”

“That would’ve been really traumatizing if you weren’t already so fucked up,” Gerri told Roman, who simply frowned.

“Yeah, who’d you suck off to get out?” Kendall inserted.

Tom smiled widely from behind Shiv. “You were staying at Four Seasons, right? How did you guys escape? Did you—did you build a glider out of a caesar salad?”

Roman squinted at nothing in particular from behind the dark lens of his sunglasses. “Uh, you know what? It was actually fucking scary and we thought they might kill us, but yeah…” The tips of his fingers wiggled in a poor rendition of jazz hands. “Hardee-har-har, caesar salads, har-har. So funny.”

An awkward silence ensued between the small group. You scritched at your neck with a wince, wanting nothing more than a shower and a nap.

“Sorry, dude. Seriously,” said Kendall.

Roman snorted. “Yeah, no. They just raped me a little, but I’m no hero. They stuck their cocks down Y/N’s throat, too. Tell them.”

He nudged you and you shook your head tiredly. “They didn’t do that.”

“See? It got so bad that she trauma-blocked the memories. Shame on all of you,” he said, propping his fists on his hips. 

Feeling mildly guilty, Shiv had the gall to rub her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Sorry, Rome.”

“It’s fine. I’m just tired, or whatever. It was funny, actually. Karl almost shat in a bucket and I have it on my phone, so we can fully humiliate him in our daily jerkfest later,” said Rome, tugging you to sit down with him on a large white seat.

“So how’d it all go, business-wise?” Connor asked, eyeing the both of you curiously. “Or was that forgotten?”

Before either of you could say anything, Laird stepped in, shaking his head with a wide smile. “Oh, we can’t say anything about that. Confidential stuff. But they—they did good.”

“Oh! Okay. Promising!” Connor exclaimed, shooting the both of you a grin. “Congrats, you guys.”

Unease crackled between the two of you. When you locked gazes with Roman, he merely lifted one of his shoulders in a shrug, lips pursed. The deal probably wouldn’t go through. It was all empty promises, powdered with a layer of cocaine. 

The two of you failed. And maybe that was okay.

Your hand found his, and his head knocked against yours. He drank the beer Shiv handed him, and you drank in the salty air of the sea.

After you’d finally managed to pry yourself away from Roman (or, more accurately, Roman away from you), you had yourself a nice, hot shower, and a long-overdue nap. When you drowsily blinked back into consciousness, it was early afternoon, the sun still high up in the cloudless sky. A part of you wondered how you hadn’t just slept through the entire day.

You cleaned yourself up and changed into loose loungewear, heading down a story of the yacht, where you caught sight of the Roy siblings hanging by the pool (minus Connor, who was discussing matters of the play).

Roman waved at you limply. “Hey, sleeping beauty. You were knocked out for a while. I poked you in all your ticklish spots and you didn’t even stir.”

With a sigh, you curled yourself up into the cushioned spot beside him, Shiv on your other side. On her right was Tom, who had his gaze trained on Greg on the other side of the pool—the Roy’s cousin was… getting his toes looked at by the medic? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t quite want to know.

“You know, if you snuck into my room while I’m asleep and prodded me like a corpse, at least don’t fess up to it. You weirdo,” you said once you finally tore your gaze away from Greg, wrinkling your nose at Rome fondly.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” Roman whistled, to which Shiv let out a loud groan of complaint. 

Sloshing water from the pool drew your attention to Kendall. “You good, Y/N? Sorry about—if I was, like, insensitive earlier—”

“It’s fine,” you quickly replied. “They were never going to shoot us, anyway. It was all just… theatrics.”

Theatrics. Puppets and strings.

Kendall smiled loosely. 

“So, uh, how was DC?” you asked the older man as he leaned against the rim of the pool. “They had it on the TV for a bit when we were waiting to give our pitch.”

He nodded, water dripping from his hair. “Yeah, it was—it was pretty fucking real.”

“You did good,” Roman chirped, adjusting the sunglasses on his nose. 

Scoffing, Kendall shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. And what? I did good for—for a crackhead? For a moron on crack?” His voice was lilting with incredulity.

“Nope. You did good, Ken,” he said.

Shiv nodded. “Yeah. You killed it.”

Kendall wasn’t used to genuine praise from his siblings. It was usually edged with an insult, laced with sarcasm or ire. 

“It was Tom that, uh… that didn’t really persuade everyone quite as well,” you said, sending an apologetic grimace to Shiv’s fiance.

“You’re being too nice. He shat his pants and puked all over the floor,” Roman huffed with an amused smile. 

Tom pulled a cross face. “I didn’t—!” He drew in a sharp breath. “You know, a lot of people are saying I was deadcatting. Yeah. So like—dead cat on the table. Everyone’s looking at this dead cat, and not… not talking about your dad.”

Shiv pursed her lips. “Right. Sure, yeah, you drew the fire. Yeah.”

Both you and Roman exchanged humored looks. 

“So, what’s going on with Rhea? She’s out, right?” Roman asked a beat later.

“Mhm. Melted. But she’s agreed not to say anything publicly until after the shareholder meeting,” said Shiv.

You briefly wondered why she backed away, but chalked it up to immense financial risk and potential ethical demise of her career. Good for her. 

“Instead of Rhea, whose big hairy foot is going to slip into the glass slipper?” Roman queried. “Washington Ken here?”

His older brother clambered out of the pool, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. “Me? Uh, no. Nope. I mean—Rome, you brought the golden goose home.”

The two of you frowned at the same time. Roman let out a loud sigh.

“Could be anyone,” you said. “We’re right back to square one.”

“Yeah. Could be. I mean, why is Greg here?” Kendall shot a look over his shoulder to glance at his cousin, peering between his own toes.

Roman snorted. “I always ask that question.” Then, he patted your thigh and leaned against you, enjoying the warmth of your skin against his. “I did think—you know, when I thought they were going to vacuum out my innards and fill me with concrete or something—like… if we come through this, is there a thing where we, like, talk to each other about stuff? Normally?”

In a strange alien-baby voice, Shiv mocked, “You wanna twalk to each other nwormally?”

Kendall snickered and tacked on, “You wanna twalk abwout the big shit?”

“Yeah, let’s twalk abwout the big shit!”

“We can talk about—our feewings!”

The siblings joking around for a rare moment reminded you of when you were all younger, with missing teeth and scraped knees. When Shiv’s hair would still be done up in a ponytail and yours would be twisted into pigtails. Simpler times—when things weren’t all that simple but you, in your blissful ignorance, had thought they were. 

Though you really didn’t want to laugh, you tried your best to smother down a chuckle, making Roman send you a betrayed glare. 

“Wow. Really? You, too?” He lightly shoved you away, and you and Shiv burst into a fit of giggles when you knocked into her. “How am I the most mature one here?”

“Sowwy, Wome,” you crooned in the same alien-baby voice. He kicked at your foot, then hooked his leg over yours.

The laughter dulled away when the whirring of helicopter blades descended over the yacht.

Logan was here.

“Emotional gunship incoming,” said Kendall.

“Yeah. Send out the distress signal,” Shiv added, the smile on her lips fading away as she looked up to see her father fly down. “We’re under attack.”

Logan was smiling. It wasn’t often that he smiled. 

He greeted you with a chaste kiss to the cheek, and Roman with a pat to the shoulder. It was warm in the light—brief, but warm nonetheless.

When he hoarded the two of you, along with bum-boys Laird and Karl into a separate room, he immediately asked, “Are you two alright? I heard it got a bit tasty.”

Tasty wasn’t exactly the right word for it, you thought. 

“Mmh, we’re fine. I’ve had worse experiences at hotels before,” Roman languidly commented, shrugging it off. 

Logan tilted his head. “Did they look after you? I spoke to the White House.”

“Someone came and told us there was a warship,” you said, pursing your lips. “Felt a bit extreme.”

“Knowing us gun-handy Americans, I bet it was already there,” Roman snorted, pouring himself a drink. “The ambassador took us for a shitty lunch—you know, sorry that you were held at gunpoint, have a cheese sandwich.”

Logan gestured for all of you to take a seat. “So… on the money. What’s the situation?”

“The kids did great,” said Laird, which made Roman audibly gag. “I think, Mr. Roy, you’ll be able to go private. Eduard and his father have titular responsibility for the sovereign wealth but the president’s daughter’s husband, Zeynal, is the key guy now. The two of ‘em killed it with him.”

Shrugging, Roman said, “Well, it was clear Eduard was getting sidelined. Zeynal figured out who we were, and I thought we were gonna be taken to get a fucking chainsaw massage but… nope. We had an hour, we pitched hard, and they said they wanted in.”

“Too modest,” Laird emphasized, brows raising. “This is the perfect opportunity.”

It wasn’t. It never was.

Karl went on to talk about the numbers, and Logan seemed quite pleased. 

“That’s great. That’s fucking fantastic!” announced Roman’s father.

Rome bit down on the inside of his cheek. He winced, and scratched at his head.

“I just… I do have to say one thing, dad…”

Panic flashed across Laird’s eyes. “Roman, we’re good.”

Ignoring him, Roman said, “I mean, we had a good talk with Zeynal and he said, with his mouth, that he wanted in and that’s great and all… but if this is really serious for us, I think I actually do have to say that it feels like it’s… probably horseshit.”

A beat of silence.

Laird’s eyes twitched.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Yeah, I just wanna make it clear that they said they wanted in, but didn’t sign anything yet. I mean, it’s not like we had any documents on hand but… words mean nothing. Uncle Logan, I don’t know if it’s… really smart to bank the entire future of the company on words of drug-addled men taking a piss out of you.”

Logan’s brows raised.

“It was flaky,” Roman added. “There was a lot of shit going on.”

The head man glanced at Karl, who remained deathly quiet, and then back to you. 

“Roman, they want to rebalance their portfolio for, uh, for a variety of geopolitical reasons,” began Laird. “It’s very European-focused, and he wants to tilt Western Hemisphere. It’s all very logical! I know that it’s a lot of money, and that can be very scary, but it makes sense.”

“All due respect, Laird, but I really don’t think they give a shit about adding us to their portfolio,” you said, voice hesitant. “They know we’re in debt. They know we’re in hot water with a large sector of the company. Why would they want in at all, much less hand over a ten billion dollar investment like it’s nothing?”

Roman sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry that we’re worrying our pretty little heads, Laird, but if they’re rebalancing their portfolio, it’d be fucking insane to do it over one ten-bil mega deal like it’s nothing.”

“Yeah, it’d be more sensible that they invest into several different markets around the globe,” you agreed. “None of this feels right.”

“It doesn’t matter what it feels like,” stressed Laird. “They said yes!”

With a frown, Roman retorted back, “Maybe, sure, they said yes! And there’s a ten or twenty percent chance that you’d make, like, a hundred million bucks with this deal. That’s so exciting! But if we miss, we could be fucked.”

Logan’s expression was hard to read. Anger? Disbelief? Disappointment? Acceptance? You couldn’t quite tell.

Swallowing hard, you said, “If we go through with this and none of it turns out to be real, we’d go straight over the edge. No votes, no political gain, no money.”

Finally, Logan murmured, “If it falls halfway through, it’d be terminal.”

A vein popped out on Laird’s head. “But if it works… just one step forward, and you’d be free.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Free from what? Just because we go private doesn’t mean we can do fuck all.”

Before Laird could argue back, Logan fixed his stare onto Roman. “Son?” he asked.

“Dad, I have to say, I’ve done a little bullshitting in my time—and Zenyal was a cokey, lying, 3 AM scotch and see-you-in-the-morning man. He won’t follow through.”

With a frustrated groan, Laird angrily got up from his seat.

Roman shook his head. “Dad, I wish it was real. I really fucking do. But it’s not—and we have to step away.”

When Logan turned his stare onto you, you nodded in agreement with Roman. 

“Karl?” your godfather asked.

The man buckled under the scrutiny. “You can’t lean on this,” he said. “Not now.”

His mind finally made, Logan got up onto his feet. “I’m sorry, Jaime. Keep exploring, keep talking. I cannot pile my chips on something that isn’t solid.”

“Excellent,” sighed Jaime. He looked at you, then at Roman. “You wanna talk solid? Maybe take a look at your kid there. Does he sound solid to you? And—thanks for the support, Karl. I hope you enjoy the king’s favors, because you know what you’re looking at if you don’t go private. Someone has to pay the price. Someone is going to go to jail, and I won’t be around to see it.”

With that, he dramatically took his leave. Roman tilted his head back and rolled his eyes.

“I wanna do the best thing. The most decent thing,” said Logan. His hand was on your shoulder for a moment, before he pulled away. “Tomorrow we’ll get into a discussion about our missteps and how we can indicate how sorry we are to the rest of the world. Get some rest, the both of you.”

As you clambered into bed, Roman unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it somewhere behind him. He’d followed you into the cabin, claiming that there were no available cabins left—and you knew he was lying, because you’d passed by several empty rooms on the way to yours, but you didn’t bother to protest.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“You know, I overheard Tom and Shiv speaking to each other,” you said as you fluffed up a pillow to lay on. 

“Ooh. Is Tom the one getting shitcanned? No surprise there,” Roman replied, crawling next to you and laid down on his stomach, head resting on his crossed arms. 

“No. I mean, I don’t actually know who it’ll be, but—” You paused to smile, near-childish laughter falling from your lips. “I heard Tom saying he was excited for a threesome.”

“Ew! What? Ew! Tell me more,” Roman exclaimed, swatting at your arms and you shoved him back, laughing at his tone. “Oh, that’s so gross. Never pegged Tom as the type.”

“I don’t think it was Tom’s idea.”

“Ew!”

The two of you giggled about it some more, before you lolled your head over to face him. 

“Do you think it could be me?” you quietly asked. “Would Logan throw me to the sharks?”

Roman hummed. “Sometimes it feels like he likes you better than any of his own fucking kids. You’re not getting canned. It won’t make sense.”

“Hm.”

He threw an arm over your stomach. “But… it won’t be me, right?”

“I don’t know, Rome,” you told him honestly. “After today… I just don’t know. But I’ve got your back.”

The two of you basked in the comfort of each other’s quiet for a brief moment. You scooched closer to him and shut your eyes.

“You’re a really good friend, Rome.”

Something akin to an amused snort fell from his lips. “Pfft. Friend. I don’t think friends jerk off to the sound of each other’s voices. You’ve had your hand on my dick. Is that what friends do these days?”

“Friends with benefits, then.”

He brushed his lips along your shoulder, light as a feather, barely there. There was a strange ache in his chest. An ache that you also felt. The two of you ached together, unknowingly. 

“Hm. I like the sound of that. It’s like you’re my personal whore.”

“It’s a two-way street.”

“Yeah. You fuck me, I fuck you. You kill me, I kill you. Like they do in Germany.”

There it was again. What was with Roman and Germany?

“Sure. Like they do in Germany.”

It was hard to stomach breakfast with your restless nerves shooting adrenaline through your veins. You anxiously plowed through two apples and started on your third just when Logan stepped onto the lower level. Everybody’s attention piqued, their heads turning, postures stiffening up against the chairs around the dining table. 

When Gerri tentatively asked him who he had in mind as the sacrificial lamb, Logan waved her away.

“Enough. We stick together, alright? Most things don’t exist. The Ford motor company hardly exists—it’s just a time-saving expression for a collection of financial interests. But this exists, because…”

Roman leaned in close to mockingly whisper, “Family.”

“Family,” Logan finished. “We are a family. And so that’s why I think… I think the obvious choice is me.”

A ripple of shock coursed through the small group. Your eyes narrowed, unsure of what game Logan was playing at now.

“No,” Shiv vehemently said. “What? Dad, you—you can’t.”

Logan tilted his head. It wasn’t often he was told that he couldn’t. “Well, I may not be responsible, but the buck has to stop somewhere.”

The rest of the group erupted in protests. Tom, Kendall, Frank. They were all bleating sheep. Roman rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t work,” Kendall elaborated. “When people find out Rhea isn’t coming in, we’d need stability. From you.”

Logan raised a single finger. “I need one meaningful skull to wave.” Wave didn’t seem quite the appropriate term. Chop off, maybe. Sever was a good one. “If the shareholders’ meeting was tomorrow, we lose. I need to persuade a number of big figures. So… would anyone like to say anything?”

Crackling silence. Across the table, Greg popped a fat green grape into his mouth.

“I’ll take care of whoever it is,” said Logan. “No one will be forgotten.”

Clearing his throat, Kendall ventured out, “Well, I mean, if we’re doing this, I don’t wanna spread shit around. We’re all loyal servants here. But, uh, I say this without malice aforethought, presumably, uhm, general counsel is the center of the web. Sorry, Gerri. I like you, I do.”

Logan reached out to put his hand over the blonde woman’s. “There is no one more loyal than Gerri,” he said, effectively dismissing the idea.

But you saw right through him. It wasn’t about Gerri’s loyalty. She wasn’t a big enough cut. 

“What about Frank?” Roman offered. Everyone was well aware of his disdain for the older man. “How come Frank is even here today?”

Full of ire, Logan’s old friend nodded his head. “Thanks, Roman. I see it. I could take it. I mean, I make sense.”

“Yeah. And after what he did to you? The whole boardroom coup?” Roman lifted a shoulder, convinced that Frank was the most obvious choice.

“Water under the bridge.” Logan brushed away once more. Still not big enough.

After a long while of stammering, Frank finally coughed out, “I would say objectively, considering my, uh, my indiscretion against the family makes me a less compelling sacrifice. Unlike—uhm, for instance, a loyal servant like Karl.”

Instead of defending himself, Karl decided to turn the blade right back around to Gerri. “My thing is, I guess, if Rhea is no more, then sadly, we’re back to having Gerri as named successor. So that fattens her up for the kill, in my opinion.”

“Everyone knows I was just a name on a piece of paper,” defended the woman, laughing incredulously.

“Oh, don’t put yourself down. I think you were always more than that,” scoffed Karl. “And, you know, the old copy book is a bit blotty. Expense accounts… daughter’s first class on the company coin…”

“Karl sounds good!” Tom chimed in. “Sausage thief,” he bitterly muttered, in reference to the entire Boar on the Floor debacle in Hungary.

“Gerri is theoretically kind of perfect,” said Connor.

“No,” Roman was quick to protest. “Nope. That’s bullshit. I disagree.”

Propping his joined hands on the table, Logan asked, “Why?”

“Why? Because that’s my opinion,” Roman said in a defensive manner.

“Yeah… but your reasoning?”

With a hasty glance to you, Roman hastily spun out, “Seriously, Gerri? To pay for cruises? We, what, we take out our senior woman? Haven’t we, you know—kidding, here, but—killed enough women already?”

“It’d look orchestrated. Gerri is just too obvious,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Sexual misconduct cases three decades ago, and we’d be placing the blame on general counsel and simply wiping our hands clean? Not to mention it’d just make Waystar look more… anti-women if we went down that route.”

Roman nodded. “Listen, I think the obvious choice here is, and I hate to say it because he’s such a swell guy, but—” he made a whistling noise and pointed to the man sitting across from him, “Tom.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you're the head of cruises, man.”

Kendall pursed his lips. “I gotta agree with Rome here. Tom, I fucking love you dude, but you shat the bed over Mo Lester.”

“But I was sent in there as the fucking beating man—I took the fucking beating!” 

Shiv shook the back of her head, making no effort to defend her husband.

“You got suckered in by Eavis,” said Kendall.

“I answered the questions!”

“You don’t answer the questions. Okay? That’s, like, rule one.” Kendall patted his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I’m not beating up on you here, I’m just saying that he got a win off you and you’re kinda the face of this now.”

Lifting her head up high, Shiv said, “Tom looks logical. Cruises, document destruction. It’d be laid out for us.”

Tom’s gaze swiveled to his wife, expression utterly torn. “What?” he croaked out.

“I’m not saying you should be,” the red-head defended. “But I’m just saying you’re like family, but you’re not… actually family, which is also good. Tom, it’s the elephant in the room. We can say that!”

“No, we can’t! There’s absolutely no need to speak of the elephant in the room! There’s fifteen other fucking elephants in this room!” With an angry scoff, Tom threw both his hands up. “If you want someone who’s family but not family, what about Y/N?”

Immediately, Roman let out a high-pitched, “No! Why would it—why the fuck should it be her?”

Tom’s face contorted under the scrutiny. “I don’t know. General manager of Waystar, and goddaughter to Logan sounds like a good fucking steak to throw to the lions.” At your confused expression, Tom quickly backed down. “I’m not actually saying Y/N. I’m just saying things! It just—it shouldn’t be me. What about you, huh, Shiv?”

“Okay, fine. How do I work?” she hissed out. 

“I don’t know!” Tom exclaimed, his voice raising a few notches in volume.

Gerri pursed her lips to the side and mentioned, “I mean, if we’re saying Shiv, we could highlight witness tampering and, uh, that she was going to take over but—I don’t know, it probably wouldn’t work.”

Shiv reared back as if she’d been stung. “Uh, yeah. Too fucking right it wouldn’t work. I don’t make sense, I’ve never been inside.”

“What about both of them? Shiv and Tom? Beauty and the beast,” Roman said.

“Does Tom work?” Logan asked. “Alone?”

A long beat of silence. 

In all honesty, you thought he’d work. The missing documents were more than enough to go off of. 

But Kendall shook his head, and it flew right out the window. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s a big enough skull. No offense.”

“Then how about Tom with some fucking… Greg sprinkles?” Roman asked, gesturing to his cousin, who’d managed to polish off all the grapes on the tray. One of the workers floated by to take the tray away, no doubt to fill it back up again.

“Greg sprinkles?” parroted Greg.

Wincing, you apologetically added, “I mean, you did destroy those documents for Tom, no? It’s—it's an aided crime. It works.”

Connor laughed. “Elmo and Big Bird. I could start to see that, yeah. You could throw in a Karl or a Frank, and you’re golden.”

“What—what precisely are Greg sprinkles?” asked the Roy cousin.

“Greg sprinkles are basically a fantastic garnish for practically anyone seated at this table,” Roman replied with a faux warm smile. “Like a Tom sundae with a little Greg cherry on top.” He popped his lips and Greg frowned.

“No, I object. I do. I mean—I’m more than a sprinkle! What about you, huh? What about Roman?”

“Roman?” you asked, cocking a brow. “How would he be a good candidate?”

“Well, he’s widely known as a terrible person!”

Roman snorted. “Thanks, Toe Jam.”

“There’s another elephant in the room,” Connor interrupted. “What about I just throw myself over the side, huh?”

Shiv laughed quietly, hiding her smile behind her palm.

“Yeah, just—in return for a payout. I’m cash strapped, so just lock me into that sweet, sweet golden parachute and toss me in the volcano!” said the oldest Roy sibling. On he blathered, about how he should be the one to take the fall.

Logan glanced around. “That’s… that’s kind of you, Con. Thank you. We’ll bear it in mind.” He smiled, but it wasn’t quite authentic. It wasn’t real. Connor slumped back, going largely ignored once again.

With that, Logan stood up. “We have half an idea but… yeah. Let’s do this later.”

Off he went, through the glass doors, gone to God knows where.

You and Roman exchanged a look. His was one of relief and gratitude, yours was one of exasperation. Then, Roman leaned forward to snatch the tray of grapes away from Greg, and offered a branch of the plump green fruits to you. 

Dinner left a stale taste in your mouth. Maybe it was because you weren’t particularly fond of the served courses. Maybe it was because of the rocking motions of the boat upsetting your stomach. Or maybe—maybe it was because Logan had finally chosen his sacrificial lamb.

Kendall stood beside his father with pursed lips. Logan nodded to the sitting group. “I’ve decided,” he simply said.

Incredulity danced across Roman’s expression, brows raised. “Ken?” he asked. “Come on, really? Dad, you—no. There’s… what about the… one of the other shitfuckers?”

Your eyes darted from your godfather, to Kendall, who took a seat across from you. He met your eyes, if only for a brief moment. A part of you felt bad for him—after all, to you he was always going to be the eight-year-old boy draped in a suit far too large for him, practicing a speech in front of the mirror for a nameless award he was going to accept one day. He’d make you and Roman sit down and listen to him, four and five years of age, expectantly turning to the two of you after he was done and asking if it sounded okay. Desperate for approval, even if the assurance came from two young kids with missing teeth and bored eyes.

He was practically your brother. You averted your gaze with mild shame burning within your chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” said Kendall. He looked around the table. “You’re all off the hook.”

Roman leaned forward and asked, uncharacteristically genuine, “You okay?”

Wordless, Kendall nodded. He was trying his best to stave away the frown tugging at the corners of his lips. There were tears warbling over his irises. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good.” 

But he wasn’t. Roman knew, and you knew, too.

Karl cleared his throat. “Is it just… I don’t wanna be rude here—is it just him?”

Gerri tilted her head. “First—uh, second-born son—with his responsibilities, it wouldn’t be a hard sell.”

“Roman,” said Logan. “You’re taking over as full chief operating officer.”

An indignant noise fell from his throat. “Yeah? What with Captain Cautious back in the other room?” 

“No, no. Frank’s going to be responsible for the cruises clean up. You’re on your own. Solo.” Logan stared at his youngest son. “Can you handle it?”

Beneath the table, Roman’s jostling knee bumped into yours. “Yeah,” he unenthusiastically said. “That’s really exciting.”

Kendall spared his little brother a lopsided smile. “No, Rome. It’s great. For real.” Then, he raised a fork. “Eat up, guys. This one’s on me.”

Day three on the boat. You woke up to Roman’s arms wrapped around your midriff, his face buried in the fabric over your chest. He sleepily mumbled and whined when you dragged yourself (and, effectively, him as well, seeing as he refused to let go of you) out of bed. The two of you brushed your teeth together before you promptly kicked him out of your room so you could take a quick shower in peace.

By the time the both of you got down to have breakfast, Greg was the one to tell you that Kendall had left earlier in the morning. 

“Right to his slaughter,” you mumbled to Rome, who’s face twisted with guilt.

An hour later, you were watching Kendall on the television. Shiv and Logan were on the couches, and Roman had both his hands resting on your shoulders, kneading your muscles as if you were a stress ball.

“I have been asked to explain my role in the management of illegality at the firm and associated cover ups. And it has been suggested that I would be a suitable figure to absorb the anger and concern,” said screen Kendall. To your surprise, his words were followed by, “But…”

You and Roman exchanged glances. He stopped working at your shoulders and crossed his arms. 

“The truth is that my father is a malignant presence. He is a liar, a bully, and was fully aware of the events that had transpired on the cruise ships for many years, and made efforts to hide and cover up. He had a twisted sense of loyalty to bad actors like Lester McClintock, and a disregard for the safety of migrant workers, union and non-union workers, along with vulnerable performers and guests.”

“Fuck me,” Roman whispered. Logan silently lifted a finger to his lips to shush him.

The Kendall on screen was vastly different to the puppet Kendall you’d come to know for the past few months. He’d finally broken free of his strings.

“My father keeps a watchful eye over his entire empire, and the notion that he would have allowed millions of dollars of settlements and compensation to be paid without his explicit approval is utterly fanciful. I have with me today copies of records that show his personal sign-off. How much those of us who executed his wishes bear responsibility is for another day.” 

Shiv briefly twisted around to shoot you an utterly dumbfounded look, as if to ask you if you’d known he was going to do this. You sent her an equally befuddled expression.

“But I think…” said Kendall, “This is the day his reign ends.”

With that, Kendall got up and walked off to the side, out of the camera’s view. You couldn’t see it, for Logan was facing the screen, but there was a slight smile on your godfather’s face.