Roman was born an influencer. A famous one at that. A jack of all trades, he had your stereotypical vlogger YouTube channel, basic Instagram, and a flare for the dramatics.
Virgil was, quite literally, the opposite. He had Tumblrs, TikToks, Instagrams - anything he could share memes on. And he was famous for it.
He was also famous for making fun of Roman Prince.
They would never get along.
It all started with a rainy Friday night.
Virgil had recently been in Romans part of town - Gainesville Florida. Although they had never spoken online (at least where their fans could witness), they’d been casually dating for a few months.
So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when the darkly-dressed emo was splayed haphazardly across Romans clearly expensive couch.
Roman, the self-obsessed dork that he is, decided to post a well-angled photo of himself onto his Instagram. Well- it would have been well-angled if a figure hadn’t been in the frame.
So, of course, Princey’s oh-so-vigilant followers had quickly pointed out a blurry person on the sofa.
“Okay, Virge, I’ve made a mistake,” Roman had stated, swiveling around in his desk chair to stare at the man. Virgil scoffed, not looking up from his phone.
“You do that a lot,” he quipped. Roman dramatically threw a hand over his chest, leaning back in his chair.
“I am wounded!”
“What’d you do this time,” Virgil deadpanned, brushing off Roman.
“You might want to check my Instagram.”
Virgil heaved a sigh, sitting up and tapping away on his phone. If you could see his face, you’d be able to tell the exact moment he saw the post.
“Jesus Christ, Roman, you’re a dunce.”
“Excuse you!”
“How do you- how did you manage to do that? It really shouldn’t be that har-”
“That's what he-”
“No!” Virgil choked back a laugh. “That's not what he said! Roman!”
The princely-dressed boy looked down.
“We’re screwed!”
“How are they even gonna know it’s you- you’re so blurry on the couch I could probably just say it’s my dad and move on with it.”
“They’ve seen your dad.”
“Alright then you give me an idea!”
“Okay,” Virgil leaned on the arm of the couch. “As long as no one not-”
A moment passed.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“Roman, do you mind.. reading... the comments?” he drew out each word, gaze now directed pointedly at Roman.
“Oh God.”
Romans eyes barely flicked across the screen, which horrifically read:
OceanThrush: Alright Princey, whos on the couch??
AustinHart09: I didn’t know he had a boyfriend!!
Which, granted, Roman had expected. But then they started speculating, throwing random influencer's names around. Nothing really backed their claims up, thank God.
Then one user had typed a terribly accurate idea, evidence and all.
“oh boy roman, look at this! virgil black has that exact hoodie! and.. you’re not gonna believe this (actually you will <3) virgey, as you have so fondly dubbed him, was just in gainesville!”
What a smartellic.
“You really screwed up, dude,” Virgils laugh rumbled in his chest. “Now what?”
Roman shrugged helplessly, head dropping into his hands.
“My reputation is ruined,” he wailed, muffled between his shirt sleeves.”
“Mine too!”
“You have no reputation!”
Virgil made a noise mixed betweent a grunt and a gasp.
“I do too!”
“Oh my God-“ Roman sharply inhaled. “okay- we have to fix this.”
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uhhh yeah
i got the prompt from a tumblr thingy and i hope i did it justiceeee
i’ll continue it if anyone wants me to?? idk at this point i’m real tired lol
feel free to ask to be added to the taglist since i’ll be updating it now uwu
i’ll tag the people that have already asked about the next chapter^^
It’s not your fault you meet the whole crew for the first time sitting crossed legged on a box of ammo, cookie in one hand a book in the other one. Santiago didn’t tell you he’d be back with company - he especially didn’t tell you that he’d be back with the team you’re supposed to support on a mission in a week. The surprise of the situation is prominent on your face as you stare up from your book, hand raised with a half eaten cookie midway to your mouth and you can’t keep the annoyance out of your eyes as they flick back to Santiago. There’s a mutual look passing around the group as each of them steps through the door, your eyes glued to them, their eyes starring back at you. Some of their faces slip and you get to spot a wild range of emotions. There’s surprise followed by confusion. And then doubt. Their masks slip back into place and you find yourself in front of a wall of poker faces, hard set jaws and harder eyes. Military boys.
“Who’s her?” The first person to speak up is a broad guy with shoulders that look they could take down any door. His question is directed at Santiago, voice calm but his eyes betray him as they move back to you and in an instant back to Santiago, the unspoken indication poking something hot inside of you that you don’t like. At all. You try to stand up as graceful as one can do with crumbs all over their shirt and level him, eyes focused and though he’s almost a foot taller than you he recognizes your posture, his body tensing up immediately.
“It’s Y/N.” You answer before Santiago gets a chance to, who just leans back against the table and seems to enjoy this showdown way too much. There’s realization flickering in the tough guy’s eyes, very short but his jaw sets a little tighter and that’s almost satisfaction enough for you. “But you couldn’t ask me that yourself, could you?”
A second guy is pushing forward now, a bit younger but the similarity between the buff guy and him clear as day. “You’re quite feisty for a medic.” Though he looks younger his voice is way deeper and you can tell that the snapback he wears gives him a deceptive easiness.
You’re not able to keep a snort to yourself “I’m not a medic. I’m the one to get you inside.”
“You are the driver?” There’s obvious disbelief in his voice as his eyes glance over you, taking too long for your liking. His lips twitch into a smile once he reaches your eyes again that has the tips of your ear turn red - not because you’re embarrassed but because you start to get angry.
“I am a,“ you hesitate for a moment Soldier? Mercenary? Hitman? Hitwoman? “a freelancer.” You truly wished that you’ve executed that smoother but still, the guy’s expression falls as he turns the broader man beside him before all eyes turn to Santiago.
“Pope, what the fuck?”
There’s a moment of silence as the group seems to need a minute to progress that piece of information and you’re eyes flicker to Santiago - Pope - who shrugs. “It’s been approved a few weeks ago, officially and all.”
You clear your throat, the awkwardness of the whole situation not sitting well with you. “Clearly you’ve got some things to figure out.” You mumble, grabbing your book and sending a last glare in Santiago’s direction as you leave the room. You’ve barely set foot in the corridor as you hear multiple voices starting to argue.
“I don’t like it.” Hat guy - Ben, you have to remind yourself - grunts as he lifts the last box onto the back of the van, eyes gazing over to you. The truck barely fits through the sandstone arch leading into the small courtyard and you can’t help but let your ears peak up, though the complaint is nothing new. You keep your head low, shifting through your backpack and looking if everything’s where it’s supposed to be. After all, you’ve learned that one can never have enough knifes and bandages.
“She’s going to be fine.” Santiago closes the trunk and shoots you a look. He knows you’re hearing every word the two of them share and that your interest in checking your backpack for the last time is nothing but cover by now.
“You’re not the one who has to deal with her when bullets start flying and she’s on the ground freaking out.” Ben’s voice picks up volume and you let out a long breath, counting to ten with your eyes closed. It feels like you’re recycling the same argument for the whole week, the topic of you accompanying them on the mission still not sitting well with the team, especially Ben.
“Look.” Santiago licks his lips, hands calmingly raised at the man in front of him. ”I’ve seen her before, you two will work out great as a team. I have to be up on front with Will and we can’t send in Fish from atop because he needs to --”
“Work on the van, I know. I know.” Ben presses the words through his teeth, eyes now snapping to you and his face turns sour. “I just don’t like it, man.”
“You don’t have to like it.” You finally snap, setting down another set of bandages as you turn to him. “You just do your part and I’m gonna do mine and we’ll be fine.”
“You might be in over your head here, sweetheart.” There’s a certain sneer to his last word that has the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. “This is not some shooting range in buttfuck nowhere. We’re about to embark on a mission, with real people who will most likely try to kill us.”
“You think I don’t know that? Do you think this’ my first job?” The words start to slip out before you can think them about them. “You think I can’t handle myself because I’m female?”
Ben rolls his eyes, “Of course it’s not because you’re a girl -”
“A woman.” You correct him.
“ - it’s because I could crush you with my left foot if I wanted to.”
Your eyes turn to hard. “Oh really? If you’re so sure about that why don’t you come over here and we- ”
“Jesus Christ, enough!” Pope intervenes, throwing himself in the middle. “Take a walk.” He directs Benny. Hat guy - you decide he doesn’t deserve a name - doesn’t say a word but gives you a long look, eyes screaming with suppressed anger as he shuffles through the door and past his brother, so you’ve learned, who watches you with crossed arms. They share the same emotion in that moment, disapproval seeping out of them.
“I swear I’m not getting paid enough for this.” You hiss at Pope.
You’re almost at ease. A soft breeze caresses your cheeks every now and again and the sun warms your back, beaming down not as harshly as usual. It’s nice. The city stretches before you, miles and miles of brown and beige houses forming an organic system of it’s own, speckled with drops of colors here and there. If you had the time it’d take your breath away. Yes, you’re almost at ease. If it weren’t for the body lying on the rooftop next to you and the fact that you’re about to cross over to another roof and enter your target location secured by deadly man with cruel intentions.
Ben sends you a quick look, eyes teasing you from underneath the brim of his hat and for a second you wish you’d thought of a hat of your own to shield your eyes against he burning sun. “You ready to go, sweetheart?”
You turn your eyes forward and decide to mumble your answer into the intercom, “We’re set.”
There’s white noise coming back for a second, two seconds, then - “Alright. Let’s get this done.”
You and Benny move almost at the same time, you in front of him, gun pressed tightly to your side as you switch from one rooftop to the next, moving houses with just a step of your foot. He’s quiet, you have to give him that. And though you know he’s not going to shoot you in the back, quite literally, having a 6′3 man move behind you is something you have to get accustomed to. Especially one that doubted you just a day ago.
You hop down to the balcony, feet landing securely on the tiled floor. You’re already taking your first steps towards the door as Benny lands behind you. Everything around you slows down and becomes clearer, crisper, sharper. There’s not sound as you slide open the glass door and move inside.
The guest bedroom turns out to be empty, just as expected. You hear Benny’s voice coming through your earpiece, “First room clear.” You shoot him a look, motioning for the door. “Heading inside now.” His presence still makes the hair at the back of your neck stand up and you try to ignore the feeling as best as possible. Combing the forth floor together is uneventful. You have to split at the end of the stairs, him moving down the left hallway while you tackle the right one, knowing that you’ll meet at the end of them. Hopefully still alive.
Your hearts beats a steady rhythm, almost like it’s whispering with every pump “Trust me, I can do this. Trust me. Trust me.” And you do. You encounter the first guard in another bedroom. The second one happens to be in the bathroom across from you. They barely have time to suck in the air for a yell that dies in their throat before you take them out. There’s a time and a place for pretty little tricks and this is neither. You’re fast. Moving forward is your priority now. You don’t make a sound as you turn the last corner, expecting to see Ben with his stupid hat - instead you stare at an unfamiliar back. You react before you know it, legs moving and picking up speed, crossing the distance in seconds, shooting and catching the body as the guard’s knees give in. Your arms circle around him, no noise your remind yourself. You look up and catch Ben’s eyes over the guy’s shoulder.
He’s stopped in motion, gun half raised at no point specific, starring at you with clear, blue eyes. There’s no time to stare back, you’re already on the move again, up on your feet and pushing past him. “You okay?”
It takes a second for him to answer and you have to turn around to shoot him a questionable look, just in case he isn’t okay. “No yeah, I’m good.” He clears his throat, “Third floor secure.”
It’s months later that you meet any of them again. Dirt crumbles under your boots as you make your down rows and rows of tents, following a guy in brown uni colored clothes through the maze. You’re eyes scan your surroundings, moving over relaxed soldiers, guy’s suiting up or working out and there’s a certain calmness to it all. You adjust your hat. It’s not too different from the last camp you’ve been to, they all look the same if you’re honest --
“Y/N?” The sudden hollering has you whipping around. A grinning Santiago approaches you and you instantly break into a smile of your own, arms embracing you in a quick tight hug. “I didn’t know you’re stopping by.”
“Yeah, well”, you smile at him, hands resting on his shoulders. “You never text, you never call either.”
Santiago’s accompanied by three man, all of them wearing the same brown colored shirt and yellowish camouflage pants, instantly separating you from them with your dark jeans and white shirt. Courtesies are exchanged, you introduce yourself, quickly explain why you’ve been called in and in an instant you’re met with recognition from the unfamiliar faces.
“Oh.” One of the guy breathes out.” You’re that y/n.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You laugh.
Santiago eyes you amusedly but holds back an answer. The other guys get uncomfortable all of the sudden, shuffling around and exchanging looks, neither of them wanting to be the one to break first.
“Well?” You probe, gesturing at no one on particular before one sighs and rubs his neck.
“It’s just ... Miller won’t shut up about that one time you’ve been teamed with him.”
“He what now?” You deadpan. Santiago laughs silently to himself, shoulders heaving before sending you a confirming nod.
“It’s been his favorite story for months.”
“He’s told it so many times I feel like I’ve been there.”
“Fuck, I had a dream about it the other night, like I was there --”
The guy’s share an agreeing look. You feel like your brain might be fried from the sun. Your mouth still opens and closes without producing anything else than hot air as the flaps of a tent open and you see the man himself walk out. There’s a set of emotions rushing over his face but joy wins.
“Sweetheart!” The nickname that would’ve been insulting to you just a few months ago now rolls over his lips in an almost lovely way. Ben sends you a beaming smile, arms stretched out in a friendly greeting as he strolls towards your small group. “You’ve got a hat! Looks good!”
