#didn’t need waystar after all

[loveandthings11]

Ken’s job… is just Beach 💙

[cvrnelians]

smile like you mean it - chapter five

You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?

"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."

warnings: drug use, alcoholism, miscarriage, Roman and the rest of the Roy family being awful.

chapters 1-3 // chapter four

music

chapter five

10 ways to get someone to like you: A foolproof guide

If you want to be liked, be likable.

Roman scowled and slammed his laptop shut, carelessly tossing it to the end of the bed. 

“What a stupid fucking article.”

He got up and stretched, his limbs still rigid from a heavy sleep. If there was anything positive to come out of the complete and utter shitshow that was the day before, a good night’s sleep took the cake. Rest was something Roman didn’t get a whole lot of lately, but when he did sleep, he slept hard. 

Prior to becoming COO of Waystar Royco, he had always been a heavy sleeper. It wasn’t unusual for him to get eight hours of shuteye even after napping all day. He had a copious amount of (not-so-fond) childhood memories in which Connor, Kendall, and Shiv jumped on his bed in order to wake him up. They often had to hit him with pillows and shake him to the point of nausea to get him to finally open his eyes.

Well, they didn’t really have to. 

There were a small handful of differences between now and then. 

Although he would never admit it, his job was a big source of stress for him. The most pathetic thing about it? Most days he didn’t accomplish even twenty five percent of what his colleagues did. And what he was able to do completely exhausted him. It was a lot to live up to, being the inheritor—and now a figurehead—of a monster he hadn’t created; a monster he wasn’t even sure he wanted to keep feeding. 

Another major difference between now and then was that Kendall no longer needed to shake him from a dead sleep in order to make him feel nauseous. All it really took was watching him walk into your room in the middle of the night, casual as could be, to put Roman into a not-so-ideal headspace.

“Acting like he was reuniting with an old friend or some shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He got into the shower, his mind going a million miles a minute as he continued talking to himself. “I’m Kendall,” he mocked. “I’m better than everyone now, didn’t you know? I went to rehab. I drink green juice. I’ve read The Secret. I don’t have stress anymore because I never see my own children. Look how stable I am now.” 

This was the one downside of being so well-rested. His brain actually lived up to its potential. His mind simply refused to slow down. No matter how hard he willed himself not to think of you, he only thought about you that much more. Not that this was all that different from any other day. Roman thought about you all the time, sleep deprived or not.

He liked you. Okay? Even with your cheap clothes and your shitty attitude and your refusal to sit next to him in the car, he had some…feelings when it came to you.

Ew.

He hated it when you were upset with him, and he hated it even more when you weren’t around.

From the first time he saw you, he liked you. A lot, actually.

Roman liked you a lot.

He had gone to your room the night before to say he was sorry discuss how hypersensitive you were being in response to the hilarious things he said, but he stopped short in the doorway. 

As it turned out, you were busy. So as any gentleman would, Roman said fuck that noise and booked it back to his room. That was the second time you made him run that day, you little jerk.

He wondered if he should take bearing witness to that stomach-turning embrace between you and Kendall as a sign. Perhaps he should never apologize to anyone, for any reason, ever again. Not even to those who deserved an apology. Not even to you. If that was what he got for trying to be the bigger person, having to watch his stormcloud of an older brother get what he wanted without even having to try, well…what was the point? 

“Likable. Likable? What does that even mean?” he asked himself. 

Why would the author of that article automatically assume the people reading it were the unlikable ones? What kind of introduction was that? Why should he have to shoulder the responsibility of someone not liking him? Why should he have to do all this work to win you over? Why was he even worried about it? You should be the one trying to get into his good graces. You should be the one typing stupid questions into Google at seven o’ clock in the morning, not him. It didn’t matter that he called you a run-of-the-mill, ladder climbing, H&M wearing plebeian (or a coffee gopher). It didn’t matter that he had driven you to the brink of a full blown mental breakdown under his tenure. It didn’t matter that knowing he was the one that made you cry felt like a punch to the gut.

...which didn't even turn him on, by the way.

None of it mattered. He shouldn’t have to apologize for a thing. You were obviously sleeping with Kendall. Kendall! Even if you weren’t working for him, sleeping with Kendall would still put you in the wrong in any context. You were trying so desperately to make Roman believe he was the problem, just as everyone else did. You little gaslighter. 

You weren’t seriously going to leave over a couple of little insults, right?

Right?

He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he somehow managed to get a concerning amount of shampoo in his eyes. 

“Ow, FUCK!” 

Following five stressful minutes of washing his eyes out (or trying to, anyway), he slumped over and held his hands over his face, allowing the water to run directly over his head. He could still picture you crying on the plane, which he had been doing on a loop for the past several hours. He could concede that he came off a little unpleasant at times, but it was more of a defense mechanism than anything. Deep down, Roman knew he didn’t take anyone seriously simply because no one else took him seriously. But you had wanted to be taken seriously, and did everything to earn that. 

You were having some relatively fun banter prior to the moment he turned on you like a feral dog. When he was finished with his cutting little monologue, you looked like you had been slapped. Seeing you so upset and proceeding to mock you for it…

Ugh.

This was not uncharacteristic of Roman, but it wasn't necessarily his proudest moment, either. It made him sick to his stomach, as a matter of fact. 

A lot of things about the past few days made him sick to his stomach.

He could remember having a similar feeling from when he was growing up. Everything would be fine and dandy until he would say or do one little thing to set Logan off, and then bam: 

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 

“Oh, you’re crying now? You’re crying? Why don’t you just go tell Kendall about it? I’m sure he’d love nothing more.” 

Roman cringed at his own words.

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 

And then he was alone.

If you want to be liked, be likable.

He would never say it to you directly, but if he could, he would.

"I’m sorry I made you so sad."

☽ 

“You have no idea how things will turn out, and it’s very juvenile. It’s fucking dumb. You’re being dumb!”

You cringed as Kendall’s words bounced around in your head.

Last night had been very interesting, to say the least.

For several hours now, you lay flat on your back, slipping in and out of a restless sleep. When you did become lucid, you simply stared up at the impossibly tall vaulted ceiling. It was painted and preserved beautifully, gold borders encasing rich shades of red and blue. You reached your arm up, pretending to trace and retrace the intricate patterns with your fingers. Exhausted yet unable to sleep, you needed something mindless and soothing to wind yourself down. 

Sadly, your efforts were to no avail. Your mind was still racing, hyper focused on what transpired the night before. It was jarring to think that just a simple “so, how have you been?” from Kendall would open a Pandora's box you had no clue even existed. You didn’t have much time to concentrate on it, though. At that moment, two things happened at once.

You felt a stab of panic as you received a notification that your flight was now boarding. You couldn’t believe it. You had missed your flight. You had dissociated to the point of having missed your flight. And before you could even sit up, you were startled by a loud banging noise against your door. It sounded like someone was ramming something into it full force. You weren't even sure who you were hoping not to see at this point.

Not since Kendall went absolutely ballistic on you.

“Knock, knock!” a familiar voice yelled. He didn’t bother actually knocking, nor did he wait for you to respond. He probably thought the unpleasant crash was sufficient enough.

You were almost relieved.

Enter one Roman Roy.

But he wasn’t alone. In front of him was the culprit, the battering ram that nearly gave you a heart attack, in the form of a large metal breakfast cart. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, he was dressed in athletic wear. He looked out of place in such a grandiose room, like you were playing a beginner’s version of “I Spy.” 

I spy with my little eye something reprehensible.

“Here comes the breakfast fairy,” he said in an awkward, singsong voice. He slowly rolled  the unsteady cart towards you. “Here to um…y’know. Bring you breakfast. Breakfast just for you.”

A wheel broke off as he made his way over, making coffee spill onto the tray. He cursed as he shakily lifted the tray up off the cart and reached over to hand it to you. You gawked at him. “Okay, that’s what I get for saying that. That was fucking stupid. I didn’t say that. You don’t remember me saying that.” 

“You brought me breakfast?”

“It would appear so,” he said cheerfully. “Like a good boy.”

“I missed my flight,” you blurted out awkwardly. 

He paused for a second, taking a deep breath before reverting back to his typically rude delivery. “Yeah, not my problem. Can you please just take the tray? It’s really heavy.”  

“I missed my flight,” you repeated. 

He ignored you and slowly set the tray on your lap. He lifted the lid to reveal a pretty solid breakfast as far as you were concerned: a single poptart and two comically large cups of coffee. One was black, the other a latte with a poorly drawn happy face carved into the foam. You would have laughed if you weren’t so stressed out. All of this buildup for a lone pastry and an alarming amount of coffee.

“Where’s the second poptart?”

“I ate it. Obviously. Don’t be ungrateful,” he snapped. “You like wildberry, right? You seem like you would like wildberry. A little fun, a little different. Spice up your life, or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, breaking the poptart into several pieces before taking a bite. “You could have the most elaborate breakfast in the world, and yet you’d prefer to have this?”

“What? I may be rich but that doesn’t mean I like exclusively rich people things. Have you seen rich people food? I mean, probably not but…” 

You tentatively picked up the latte. “Did you poison this? Did you spit in this?”

“Hah, you wish.”

“I wish?”

“I mean, I can if you’d like,” he said, leaning towards you.

“No!” you yelled, making him wince. You lowered your voice. “Sorry, no. I think I’m alright.”

He reached down to pick up the other mug. “This one's for meee.”

“Of course it is.”

He gasped, cradling the side of his face with his palm in mock excitement. “Uh oh. I have an idea. Do you want to spit in mine?”

“I hate this conversation," you sighed. "You’d probably be into that, so I’m gonna say no.”

“Well, how do you know for sure that the cool one is yours?”

You shrugged. “Because I’m cool.”

“You sure about that?” 

“And I know you like your coffee black.”

“Touché,” he said, leaning against the wall across from your bed. You both drank your coffee in silence for a few moments.

“Did you bring this from home?” you asked, pointing to the poptart. 

“No. I made that lanky muppet go buy me a box.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wh...Wait, are you talking about Greg?”

“Yeah, I figured I would send Gumby on a little errand since I apparently can’t do that with you anymore. Since you’re—” he made air quotes with his fingers—“quitting.” 

“Wait, does he even know how to drive in the UK? How did he even get to a store? We’re miles from—” 

“I told him I would make him sleep outside if he didn’t figure out a way to score me some. I have no clue how he got all the way out into the city so fast. Can you believe that? Being tall does have its perks, I guess. His strides had him moving at the speed of light, apparently.” 

You gawked at him again, horrified. 

Poor, poor Greg.

You dropped the remaining pieces of the poptart on your plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.” 

“Oh come on, it’s funny. Don’t let his efforts be in vain.” He took a big gulp of coffee. “Anyway. I was thinking...”

“Why are you dressed like that?” you asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a fitness influencer.”

“I was getting to that. Don’t interrupt me.”

You leaned your head back and groaned. 

“Okay, drama. Calm down. We’re all supposed to go golfing this morning, but I hate golf. I'm pretty sure you do, too. You told me once. So I thought maybe we could, like. I don’t know. Pretend to go for a run like we usually do? Talk? Only if it’s not going to cut into your busy schedule, of course. Ms. Newly Unemployed.”

“Roman, what could you possibly want to talk about? If you’re going to try and convince me to stay, don’t waste your time.”

“I was thinking we could get to know each other, at least a little bit. That way, I would know what to put in your reference letter when you blow this popsicle stand.”  

“Yeah. Like you would write the letter yourself,” you mused. "Like you even could. You can't even reply to an email in a timely manner."

“Hey!”

“Fine. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Like I said, I missed my flight and am feeling like a total idiot. Bet you’re really getting off on that one.” 

He stared at you for a few seconds, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. 

“What?” you asked.

He sighed. “I’m not getting off on it as much as you might think.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“I don’t know how you perceive me exactly, but I have a general idea. And I know this might come as a shock, but like I said, I’m really not that bad. I mean, okay. I am. I am. But not in every situation, not always. I’ll have you know, I do have my moments.”

“Yeah? When?”

“Right now, maybe? Look, I brough—”

“Brought me breakfast. Yeah. I can see that.”

“Which I still haven’t gotten a proper thank you for, by the way.”

“I’ll give you a proper thank you when you give me a proper apology.”

“Fine. Okay, I’m sorry I was a little unreasonable with you yesterday. I’m sorry I, uh…manhandled you when we were getting into the car. Or tried to. Like, really, really tried.You’re pretty strong, you know that?” 

“Is that all?” you asked, cocking your head to one side.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about you and Kendall. And calling you names. I didn’t mean it. That about covers it, right?”

“And?”

“...being a dick?”

You considered not even bringing it up, but since you decided to quit your job, you simply did not care anymore.

“Aren’t you sorry that you lied to me?”

“Wait, what?” he asked, on the verge of laughter. “I didn’t lie to you. Lie to you about what?” 

Your conversation with Kendall rang loud and clear in your ears.

“It’s so good to see you. I wish you could’ve been on the flight with us, but I know you got held up. Work comes first.” 

Work comes first? What did that have to do with there not being enough seats on the jet? 

“Got held up?” 

“Yeah, Roman told us you guys were swamped.” 

“I…I mean, yeah. I’m always busy, but we flew separately because Roman told me there wasn’t enough room on the plane for us.” 

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” 

“Yeah, he said there were some issues with the seats. A few of them needed to be repaired, so there wasn’t enough space for everyone.”

“Are you…oh my god,”  Kendall scoffed. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Ken, I don’t—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Roman, why did we fly here separate from everybody else?”

Roman choked on his coffee, making him stop to clear his throat. “I already told you, there wasn’t enough space for our sparkling personalities on Dad's favorite plane.”

“Not enough space?”

“Yep.”

“You sure about that?”

“Look, no matter what evocative bullshit you send my way this morning, you can’t change my mind. I’ve already decided. I want to make things up to you. So, if you’re upset that I maybe told a little white lie, I’m sorry.”

“So you did lie, then?”

He eyed you sheepishly.

“Sort of. How did you figure it out?"

“I don’t get it. Of all things, why would you lie about that?” 

“I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with me not wanting to hang out with my family in a torture chamber for hours? What if we crashed? You think I wanna die surrounded by a bunch of scorpions?”

“They’re your family!”

“Unfortunately."

“If the two of us crashed together, you’d have died alongside someone that doesn’t even like you. How is that more appealing?”

"Oh, how you wound me," he said flatly. “That may be so, but you don’t annoy me. Not to mention, you only sting me if I sting you first. It’s refreshing.”

You didn’t have the mental bandwidth to analyze that one this morning.

“Alright, fine. But your apology tour isn’t quite over yet.”

“You do know I don’t have to apologize to you at all, don’t you? You’re leaving. You’re basically nothing to me.”

“And yet, here you are.” 

“What can I say? I’m just such a nice guy.”

You both stared at each other for a second before launching into hysterics.

Roman sighed as you both attempted to stop cackling. “You know this is the most you’ve smiled at me in…like, ever? Is that poptart really that good?”

“I just feel relieved is all.”

“And why is that?”

“Why do you think?” you asked. "I'm finally freeing myself from your reign of tyranny."

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, setting down his mug. “We have fun sometimes, don't we? I mean, we got into a blowout argument yesterday and now we're totally fine. Even when we argue, I still don't feel like we're enemies. And believe me, I have a lot of those. Are you sure you want to leave?”

The way he was looking at you was truthfully making you a little sad. But as per usual, he wasn't thinking logically. You were practically attached at the hip every day. Of course there was some level of familiarity between the two of you, even amidst all the chaos. It was easy to mistake for friendship, given how often you were in communication, given how much you did for him. But that was your job.

You had to stop yourself from smiling.

Not anymore, it wasn't.

“Roman, the way we communicate is super dysfunctional. You’ve made me cry multiple times. Yes, I’m sure I want to leave.”

“Ugh," he groaned. "Okay. Look, as far as I'm concerned, you're king shit of fuck mountain right now."

"Excuse me, what?" you laughed.

"What you say goes. Pick a number, I'll increase your salary. Lay out some ground rules. I'm not the most ethically sound person in the world, but I do know how to compromise when it comes to doing what's best for business. And you're probably the only person who can tolerate me, so."

"Roman, I don't think I can come back from yesterday. That was way, way too much. But it's not just you. Last nigh—"

"I was wrong," he interrupted you. "I usually am. Shocker. But here's the thing: you're kind of like...invaluable, to me?" It came out as more of a reluctant question than a statement. His voice was shaky and small as he continued on. "You've, um...helped me a lot. In more ways than one. And I don't want you quitting and just going to work for Kendall again, because I don't really trust him."

"Roman, I can assure you that is not something you will ever have to worry about. Last nigh—"

"Just don't go, please."

You would've been more annoyed with him constantly interrupting you if his voice didn't sound so pitiful, if he didn't look so pitiful. You were caught off guard by the groveling. Not necessarily put off by it, but certainly surprised. This was possibly the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. And the whole breakfast thing; since when did Roman go out of his way to do something deliberately nice for you? It was very obviously to serve his own purposes. He didn't want you to quit, but it didn't seem to come from a bad place.

You had observed him for a second too long, it seemed. He cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure. Just like his kindness, Roman's willingness to be vulnerable also had a very short shelf life.

"If you expect another apology, you can fuck off. And I know you do expect one. But don't actually fuck off, you know what I mean? Out of everybody here, I want you to fuck off the least."

"Wow," you said flatly. "That's amazing."

"I know. I can't believe it, either."

☽ 

kendall 👀👀

@pearlstiare // @ay0nha // @theladyalicnt // @littleladdty @spacebaby1

[wambsgansshoelaces]

hiiii can you write one where reader is always serving as a waitress at the waystar parties and become fuck buddies with shiv but when shiv catch feelings when they're several months later doing this she finds out that reader is a single mom (she has a daughter) and they have a huge fight and "breakup". I need all the drama that comes with it 🙏 ik with shiv being a mess and being mean as hell things will escalate quickly 😂

-🫀

Mind, Body, Soul

Siobhan Roy x single mom!Reader

Oneshot

Summary: what originally was purely physical takes becomes something better.

okay anon I had to change your plot a bit to make everything work but I really hope I pulled through this time!! Idk why I’m not too sure about this one, I just feel like it’s one of my sloppier works. Regardless, I hope you enjoy x, thank you so much for your request, I love you <3

Word Count: 2.987k

Life was unpredictable.

That’s how you’d ended up with your daughter. You love her to bits, and she’s absolutely your world, but she wasn’t exactly planned. Because of that, her father had exited your life as soon as he’d entered it. You didn’t feel too bad about it; the way you saw it, you’d dodged a massive bullet.

She’s four now, and finally able to go to daycare without issue. You finally have more time to yourself. Thankfully, your job wasn’t that demanding, but it paid you well. You were content with what you had. Your daughter, a good job. You feel like you don’t really need anything else.

You’ve been single for a really, really long time. After your last heartbreak, you weren’t exactly out and about, seeking anything out. Deep down, you craved something real. Something actually substantial; that feeling that you’re with the one.

You’d met her at a work dinner. She radiated opulence, something that usually repelled you. Not this time. Maybe it was something else about her. Something in your subconscious, the work of an alternate universe, just something pulling the two of you together.

She’d sidled up to you, sly smile spread on her face.

The rest was history.

Rather to your disappointment, she’d kept you after your first time together and told you you were strictly fuck buddies. Nothing more. Despite being let down, you thought it best.

Time passed. You started off slow, seeing each other every so often. Then, you’d see her whenever physically possible. Not just to enjoy yourselves, but you spend time with each other. You found yourselves curled together, cuddling on the couch while she went through emails.

She’d admitted that she’d just come out of a messy relationship, much like you. You find that you’re both extremely similar; you’re both driven, ambitious. You feel at home with her. You feel so relaxed. You hope she feels the same, but you know she doesn’t. You’re strictly a fling to her- nothing more.

At least, you thought so.

You have one of these conversations when you’re sprawled out on her couch, her leaning against the doorway to her bedroom.

“Listen,” she begins, arms crossed over her chest.

“What is it, Siobhan?” you ask, smirk playing on your lips. She huffs, a cute pout developing on her face. “Ants in your pants?”

“What… What does that even mean? Never mind that. Fucking weirdo,” she mutters, before continuing. “I just want to make something clear. You and I aren’t an item. I’m free to see other people, same as you. No hard feelings or anything. I’m just living, you know?”

You shrug. “We’ve had this conversation before.” From your perspective, it looks like she’s trying to put distance between the two of you. “If you don’t want to see me anymore, just say so. Like you keep saying, no hard feelings.”

Shiv’s nose wrinkles. “What? No, I still want to see you. You’re the best sex I’ve ever had.”

You laugh. “I’m strictly pleasure, huh?”

She opens her mouth to say something, then presses her lips together. “Yeah, you are.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say.” You push yourself into an upright position. “You know you like me more than that.”

Shiv turns away from you, flipping you off over her shoulder.

One night, your daughter’s staying the night with a relative. You go to see Shiv, and to your surprise, she invited you to stay the night.

You’re curled together in bed, rather domestically, you think, her head tucked into the crook of your neck. She lightly presses kisses along your skin, leaving spots wet and red. Not that you minded at all.

“We should do something tomorrow,” she mumurs to you.

“Like what? Fuck again?” you ask, feeling her fingers trace up your hip, up your side.

“I dunno. Maybe. But something else. Something fun. I need a break from work, and I want good company.”

“What happened to strictly pleasure?” you tease, shifting so that she’s draped on top of you.

“Nothing,” she mumbles. “We can still have fun outside of fucking.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” she hums into your neck, leg coming around your waist. Bare skin on bare skin- you feel like you’re in heaven. Your hand finds her ass, helping her adjust and get comfortably. You also can’t stop yourself from giving it a small squeeze, eliciting a rare giggle from Shiv.

“Can’t. My girl has a birthday party tomorrow. It’s a whole fucking dusk-til-dawn ordeal.”

Abruptly, she sits up, squinting at you.

“You’re seeing someone else?” she asks incredulously, brow furrowing.

“What? No, my daughter. Didn’t I tell you?”

She pulls herself off of you completely. “A daughter? Like, a human child?”

You nod slowly. “She’s four.”

“You didn’t fucking tell me that!”

Now you’re also sitting up. “What, is that going to change things?”

Shiv slides off the bed, pulling a robe on. “Yes, it changes things!”

You scoff. “Does it really?”

“You kept something so massive from me! How can I keep seeing you? What else would you be hiding?”

“You’re serious? You’re being serious?” When she gives no response, making her way into the bathroom, you pull your previously strewn clothes on from off the floor. “What’s your fucking deal? You do nothing but insist you can never see me than more than sex, so what’s the problem?” you shout bitterly.

“Fuck off!” is the only response.

You let her do whatever it is she’s doing in the bathroom and gather your things. She’s being ridiculous, and any sort of feelings you’d caught for her are painfully ripped from your chest. You call an Uber, and before you know it, you’re back home.

You’re angry, confused, upset.

Your phone pings with a message.

where’d you go?

fucked off, like you asked.

wtf?

why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?

i thought i did

besides, what’s it matter to you? you want nothing to do with me outside of being your fuck buddy

that’s not something you keep from people

you’re being fucking insane

Shiv doesn’t respond to you after.

You can’t harp on it for long. You have shit to do. Your daughter gets dropped off the next morning, and you greet her with a kiss and a hug. When you smile at her over the counter while you scramble eggs, she frowns.

She sees the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Why’s Mommy sad?” She rests her head on her little hands, glancing up at you, doe eyes soft and concerned.

“Oh, nothing.”

Her frown deepens. “Why won’t you tell me? I want to help Mommy.”

You sigh, scraping eggs into her tiny bowl before setting it in front of her with a fork. She begins eating, cautious to chew with her mouth close like you so often remind her. “Well,” you say carefully, “Mommy’s having issues with a friend.”

“Is It making you sad?” she asks around a mouthful of egg.

“Chew with your mouth shut, you little piggy,” you say playfully, reaching over to pinch her cheek. “And it does,” you add a moment later, rather deflated.

Your daughter wriggles out of her chair, small feet pattering against your hardwood floors as she rounds the counter to wrap your arms around you where she could reach. Your hand immediately goes to her head and strokes gently, and you can’t help but smile.

“It’s sad when my friends don’t want to play. I’ll play with you instead!”

You lean down to plant a kiss on her hairline. “Thank you, cutie. You’re such a sweet girl.” She grins up at you, arms stretching up above her head. Getting the point, you stoop over and hoist her up into your arms, her giggling all the while.

𖥔 ݁ ˖

Siobhan Roy could only take two days away from you. To be clear, you’d never actually had her over at your place. It just felt inappropriate, what with your daughter and all.

She does, however, know where you work.

You can’t remember how it came up in conversation, but it did, and you were sure it did because she was standing outside your office, hands clasped behind her back. You wave her in, trying to not let anything show on your face.

Wordlessly, she sets a square, velvet box onto your desk in front of you.

“I remember you talking about how your favorite bracelet broke,” Shiv says quietly, almost ashamed. “It’s not the same, but it’s something.”

Hesitantly, you reach for the box and thumb off the lid. The bracelet is gorgeous- she’s noticed which metal you wore and got you an awfully expensive, much nicer, much more durable version of the bracelet you’d accidentally snapped when it snagged on a zipper of your daughter’s clothing.

“What’s this for?” you ask nonchalantly. You don’t plan on accepting it after the pointless argument you’d had. She’d made it painfully clear that the two of you would never actually be anything serious. Any reminder of her just made your chest hurt. It’s a deep rooted issue of yours, and you know it. You’d been so agonizingly lonely all your life. You yearned for connection, something real, something pure. Everything you tried, every relationship attempted, it all ended the exact same way. They found someone better, they discarded you, you went back home broken hearted.

“Um, for you.”

“Mm.” You’re not really paying attention, but you catch her shutting the blind to the door in your periphery. You’ve never really seen her like this before, all jittery and nervous. She sits in one of the chairs facing your desk and folds her hands into her lap. “Can I help?” you ask stiffly.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” she blurts, pausing before she continues. “I really, really want you. Not just physically. Fuck, that’s not what this is about. I’m sorry that that’s what we keep making this about.”

“What you keep making this about,” you correct, leaning back into your chair. She bites back a retort, you can tell. “Sorry. Can’t help it.”

Shiv takes a steadying breath, and for a moment, you feel a bit bad for pushing her buttons. “I… I want to commit. To you.”

“Where’d this come from?”

Her gaze flickers from you to her lap then back to you again. “I don’t… I don’t know. It’s just, some nights you’d leave, and I wouldn’t feel detached. I’d miss you. I do miss you. You… you make everything around me better, you make it brighter.” She looks back down, fiddling with her own fingers. “I was just too stupid and self absorbed to see it. And scared. Fucking horrified.”

You don’t know what to say for a while. “You’re suspiciously self-aware,” you say hoarsely, not quite believing what you’d heard.

She can tell. “I’m so fucking serious. I’m past the point of just wanting you for your body.”

You reach back for the box, feeling up the delicate bracelet. “So how do you want to do this? We have shit to sort out if we want this to work,” you reply.

Shiv shrugs. “Just let me try.”

“If we do this, I want you to take this seriously,” you say lowly. “I won’t fucking stand for it if I catch you still going out with other people. If we’re together, we’re together.”

She laughs, an airy, mirthless sound. “I stopped seeing other people the fourth time you came over. I’m yours, already. Mind, body, soul. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re just so..,” she trails off, gesturing vaguely at you.

“Can I ask you something?”

She looks up at you attentively. “Always. I’m an open book.”

“Why’d you overreact?”

She pauses. “I don’t think I did.”

You sigh. “Nothing’s going to work if you keep going like that.”

“You didn’t tell me,” she insists. “That’s something important.”

“Siobhan, I was under the impression I was just a good fuck. Regardless of if I told you or not, what would that have changed?”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, averting her eyes. She takes a moment to think. “I think I was too in my head,” she admits. “In my head, we’re already the cutest girlfriends. And then you tack on your daughter, and I don’t want to just… ignore her, you know? I guess it was just, you know, reality hitting me. And me realizing that I didn’t really care that you have a kid. I want… I want to be with you, to help with her.”

You can feel the heat rushing to your face, your gaze locked with hers. “I… I don’t know what to say. That’s… a lot, Shiv.”

“Just… promise you’ll think about it?” she asks, uncharacteristically nervous.

You shake your head. “No, no. I already know what I want.”

Abruptly, you push yourself up from your chair and quickly round the desk. You brace your knee on the cushion of Shiv’s chair, right by her thigh, and take her jaw and crash your lips against hers. It’s your first real kiss, one not just thrown around during sex, and it’s rough, needy.

She responds the minute your mouths connect, kissing you back with an equal fervor. You deepen the kiss, your other hand fluttering to her chin to tip her head back. She makes a happy, contented noise, lips working against yours. Her hands are braced on your torso, just above your hips. Her fingers scrabble for purchase on the fabric of your clothing.

When she pulls away, her lips are slightly puffed up. Yours probably look the same, and you can’t help but smile at the thought. Shiv’s hands drift down to your waist, letting her fingers trace mindless patterns into your skin.

“You’re very pretty,” she murmurs up to you. “Especially when you’re all worked up like this.”

Your smile splits into a grin and you push off her chair. “Asshole.”

“What did I say?” she exclaims, expression matching yours. “I was just praising my sweet, gorgeous girl.”

“I never agreed to you calling me that,” you point out, going to perch on the edge of your desk. Her face falls, and you scramble to recover. “I’m just saying,” you amend quickly, “that I want you to ask me. For real.”

Shiv gets out of her seat, trapping you where you sit, planting her hands on either side of yours and keeping her eyes focused on yours. “Will you be my girlfriend? Can I be your girlfriend?”

“On one condition,” you say, smile playing on your lips.

She fakes a pout, her face only inches away from yours. You lean forward, brushing your lips against hers. “No silly shit.”

“Of course not.” She lets out a breath, and you can feel it stutter along your skin. “I’m all for you. I don’t know what it is, I just know I’m all fucking yours.”

𖥔 ݁ ˖

Life is easy after you and Shiv get together.

Your ridiculous fight is forgotten, and she’s the most perfect, most attentive lover. The first half-year is a dream. She brings you gifts, invites you over if your daughter is with other family, texts you day in and day out. When she’s not working, she’s pacing your office, talking your ear off about a show she’d begrudgingly watched without you, catching you up to speed so you could watch together the minute you could.

As time continues to leak away from you, the flowers and jewelry keep arriving to your doorstep. She adores spoiling you rotten- she never lets you say anything about it.

But then, the gifts start coming in pairs. One for you, one for your daughter.

A toy kitchenette, a play vanity, princess dresses and heels, play makeup. Shiv hasn’t met her yet, but it doesn’t stop her. As you near and suddenly pass your one year anniversary, you realize you’re so head over heels for Siobhan and you see no future without her in it.

For the first time in your relationship, you bring her home with you.

She hovers behind you as you unlock the door. “What happens if she doesn’t like me?” she asks nervously, voice barely below a whisper.

“Baby, once she realizes you’re the one pay rolling her fantasy Barbie world, she’d kill me in exchange for you.” Before you open the door, you look over your shoulder at her. “Besides, she’d love you regardless.”

Since your daughter is five now, she’s finally started school. It hurt you physically watching her grow and having her leave every day. Shiv had been by your side every single day, wiping away your tears and helping with errands even though you were perfectly capable.

“The bus comes at one?” she asks, following you inside.

You hum your yes, going to make your daughter her afternoon snack as Shiv tentatively sits on the couch, crossing her socked feet under her.

Before you know it, the place is filled with both their giggles as Siobhan Roy whirls your daughter around as if she were an airplane.

𖥔 ݁ ˖

You watch as Shiv sits, cross legged, threading flowers into your daughter’s hair. “You’ll be the prettiest flower girl to walk the aisle,” she murmurs, eliciting a giddy laugh from your daughter.

You’d both forgone the entire first look thing. You want to get ready together, spend time together. It felt more intimate, it brought you even closer together. Once your daughter’s hair was done and she’d ran out of the bridal suite, gone out to play, Shiv comes over to you, silk robe clinging to her body.

“I know I’m not supposed to give you this yet,” she says, turning a beautiful, dainty ring with her fingers. “But I wanted to show you it. I’m just so proud.”

She takes your hand, stroking your knuckles, and holds the ring so you can see an engravement on it’s inner part.

Mind, body, soul.

[senselessviolets]

“dream a little dream of me”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

EXTREMELY dubious consent, somnophilia (reader is in and out of sleep), sleep/drunk sex (both Roman and Reader are drunk but Roman is more active/the one initiating during encounter), smut, alcohol, language, implied Roman eating disorder, erectile dysfunction mention, pervert!Roman, needy Roman, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

A oneshot by @cum-a-calla opened my eyes recently and I realized “Roman + somno” might be my peanut butter & jelly. Like wow. What a concept.  Jokes aside, this fic is dark so PLEASE be wary of the warnings above. <3 

Summary:

Post-S4, Roman and Reader begin to date after working at Waystar Studios together. While they bond and flirt more and more, he continues to keep her at bay. One night, the two get extremely drunk at his apartment and suffice it to say—they both wind up getting what they want.

This was maybe your third or fourth time sleeping over. You honest to god never thought you’d make it this far. For all of his gross jokes and sexual provocations, Roman reviled intimacy.

It’s why when he first started to court you; you were so taken aback. You’d been around; you knew what the mumblings were about his ‘eccentricities’. You were the Director of Creative Affairs at the Waystar Studios L.A headquarters. A position you were remarkably young to have; your famous two-time Oscar-award-winning actress mother and prominent movie producer father having nothing to do with it at all.

Following the Gojo acquisition, Roman withdrew from executive operations, accepting the fact he no longer had a place there. That and he outright refused to be in the same room with Lukas Mattsson.

As such, he returned to the entertainment side of things (this time with no Frank to boss him around) and went back to living in L.A around the clock. Things hadn’t changed much in the three-year hiatus he had from working at Studios. 

Well, except for you. 

It was only in his absence that you got your job. You wondered had he been around during that time, if he would’ve made a stink over your dad pulling the strings and landing you the job. A practice that was completely foreign to him, no doubt. Of course with it being Roman, you knew with full certainty the answer—yes. Because who was he if not the world’s biggest hypocrite/walking contradiction?

You found this to be even more apparent after your first date. Roman made a point of booking the two of you a reservation for the most high-end, gourmet French restaurant in the city. Even though when the waiter came around to your secluded table with the 16 oz beef ribeye he’d ordered, Roman did no more than fidget with the garnish on the plate. 

While on that same date, though he’d surprised you at the beginning of the evening with an ornate bouquet of red roses and white orchids—he didn’t deign to even so much as hold your hand the rest of that night.

Three months later, you and Rome had exchanged a myriad of kisses and flirtatious squeezes around the office. The suggestive texts the two of you exchanged, making tempting offers and filthy propositions. All of that build-up only to result in chaste nights in at his flat, eating takeout and bitching about the latest tentpole flop your studio was in the midst of developing. It could be worse, you thought. To say your needs were being met, though, would be a lie.

Tonight was different. Tonight was heavy. 

The two of you had spent a good portion of the night sprawled out on the wooden floors of his living room, talking about nothing and downing a Japanese whisky neither of you could pronounce. The taste hadn’t left your mouths. You wondered if his would taste the same. 

After deciding to turn in for the night, you gradually make your way toward the master bedroom, stumbling over yourself. He stops you from colliding into the wall several times. You and Roman make the most obnoxious-sounding cackles as the both of you hap-heartedly flop onto his Hastens Superia bed. You let yourself fall deep into the cotton wool mattress, landing somewhere between sleep and a drunken haze.

You feel yourself be pried out of this state as a force slowly turns you so you’re on your back. You can tell by the faint outline of his fluffy hair that it’s him. In this lighting or lack thereof, you don’t really know for sure. You give a weak smile, maybe even whisper a small “hi”. He waits to proceed until the expression has fully faded from your face and the heaviness in your eyelids takes over. His lips made rough with the scratch from his beard, are forcefully pressed onto yours. Once again, you are ripped out of the peaceful purgatory between awareness and slumber you’d just been slipping into. It’s hard to not liven up at the wet sensation of his tongue slipping past your lips. 

Roman hadn’t ever kissed you like this.

Using your chin, he pries your mouth with his index finger so it's more open to him. Briefly, you consider gliding your tongue along his own, to reciprocate the motions, to achieve the taste you yourself so desperately craved. But you didn’t want him to stop. 

To get in his head like he had a tendency to. To sever himself from you yet again.

So you remain still. Pliant. His.

Meanwhile, his one free hand has wandered elsewhere. Roman’s fully straddling you at this point so you can feel a firmness in between his thighs that hadn’t been present before. The hand alternates from palming himself to cupping your bare mound. The chill of his fingers causes you to flinch. You suppose in the arduous journey to get to his bedroom, you must have lost your bottoms. You don’t entirely remember having ever taken them off yourself. 

It would remain a mystery.

The oversized white button-up blouse of yours has opened itself to Roman and his gaze. He moves the opposing sides of the fabric so they’re no longer covering your chest. Roman dives face first, smushing his face against the warm pillowy flesh of your breasts, inhaling deeply. He kneads them with his fingers and takes them into his mouth, sucking more gently than he wishes to. It’s clear Roman wishes not to disturb your ‘slumber’. 

He shows you a devotion other men had hardly shown you when you were fully awake. It was all a jumbled mess in your head. Due to the surrealness of the whole situation but also the liquor as well.

Instead of working his way downwards like most guys naturally would, Roman instead makes his way up to your neck, burrowing his head in the crook near your shoulder. He takes a deeper inhale of the tender flesh there. Eventually his nose prods into your hair which was strewn all over the pillow your head rests on. There were times at the office when you could’ve sworn he took a brief inhale of your hair when sneaking past you. You didn’t say anything. Even after you two had begun ‘dating’, you still didn’t question it.

While Roman halts his movements and lies on top of you, your mind drifts, thinking something to the effect of, ‘if he’s this much of a pervert when I’m asleep at night, what kind of disgusting shit does he get up to in the daytime behind my back’?

You have no time to dwell on the thought because something cold and slender traces your opening. Due to its tensility, you’re able to make out that its his finger that now fumbles around your entrance. There’s no foreplay, no crescendo because in an instant, Roman is inside of you. You can’t help but mumble a whimper at the sudden intrusion. He freezes, keeping the tip of his finger in you. When he sees you don’t stir and go back to sleep, he plunges what feels like his index finger deeper into you. So deep, you fear he’ll run out of space to fill. He stops just before it becomes too uncomfortable. Not that the interaction was all that pleasant. 

Mentally, you were aroused but physically, your body had yet to catch up.

“...not wet,” he says to himself. 

He withdraws his hand quickly, spitting multiple times on his now two fingers, and wedges them both inside of you. The lube of his saliva provides some slick but it’s still making you sore. 

“That better…? Hm…? Yeah…?” he coos, watching your emotionless face, “That what you need..?”

He smirks briefly when he sees your eyes flutter. 

“Oh…you dreamin’, baby? Hm, you dreaming about me?” Roman taunts, in a shrill soft voice, “You better be. You better fuckin’ be.”

You clench reflexively as he says it. Roman drags his lower teeth against the smooth skin of your arm as he continues to pump his fingers into you rapidly. Fast enough that your increasing wetness is audible in the still silence of his bedroom. Roman ceases all of his movements at once, letting out a sharp exhale. Gradually, he removes his fingers from your pussy and a moment passes before you begin to feel something warm and moist being smeared across your lips. You realize it's your own fluids. The notion makes your stomach flip.

Roman proceeds to lick it off your lips. His tongue becomes more and more greedy and taking the opportunity to drag along the sides of your full cheeks. You get the impression this is something he’d thought about doing before, if not entirely because of how slowly he does it. 

He’s fucking savoring it. 

‘This’ll be it. He’ll just continue to fuck around a little more and use it as spank bait later,’ you predict. 

The thought of Roman penetrating you with anything more than his fingers was truly unfathomable. There’d always been the rumor at work about him having ED (though the type of ED varied depending on who you were talking to) and needing the little blue pill to so much as jerk off. You never knew what to make of those claims. You disregarded them. But the stiffness that has been rutting against your hips and waist and thigh for the past half hour had you now wondering; ‘was he gonna go all the way?’.

A few more moments of nothingness pass. Then the metallic sound of a zipper being undone overwhelms your senses—the sonority soon replaced with dread. Even if he did position himself between your legs and bury himself fully inside of your unaroused cunt; ‘what would it really change?’ 

It wouldn’t suddenly make it ‘rape’.

 That ship had sailed several digits ago. 

You were on the pill if he decided to be lazy. You were clean and he had assured you many times he was as well—and you chose to believe him. The answer to your self-questioning was that it would simultaneously change ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’. 

So you brace yourself for his full weight on top of you once more along with the new sensation of being stretched open on his cock.

But it doesn’t come. 

Roman rolls off of you completely, laying adjacent to you on the mattress. There’s the rustling of fabric as he shimmies his slacks down his thighs. Roman’s hand flies to your wrist as he slides his dick into your relaxed grasp. Spitting into his palm and gliding the wet over the head of his cock, he begins to fuck your own fist in earnest. 

The most pitiful, squeaky boyish moans leave his lips and he pants them into your shoulder, hot from the heat of his breath.  

“F-f-fuck…oh f-ff…I…I fuckin’ need this, need this,” Roman whines into your hair, “Oh…oh…ohhh…needed this, need this, fuckin’ need this,”

His hips continue ramming into your hand at the same relentless pace. He’s clearly pent-up. Probably from the months of emotional anguish, familial turmoil, betrayal—with a dollop of grief on top. Small dabs of wetness is felt on your skin. At first, you think he’s drooling from arousal but you later realize those were tears. 

It doesn’t deter from his sheer desperation, his uninhibited need, all on display. 

You had been the one submitting yourself to him but somewhere along the way, the roles seemingly had become inverted. You hold back from biting your own lip. You had made it this far. You couldn’t fuck it up now. Not for him. If he stopped, you felt like you’d die a small death then and there. 

“Oh, please, my sweet. Sweet little thing, please be sweet. Please be good. Please take what you need. What you’ve earned,” you’d chant, if you were even capable of speech, “Please cum. Please cum now.”  

There’s no humanly possible way he could’ve heard your inner dialogue but his hips buck wildly and he unloads into your palm like he did. 

“Thank you, thank you, I needed it, I needed it, baby…oh, I fuckin’...I fuckin’ needed …,” he trails off.

His vibrating body eventually after a long while goes still. You’re able to unravel your hand off of his softening cock. The stickiness between your fingers is still lukewarm. If you had the strength or the agency, you might wipe it off with a Kleenex or onto the sheets or the perv in you may try to sneak a sniff or a lick. But you like him are beyond spent. He stays facing you, laying on his side, now sound asleep with a gentle snore. You remain on your back, shirt ripped open, naked from the lower half, face staring deep, deep into the void of the ceiling. 

It was this empty blackness—this dark—that you slowly felt yourself being compelled to. It’s where your darkest urges liked to dwell. The desires you never felt the courage to voice, even to those you trusted the most. It felt cliche to say you often saw Roman on the other side of this void. You got the impression it’s an island he’d marooned himself on for a long time. Every partner that tried to swim out to him sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor. And there they stayed in the depths of his subconscious. Submerged, sodden, drowned memory of a person that for years would continue to be buried by guilt. By shame. Fear. You refused to succumb to that same fate.

As you let the sleep overtake your tired limbs and melt into oblivion, you swear you see him in that void. Expressionless. He’s numb, like you. He’s scared, like you. He doesn’t know what he wants, much less what he needs. And neither do you. So in the meantime, you silently agree to meet him there in that void. In that black. Again and again. 

As long as you found each other in the end.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[mandobatemans]

intrigue (Tom Wambsgans x f!reader)

warnings: infidelity, fingering, unprotected piv sex, soft!dom tom, size kink kinda, biting, greg, do NOT have sex with the head of conservative news organizations irl!!!, i am a shivcel fr anything negative abt shiv in here i didn't mean it ily siobhan 🫶, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 4,740 (i got carried away)

A/N: this is loosely based on s4 e7 but there's no real timeline so it probably takes place like somewhere around season 3 or 4? this is my first succ fic so...enjoy 🤗 & also this took me SO long to write i'm so deeply sorry to anyone who was waiting

also posted to ao3

Tom had never been a fan of the whole “open marriage” arrangement. When he thought back to that fateful night (fateful night…who else would say that about their wedding night?) what he remembered most was the look on Shiv’s face when she told him that she wanted an open marriage. On their wedding night.

It was more for Shiv anyway. Tom rarely thought about actually acting on the arrangement, whether it be out of love for Shiv or loyalty to her father, he wasn’t sure. Sure, he had kissed someone here or done oral there when high on coke, but he had never actually fucked anyone else.

Something was different, though, tonight. Firstly, they were hosting a Waystar/ATN event at their apartment, and despite being chairman of ATN, he wasn't even sure what the evening was for. Shiv had told him about it last minute, casually mentioning it as they were being driven to work, like it was dinner at Logan’s rather than hundreds of media moguls and politicians to host. Actually, dinner at Logan’s felt equally, if not more, important than tonight. A better equivalent for how nonchalantly Shiv had mentioned it would be Connor inviting them somewhere.

Secondly, Shiv had suggested, outright, that they both find someone to hook up with at the party tonight. Earlier in their bedroom, after getting dressed in silence, Shiv had turned to Tom while putting her earrings in to share the idea. He knew she would be acting on it whether or not he did, and why shouldn’t he? It had been a while since he had gotten laid and was verbally (and physically) assaulting Greg a lot more as a result.

Did he just pick someone? How did you approach someone and say, “Hey, I’m in an open marriage but I’ve never actually done anything more than get my dick sucked with anyone else…anyway, let’s fuck!”

Tom fidgeted with his glass as he surveyed the room.

Despite your personal beliefs and the endless human rights violations that Waystar was affiliated with, their (and by extension ATN) events were some of the most lavish you'd ever attended. As a political journalist, it was standard for your company to send a journalist or two to whatever soirée the Roys were throwing. Everyone took turns, and this time you had drawn the short straw. It hadn’t been too bad so far, you thought, although perhaps you were jinxing yourself. You had kept to yourself mostly, chatting with other journalists you frequently saw around the city on assignments, snacking on the hors d'oeuvres, and listening to the ridiculous conversations political and media bigwigs were having.

You had been to an event hosted by the Roys before, but they were usually at ATN, Waystar, or some expensive venue. Being invited as a member of the press to Shiv Roy’s apartment felt strangely intimate. You were certain this was some calculated business move on the part of one Roy or the other, but you honestly didn’t really care. Whatever drama was happening within Waystar Royco was contained within the Roy family. You were simply here to supplement a piece your coworker was writing on the atmosphere of this political season.

It was only an hour into the party when you had collected all the quotes and interviews you needed, and sampled almost all of the hors d'oeuvres. Your boss expected journalists to stay for most, if not all, of the night for these things, in case some political bombshell were to happen. You were pretty sure nothing too monumental was going to happen in this room full of suits, especially with all of the Roys notably absent from the festivities. Even Shiv, whose house it was, looked like she wasn't paying any attention to what was going on in her home. In fact, she had been in the corner all night, talking to some prominent New York and D.C. women, important enough that you knew their faces but not important enough for you to attach any names to them.

You checked your phone for the time. You could probably get away with leaving in another hour if you made up some family emergency as an excuse for your editor. Even another hour seemed like ages. Maybe you could re-interview some people? Speak to some guests whose quotes would never make it in the article just to kill time? Sighing, you opened your messages, thumbs hovering over the chat with your editor, putting your journalism degree to use by brainstorming an excuse to get you back home in your bed before ten o’clock. When you turned around to pace while you typed (a nervous habit), you found yourself face-to-face with one of your hosts.

It felt like a fucking cliché. Literally bumping into someone at a party? If one of your writer friends wrote something like this, you'd tell them it was bullshit and things like that didn't happen in real life. Yet here you were, inches away from–

“Tom Wambsgans, Chairman of Global Broadcast News at ATN.” He introduced himself, reaching out a hand for you to shake.

You returned the handshake, grateful that he wasn’t offended by you bumping into him. “I know who you are.”

“And I know who you are.” He paused. “That sounded stalkerish, didn’t it? I meant, I know who you are because I’ve read your articles.”

“You have?” You were surprised. Your company and your articles in particular were considered left-leaning, the very opposite of the stories ATN ran.

He nodded. “Gotta keep up with the competition. I’ve seen some of your features on the network, as well.”

“Really? I would have thought you would just watch ATN all day,” you teased.

Tom made a face and then shook his head. “No, no, no. Plus, I wouldn’t really call any of our journalists ‘journalists’ so much as pretty faces. You do your own research and look good on the camera. That’s impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow and Tom’s eyes widened, processing what he had just said.

“God, I do sound like a fucking stalker.”

You laughed, “Just a little bit.” You let him cringe for a second, then smiled to reassure him. “No, but I’ve seen some of your interviews since you took over ATN. You look good on the camera, too.” You paused, before adding, “Maybe that makes us both a little stalkerish.”

His eyes lit up at your response, earning a genuine laugh (the first one that night not faked for some suit, he noted).

“Uh, sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking where I was going,” you explained, waving your phone in your hand for context.

“Ah, cell phone. The curse of the twenty-first century.”

You furrowed your brow involuntarily for a moment. He wasn't how you expected the spouse of a Roy to be like. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, you weren't yet sure.

“I’m making a huge ass of myself, aren't I?” He sighed. “I’ll leave you to the party–”

“No! It’s okay. Stay,” you heard yourself say. It was Tom’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Okay. You found him attractive. And even despite his eccentric comments, you also found yourself wanting to talk to him more. You were, however, purposely avoiding looking at the wedding ring on his finger.

To Tom, it all seemed too perfect. You, for example. He was being honest when he said he had seen and read some of your work and that he enjoyed it, and he did sometimes watch other networks to get an idea of the competition, but he had left out the fact that there was something about you in particular that made him watch the entire segment when you happened to be on air. And the fact that sometimes he'd scroll through your articles online and imagine you reading them aloud to him. But he wasn’t a stalker. And now you were here, in his house, on the night that his wife had all but shoved him into the bed of anyone that he wanted.

But still; one pleasant, slightly flirtatious conversation didn't mean you wanted to ride off into the sunset with him. Or, more accurately, go upstairs with him.

He scanned the room for Siobhan. Although it had been her suggestion, and he knew she had acted on the arrangement before, he still felt like it was somehow a trap. Like she’d hire someone to hide behind the bedroom door that night and catch him with his pants down (literally) to use as blackmail.

But sure enough, she was across the room, laughing at something some lobbyist had said, and resting her hand on the other woman’s arm slightly longer than a casual touch would last.

The longer he thought about it, the more confident he felt. If you were interested, he wanted to spend the night with you. And maybe more. But he was getting ahead of himself.

“It's kind of loud over here. Come on,” he gestured with his head toward the opposite corner of the apartment, one not occupied by any guests save for an elderly politician snoring on the couch.

You followed him, nodding when he asked if you wanted another drink before picking a champagne flute off of a passing server’s tray. He handed it to you once you reached the corner, your hands touching during the exchange. It seemed like even more of a cliché to feel sparks fly at this tiny touch, so you ignored that, as well.

“You host these kinds of things often?” You asked, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of your champagne. The room was full of very important people, though none of them seemed to be talking about very important things. You couldn't quite wrap your head around why a high-level executive who had married into one of the largest media conglomerates was wasting his time talking to you (flirting with you?), but you had seen stranger things in this city.

He grimaced and shook his head. “No, no. I’m usually just a guest.” Tom laughed and took a sip of his drink. “And not a very important one, at that.”

“I’m sure that's not true. I mean, how many people watch ATN? And you’re in charge of what airs or doesn't air.”

“1.89 million,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, “Outside of the office, nobody’s really worried about what I think.”

“Not even your wife?” You stopped after you said the words, giving your brain a second to catch up with your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect, I–”

“No, no, no, no, it’s okay,” he assured you, reaching out to rest a hand on yours consolingly. Tom leaned in closer so only you would hear him, unnecessary considering the secluded corner you two were in.

“But no, not even my wife.”

Your eyes darted to his hand atop yours, suddenly aware of how large his hands were. They almost completely covered yours, and they felt so comfortable and right there, like–

“We have an open marriage,” he suddenly said.

“Oh.”

Tom seemed disappointed with this reaction, quickly removing his hand from yours and adding, “That’s just to say that, our marriage is, uh, unconventional, so her not caring what I have to say isn’t that unusual.”

You were still processing the feel of his hand on yours, much less the revelation that he actually might be flirting with you and that it actually might go somewhere. By the time your thoughts caught up with you, it seemed like he was about ready to excuse himself and go scream at his reflection in the bathroom.

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” you responded, mirroring his gesture from before and resting your hand on top of his to comfort him. “You don’t deserve that, really.”

He scoffed. “You don't know what I deserve.”

You looked up at him, taking the time to absorb the look in his eyes that revealed just how much he was going through.

“Uh, Tom?”

Tom rolled his eyes and turned away from you to snap at the source of the interruption. “What, Greg? Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?”

“It’s just–well, Shiv is leaving with someone.” The taller man gestured at the door, where sure enough, Shiv was weaving her way through the crowd toward the elevators with the lobbyist from earlier, her hand guiding her by the small of her back.

Tom bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, Greg, we do have an open marriage. So, everything’s fine. Now, scram.”

Greg looked between the two of you and hesitated for a second before nodding and disappearing back into the bustle of the party.

Tom turned back to you. “That’s Shiv’s cousin, Greg. I’ve sort of taken him under my corporate wing, so to speak. Showing him the ropes and all that.”

You nodded, finishing your champagne.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” you echoed.

He paused for a minute, though it seemed to last much longer than that. “You’re writing an article about this party, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded, unsure of where he was going with this.

Tom leaned in, lowering his voice. “What would your editor say if you got a behind-the-scenes look at the party?”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Of course, you'd have to come upstairs…” Something shifted in his tone. You were well aware of what the change implied, and you’d be lying if you said you didn't want to jump at the offer. This wasn’t you, though. Sleeping with a married man? On top of that, not just any married man, but the host of the party that you were covering for work. It sounded like a problem you’d encounter on an Intro to Ethics exam. But any moral qualms you had about the issue were pushed out of your head when you registered the way Tom was looking at you.

“Of course,” you repeated, nonchalantly, setting your empty champagne glass on a nearby table.

Something flickered in Tom’s eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, Wambsgans,” you replied, gesturing dramatically.

Neither of you spoke for the entire walk away from the excitement of the party to the quiet of Tom’s bedroom. It looked much like you had expected it to look: modern, chic, and impersonal. You were sure Tom (or Shiv) had some personal items somewhere in the house, but the bedroom was so clean and styled that the only indication anyone slept or dressed in there was some of Shiv’s makeup and jewelry strewn haphazardly on the vanity.

When he had closed the door behind you, Tom stepped closer to you experimentally, as if he was afraid you'd flee like a wild deer if he moved too fast. You stepped closer as well, which seemed to give Tom the permission he was looking for. Within seconds, his mouth was on yours, his hands cupping your face, all tongue and teeth. There was hunger and desperation in the kiss, but it was hypnotizing, beckoning you deeper and deeper. He was almost doubled over to reach you (god, he was tall), so you shifted your weight to stand on your tiptoes.

Tom broke the kiss, leaving you with a confused look on your face.

He shed his suit jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Next, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Tugging on the length of his tie, he loosened it enough to undo a few buttons at his collar, revealing an inviting expanse of chest hair.

“Turn around,” he told you, snapping you out of your male-stripper-fantasy gaze.

You did as he said, something in his tone going straight to your core. You felt him run his hands from your shoulders down your arms, then down your hips and up to your waist, the action bunching up the fabric of your dress. He moved your hair to the side, pressing hot kisses to your neck that made your eyes roll back.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear.

You nodded in response, trembling momentarily under his touch. Tom unzipped your dress, helping you push it down your body and step out of it. He unhooked the back of your bra without moving further. It occurred to you then how wrong this was, to be sleeping with someone else’s husband in their own bedroom, but to your surprise, you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the heat of Tom’s gaze on your bare back. You took your bra off the rest of the way and discarded it on the ground next to your dress. Once in only your underwear, you turned back around to face him, watching his eyes follow every curve of your body to drink in the newly exposed skin.

“Wow,” he said, simply, reaching out to grab you by the hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re gorgeous.”

Grinning, you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again, cradling his face in your hands. You felt him smile back into your kiss. Before you knew it, he had you pressed against the wall, totally enclosed by his larger form. He went from kissing you on your lips to your neck to behind your ear to your chest, as if he couldn't decide which spot deserved the most attention or for how long.

One of his hands slid down to the waistband of your underwear, the cold metal of his wedding ring a shock against your hot skin. You made eye contact with him as his hand slipped between the fabric and your skin cup your cunt, whining when you felt his touch. He seemed to get off on that, capturing you in a kiss again at the same time he slipped a digit into your wet heat. You were too hot; you pressed your hand to his chest to stabilize yourself and pushed your underwear down your legs and kicked them off. Tom smiled at this, getting right back to pumping his finger in and out at a pace that almost made you melt down the wall.

It was probably a power trip thing, you thought, you totally naked and him almost fully clothed. You didn't mind because it was kinda hot, but it wasn't what you had expected from Tom based on the unassuming, Midwestern image of him that was circulated in columns and by the Roys themselves. But, then again, you hadn't expected to find yourself in this position at all when you left your apartment earlier that night.

The pace of his fingers felt so good, so intoxicating, that now that you had him, you needed more of him.

“A-another one,” you whined between kisses.

When you opened your eyes to look at him, Tom had a smug look on his face. Sure, it was arrogant, but it turned you on, so who really cared? “Yeah?” he asked, “You want another one?”

“Tom,” you hissed, gripping onto his shoulder as his finger curled in just the right way that it made your legs go numb.

The look remained on his face, but he added another finger nonetheless. Tom appeared to inhabit both extremes when it came to sex: he really wanted to pleasure you but he also really wanted to do what he wanted. Luckily, those two wants aligned.

He was making you feel so good that you needed to have more of him. Your kisses got sloppier, each so desperate to be further molded with one another that your tongues tried to push impossibly further into the other’s. Tom shifted his hand so he could angle his thumb to rub slow, tantalizing circles on your clit as he continued to pump his fingers. Your grip on his shoulder tightened–you feared your fingernails would leave dents in his skin–but like so many other things tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could feel the pressure rising in your middle, your cunt clenching around his fingers in anticipation of your impending orgasm, but then it stopped.

You opened your eyes that you hadn't realized were squeezed shut to look at Tom, who had his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with your slick. “Open,” he encouraged. You obeyed, accepting his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean with a ‘pop.’ He stared at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. He jerked his head toward the bed. “Sit.”

There was authority in his commands, but you didn’t fear him; from the short amount of time you had spent with him, you knew he was at his core a sweet man. You would admit to yourself that you had been curious how his awkward, nervous energy would translate into the bedroom, but once alone, he seemed to be a different man.

You watched him strip off the rest of his clothes eagerly, smiling up at him once he rejoined you on the bed totally naked. He must’ve noticed you staring, because he asked: “Do you want me to put on a condom?”

You shrugged, shifting your eyes back up to his own. “No, it’s okay. I'm on birth control.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I don't even know if I have one in here.”

“Then why’d you ask?” You laughed, encouraged by the smile that crossed his face when you did so.

“Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. If you said yes, I would’ve sent someone to go get one or borrowed one from–”

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Just fuck me already.”

“Alright. If you say so,” he teased, leaning down over you to kiss you. Both your lips were red and puffy from all the kissing and some biting, but it didn’t matter. You could feel his cock pushing against your stomach from the angle, so you reached down to take him in your hand and pump his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your skin, face buried in your neck as he pressed kisses to the every inch of available flesh, “Fuck…Can I?”

“Please,” you responded, noticing a little desperate hitch in your voice that you ignored. Tom licked his hand and cupped your sex with it, running the pads of his middle fingers through your folds a few times to collect the wetness between your legs. Gently, he guided his length into your opening

inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort before bottoming out.

You should’ve expected his dick to be big from his height, the size of his hands, his nose, whatever, but you hadn’t considered just how big. It was quite a stretch to take him fully, but he gave you all the time you needed to adjust and get comfortable. When you were ready, you bucked your hips up into his to give him the okay.

Tom took your permission to move and ran with it, grabbing your left leg and placing it over his shoulder before pressing you down further into the mattress with his body weight so he could thrust into you at a deeper angle.

You lifted your head to meet him to return to making out, the sensation of his tongue down your throat even more erotic now that he was inside of you, as well.

His thrusts were deep but not as aggressive as he had been with his fingers. He wouldn’t vocalize this, or even admit to himself that he was thinking this, but he wanted this to last. As much as it was supposed to be a hookup–emotionless sex–he found himself wanting it to happen again, despite his attempts to push those thoughts deep into the recesses of his mind.

One arm was thrown around Tom’s neck, hand gripping a fistful of his hair. Your other hand went down to your clit, beginning to rub circles to match the pace of his thrusts.

“You wanna cum again?” He teased, “Again, when I haven't cum once?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, playfully, slipping your finger down from your clit to lightly stroke the length of his cock that wasn't fully inside of you.

He let out a moan, eyes twinkling as he snapped his hips a little harder, snickering when you gasped in response.

Tom caught you in another kiss, resting his weight on his forearm that was positioned next to your head. You arched your back up into him, urging him deeper, which he obliged. “Touch yourself,” he said, disconnecting his mouth from yours just long enough to give the command.

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your clit again as his thrusts became sloppier and jerkier. He was holding on until you came again, despite his earlier cockiness. The moment he felt your walls tighten around him, he let go, spilling inside of you with a grunt.

He pulled out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

Tom was still catching his breath, and you watched his chest heave for a few moments. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, nodding and reaching over to kiss him again. “I'm good, yeah. You?”

“Perfect, actually.” Tom smiled back at you. He found himself lost in the moment, lost in your eyes, lost in the connection you two had just had, and it was too much for him. Quickly, he sat up, ready to change the subject. “You need to clean up?”

You furrowed your brow at the sudden shift in his demeanor, but going along with it nonetheless. Despite him just having been inside you, you didn't feel like it was your place to mention the change. “Yeah. Can I?” You asked, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Go ahead. Towels are above the sink.”

You flung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, heading toward the bathroom. “I’ll just clean off real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No, no, no. I mean, you can stay the night. If you’d like, that is. I could call you a car, though, if I’ve made some awful faux pas and you don’t want to look at me for another–”

“Tom.” He focused on you again after his brief spiral. “I would like to stay.”

He grinned. “Great, that's great.”

“Just let me–” You waved your hands around your lower body, “–clean all this up.”

“Yeah, of course, sure. I’ll be here.” He added the last part in a quasi-sing-song voice.

At the sound of the shower turning on, Tom rose to locate his clothes and try to clean up. He pulled his boxers back on, taking his dress shirt, pants, & jacket to be thrown into the hamper. They really should be dry-cleaned, he considered, but found that he couldn’t be bothered. As for your clothes, he wasn’t sure what exactly to do with them, so he laid your dress across a chair in the bedroom and left your bra and underwear on the floor. He was still considering whether he should pick them up or not when you came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your torso.

Once you had dressed in your undergarments again and Tom had given you an undershirt to sleep in, you started to wonder what all this meant. If it had just been a hookup, why were you staying the night? You had thought you’d feel dirty and disgusted with yourself, spending the night in someone else’s bed with someone else’s husband, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what that said about you, what it meant that you were perfectly comfortable talking into the night with Tom, both laughing and sharing stories long after you had agreed to turn the lights off and get some sleep. That almost made it worse, you thought, that it wasn’t just sex. That made it dangerous.

After you had drifted off, Tom spent a few minutes watching you sleep. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, watching the worries of the day wash off your face while you slept. He knew it was wrong to be more comfortable in this bed with you than he was with his own wife. But that was something to deal with (or repress) in the morning. Here, now, with you wrapped in his and Shiv’s bedsheets, your form against his chest rising and falling with his breaths, he could pretend it was meant to be like this.

@swiftcession @greenwrldsz @zirrocom @lukas-matsson @ledtassoo @bluecruz97 @rita-lean @grainyimag3

[succcession]

Which Roy Brother is the Cutest? Part 1

Description: When you started your new job as Roman Roy's new assistant, you expected coffee runs and sending fax. This expectation is quickly thrown out the window as you find yourself falling in love with your boss and his older brother.

Pairing: Kendall Roy x Reader, Roman Roy x Reader

“Roman, you’ve got to be fucking joking? What is this about?” You grumbled to yourself, looking back down at your phone displaying the 2am texts you had received from your boss.

Two months ago when you had first applied to be the assistant to the son of Media Mogul Logan Roy, it was simply a passing thought. You were broke and needed some kind of real job to support yourself as you tried transforming this whole ‘starving artist’ gig, into an actual career as a painter. Now it seemed you had fully dove into his traumatic but extravagantly packaged world. You rarely went a day without him giving you something absurd to do, tasks that definitely were not in your job description. Just last week he made you fly to California so you could bring him back dessert from his favorite restaurant. Then complained that “it didn’t taste fresh” and “could be compared to what they’re served in Guantanamo”. 

Although Roman was difficult and had zero filter when it came to expressing himself, you two had an understanding. Despite only working for the youngest Roy for about 2 months, since the beginning he always felt more like an older brother telling you what to do then your boss. 

The boss/employee relationship quickly turned into a real friendship after only a month of working for him. He had invited you to your first charity gala. Bringing you along to gain experience with helping him win over new investors. However, you two quickly turned the night into a drinking game of ‘you must take a drink of champagne every racist or sexist comment you hear’. You both stumbled out of the gala that night as a new pair of drunk best friends.

While waiting for Roman to answer your questions about the Elon situation, your mind began to drift back to the first time you met Roman Roy. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” You asked yourself harshly, your hands shaking as you cautiously walked through the spinning doors of the glistening Waystar Co. skyscraper.

 “I’m here for an interview with Roman Roy” you say to the front desk receptionist, giving a light smile you hoped covered the fear you know is seeping from your eyes. “God, do you think she can tell how nervous I am?” You questioned anxiously in your head, already beginning to fidget with the seam of your pencil skirt. Your paranoid thinking quickly interrupted by the receptionist. 

 “Mr. Roy’s office is located on the top floor. Please head up and someone will be waiting for you there.”

You had always thought of yourself as outgoing, adventurous, maybe even a little fearless. However, as you walked into the office of the son of one of the richest men in the world, all of the courage slipped from your body. 

“Hello!” 

A voice yelled as the grandiose office chair in front of you spun around slowly to reveal a least intimidating looking small man. 

“I’m Roman Roy.”

“Did you like that introduction? I was going for kinda like an evil villain vibe” He said dramatically, letting out a chuckle at his own joke

You were at a loss for words. 15 seconds into the interview and it was already weird, but in the opposite way from what you had expected. Shouldn't he be wearing a tie? Why is he making jokes? Is now a good time to shake his hand? Were all questions you asked yourself before responding.

 “Uhh yeah, it was great. I mean… I was intimidated” you stumbled letting out a light giggle. Hoping he would respond positively to your attempt at joking back. 

“Ahh and that brings me to my first point, possible future assistant” he stated loudly. “I don’t just want someone here to follow me around and suck my dick. I need an assistant just as driven and blood thirsty as me. Someone with opinions and fucking I don’t know good ideas!” 

“Blood thirsty?” 

You thought to yourself. You were under the assumption being an assistant meant getting coffee, making copies, sending faxes. You know, office stuff!

You watched as Roman paced the room, loudly rambling about “becoming CEO” and “burning alive anyone who fucks with him” As you listened you realized your nerves had disappeared. Something about his brashness, the constant swearing, or maybe the endless sexual comments made him feel… human. Despite being well worth over a billion dollars. 

“Well” you stated, finally finding a brief pause to interrupt his cadence. 

“Although I don’t exactly come from this high executive world, maybe that could be of benefit to you.” 

You weren’t exactly sure where you were going with this, but you knew he had likely been interviewing highly qualified Yale graduates all day and you had to stand out. You let your poised interview personality fall away and began to speak honestly.

“All these Ivy League guys that have walked in here will say anything to make you happy. Do anything to increase their position in the company, and honestly, Mr. Roy…I have no interest in climbing the corporate ladder.”

This was true. You honestly didn’t care enough about money to try and use the Roy family. You just needed a job to pay for rent, buy weed, and go out every once and awhile. 

“However” you continued “I am the only one who will be honest with you even if it’s not what you want to hear. And I understand the average person. I can provide you with real insight into how to gain leverage with the public.” You said confidently attempting to convince Roman but also yourself. 

Roman finally stopped his pacing and sat back down in his large office chair. Saying nothing, hands in front of his face with his fingertips touching. The stern look he had on his face made you begin to panic again. Maybe the overly honest approach was too passé, not “blood thirsty” enough. 

Roman breathed in deeply and began listing your flaws. “Well you’re highly under qualified, clearly lacking in professionalism and have zero genuine interest in the company” 

You looked down at your hands ashamed. Fuck, he was right. Why did you even walk into this building? Why did you try to play it cool?

“But” Roman drew the word out longly while spinning childishly in his office chair. “I think that’s…exactly what I’m looking for!” turning his frown into a devilish grin and jumping up. “You’re hired!” He stated placing his hand out 

“What?” You gasped leaving your mouth hanging open slightly. 

“Yes! You! You’re hired! I am hiring you.” He said sarcastically annoyed “Now shake my hand before I change my mind or something” 

You shook Romans hand more aggressively than you had intended as your excitement grew, while expressing repeatedly “Thank you, thank you Mr. Roy”

“Ew, no. Don't do that. Just call me Roman.”

[reveriexxgirlly]

you want a piece of me ? (repost)

Shiv Roy x Fem!Reader SMUT

Prompt: I want Shiv to dom and humiliate me, okay ?

Warnings: oral, orgasm denial, voyerism, fingering, squirting

Word Count: 2.0k

                                  ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤　enjoy !　﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

“Oh my god, don’t stop. Please, don't- Fuck!"

I felt a sharp pain on my ass. I looked down and saw Shiv peering at me from between my legs with her glossy lips scowling at me.

“God, can’t you shut up? Do you want us to get caught?”

Shiv used the hand that slapped me to grip the fleshy part of my ass and started digging her nails into my skin.

I almost moaned out loud until I caught myself and quickly clamped my hand over my mouth to muffle my sounds.

“That's better.” Shiv said as she began giving me butterfly kisses on my inner thigh while I was trying to catch my breath.

“I’m sorry. I promise to shut up, just don’t stop. It feels so good.”

I responded with a sense of urgency because it was only a matter of time before everyone, specifically Tom, would begin to wonder where Shiv was.

Shiv smirked at my desperation, pleased that even though she was on her knees eating me out, it was her that was in control.

“Good girl.” That was the last thing she said before moving her head back to my center, taking my clit between her lips, and began sucking on it softly.

I clamped my hand over my mouth again and bit down on my palm hard. Stopping myself from letting out another loud moan. 

How the fuck did I get here? I came to this celebratory event for Waystar as Roman’s date, and now I’m in the women’s bathroom with his sister's face between my legs. Why did I let this happen?

I looked down to admire the sight before me. I was leaning against the wall with one leg holding me upright and the other on Shiv’s shoulder. Her eyes closed in complete bliss, as if she was savoring the taste.

Although her suckling made it hard to stand on a wobbly leg, it wasn't enough to make me cum. It wasn't like we had all the time in the world.

I tried moving my hips against her lips to reach an orgasm faster, but she kept pushing my hips against the wall to keep me still.

“Shiv, I need more.”

“Aw baby, you're not the one calling the shots here. I am.”

“We need to hurry, people are waiting for us. Tom is probably wonderi-”

“Don't say his fucking name.”

She gave me a cold stare. I seemed to have struck a nerve mentioning Tom, given the situation. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up Tom.”

Shiv stared at me as she was thinking, tapping her slender and manicured pointer finger on my thigh. After a few seconds her face lit up. All she needed was a light bulb on top of her head. 

“You know what, you’re right.”

“W- what?”

Shiv placed a final kiss on my clit, making me shiver from her light touch. She got up from between my legs and fixed up my dress. Making sure I looked presentable. Then she grabbed my panties from the ground before leaving the stall we were in and throwing them away in the trash bin. 

I stayed in the stall feeling stunned before desperation hit me once I realized I didn’t cum. I walked out to see Shiv standing in front of the mirror, reapplying her lipstick. 

“We should be getting back. You were right, we were gone for too long.” Shiv said nonchalantly.

“But...” I couldn’t finish my sentence, feeling foolish for what I was going to complain about. I looked down at the ground in shame.

“But what?” Shiv said turning to look at me with a bored expression.

“I didn’t get to cum.” I said quietly, glancing up at her and seeing Shiv pout her lips mockingly before she cupped my face with both hands and forced me to look up at her. 

“Baby, don’t worry. We’ll get to that later.”

Shiv said with a mischievous smirk, that both confused and worried me.

“Come on.”

Shiv said before she taking hand and pulling me out of the bathroom. We were walking through a crowd of wealthy people bickering, when Shiv finally spotted Tom. She let go of my hand and walked toward him.

“Shiv!” Tom said excited to see her as if she just arrived from a long trip when it’s only been 20 minutes.

“Hi honey.”

Shiv leaned up to Tom's face, who wanted to kiss her on the lips, but she avoided it and kissed him on his cheek instead. He was a little embarrassed by this, but considering she was eating me out a few minutes ago, I was grateful.

I cleared my throat before speaking up. 

“Hi Tom, where’s Roman?”

"I think he’s at the bar getting a drink with Logan.”

“Where were you guys?”

I was about to respond when Shiv beat me to it.

“Y/N and I were just in the bathroom talking.”

Tom was nodding at Shiv, then an announcement was made for everyone to take their seats since the speeches were about to begin.

“Shall we.”

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

It had been a few minutes since we all took our seats. I sat next to Shiv on my right, and there was a reserved seat for Roman on my left. It’s then I began to wonder where he was.

“What up, cum dumps?”

We all whipped our heads at Roman, walking up to our table, who looked so proud of his vulgarity. While Tom and I stared at him in bewilderment, Shiv rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Hi Roman. Where were you?”

I said as he was taking a seat next to me. He looked at me, and his face lit up like he remembered that I was his date.

“I was talking to ol’ daddy about business, nothing too major.” Roman said, brushing off the situation like it was nothing.

“The better question is where were you? I didn’t see you around the room for like 30 minutes.”

I could feel the tension in the air when he asked that question, but of course, no one but Shiv and I could feel it.

“I went to the bathroom with Shiv.”

“What took you guys so long? Were you flickin’ each other’s clits in there?”

“Roman!”

Shiv scolded him, and Roman pretended to look scared of his sister’s irritation.

“No we were just talking, I didn’t realize how much time was passing us by.”

I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. I didn’t want Roman, out of all people, to catch on to what was going on between me and Shiv.

Before he could question me any further, the party planner spoke into the microphone. I let out a breath of relief, but during his speech I remembered the wetness between my legs, feeling it between my thighs. I hoped it wouldn’t seep into my gown, so I crossed my legs to try to prevent that.

I was squirming in my seat, and Shiv must’ve noticed because she leaned back into her chair and placed her hand on my thigh.

I tensed at the action and straightened my posture. I could see from my peripheral vision that it made Shiv smile.

Luck played a huge part in this situation. We were close to the stage, but behind us were walls from the sides of the room. Tom faced away from me, Shiv, and Roman, who paid no attention to me. Switching his attention from the person speaking on stage to looking at his phone. Not to mention the large white table cloth covering what went on underneath.

Shiv used her fingers to slowly pull my gown up to my hips. The action fed into my anticipation, although I worried that people would happen to catch on to what was going on under the table. 

Once the fabric gathered on my hips, she placed her hand on top of my thigh and lightly gripped the flesh to uncross my legs. I felt the cold breeze of the air conditioning brush against my wet lips, making me feel exposed in front of all these people. That’s when I thought back to when Shiv threw away my panties earlier for this purpose.

She started teasing me by running her fingers through my unshaven pubic hair, which was covered in my slick. I bucked my hips into her hand as a sign to give me more, resulting in a pinch in my inner thigh. I squeaked at the sharp pain but covered it with a cough. 

I turned to look at her, and her attention was on the guest speaker on stage, still smiling at our current situation. She glanced at me, noticing my teary eyes and the pout on my lips, and decided to give in. 

Shiv’s fingers landed on my clit and rubbed slow and tight circles. My pussy was so wet it spread everywhere from my lips to my clit, so she didn’t need extra lubrication. 

It continued until the entertainment for the night started, an interpretive dance which meant that loud music would be blaring throughout the room. So Shiv took the opportunity to slip her middle finger into my dripping hole. 

Unlike her gentle touch on my clit her pace started to get a more aggressive. The wet sounds of her fingers slapping against my pussy were being masked by the orchestra. The louder the music got, the faster and harsher her pace would be. 

There were moments when I wanted to scream, but I made sure to bite my bottom lip extra hard to prevent any sounds from escaping my mouth. I almost failed when Shiv added her ring finger into my pussy. 

It was starting to become too much, and her rough thrusts into my slit were resulting in her palm repeatedly slapping against clit, bringing me closer to an orgasm. 

I squeezed her wrist between my legs to let her know I was close. She seemed to get the hint and started going impossibly faster than before. My orgasm finally hit me, but this time felt different. I felt like I had to pee but I didn’t want to cause a scene so I relaxed as much as I could and let my pussy gush all over her fingers. 

I shivered from the aftershocks of my orgasm. I pushed Shiv's hand away when I started feeling overstimulated, and Shiv got the hint and pulled away. She grabbed her cloth napkin and wiped her hand. I noticed that not only her fingers but her wrist were wet. I looked down and noticed that the bottom hem of the tablecloth was drenched. I had squirted under the table and all over the cloth.

I panicked and pushed my dress down and back into place. I looked around the room to make sure no one witnessed the event that happened under the table. I felt relief when I saw that everyone appeared to be unbothered and slightly bored. I turned my attention back to the stage, and the rest of the ceremony continued as planned. 

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

When the event was over, I waited for my Uber on the curb in front of the building where the event was held. Roman offered to give me a ride as long as it was back to his place. I eagerly declined and hoped it would be the last of any invitations from Roman Roy.

“Y/N!” 

I heard someone call my name and turned around and saw Shiv lifting up her dress a bit as she was speed walking towards me.

“Shiv, what’s up?”

“I forgot to give you this.”

She handed me her business card. I was confused until I turned the card over and noticed her personal number written in pen. I started blushing at the thought of our future meet-ups being similar to tonight.

"We should definitely make plans to meet up next week because I think owe you more than one.”

She was pleasantly surprised by my answer and smirked before she leaned in, her lips nearly touching my ear.

“Can’t wait.”

She whispered before she kissed my cheek and again on the other one so it would seem like a normal goodbye gesture to others.

Shiv gave me a final wink before she walked away to her ride back home with Tom. 

I turned back around to wait for my ride and thought further about ways I could return the favor. 

[leviathanspain]

I saw you did white mustang for Tom can you do black beauty with Kendall my number one depressed boy 😭 where reader tries to comfort him ☹️

black beauty

kendall roy x reader

synopsis: a rough night after work leaves you to pick up the pieces of his number one boy

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

kendall was the love of your life.

sure he was this tortured, ex-addict, corporate executive with a divorce and two children under his belt, not to mention the crazy pressure his own father puts on him.

but you loved him more than words could ever say.

“hey!” you yelled your greeting as you tried to zip through the crowd of other new yorkers, all moving to their own complicated lives.

“hey..” just by his greeting you knew something was wrong. “where are you?”his voice sounded a little strained, and you ignored his question.

“what’s wrong, ken?” you knew him better than anyone. you knew his cues and tones like the back of your hand, you knrw when something was wrong.

he didn’t say anything for a moment. he stayed silent, perhaps hoping you’d be like the rest of his family, and turn a blind eye.

“i-“ his voice broke and you didn’t need to hear more. “i’m coming to you. send a pin, location, whatever, ken.” you hung up the phone quickly and tightly gripped your bags, hustling through the crowd off to kendall.

you fought tears the entire ride home. after a few minutes, he had sent his pin and location, which was at your apartment. you knew that whatever it was, had to do with his father.

lately, since shiv’s wedding, kendall came back different. he wouldn’t tell you, he actually preached that he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to. he told you everything, because you weren’t in that world, you didn’t know how bad of a person he actually was.

you pushed your apartment door open, letting the doorknob smack against the wall as you walked inside.

“ken?” you called his name, quickly scanning the living room. you searched the rest of it, “kendall?” you pushed your bedroom door open, and found him sitting on the edge of the bed.

you had been there for him during the highs and during the lows. but by the looks of it, this was a dangerous low.

you got on your knees, crawling to his side. his head was down, eyes squeezed shut tightly. there was defeat present in his shoulders. you put a hand on his thigh, and kendall sighed heavily, “i- dad told me to scrap vaulter.” he opened his eyes, finding yours quickly.

you stared into his with so much love that he couldn’t understand why. he sighed, almost as if he wanted to sob br you cooed softly, “it’s okay, ken.”

you moved to sit next to him, grabbing his arm in yours, and leaning your head on his shoulder, “do what you must.” you offered your best advice, not really well-versed on corporate speech. kendall taught you what he could, when he wasn’t getting shit on by his family.

you spend as little time as you can away from them, they were like a spider’s web, and you were just an innocent fly. only when kendall requested you to be by his side, that you went. but shiv’s wedding was something you stayed away from. you knew what they were capable of, they tore down kendall whenever one of them felt like it, and it broke your heart everytime.

“everything i’ve ever done has been for waystar. it’s been for him.” he gritted. you could feel the anger he had towards his father. but kendall wanted nothing more than to make him proud.

he had told you of the little nickname that logan gave him.

his number one boy…

you thought it was sick. he clearly pit all his children against each other, like dangling a carrot in their faces. kendall couldn’t see it, it was all he’s ever known.

“ken- listen to me,” he turned, all ears. “you’ve got to leave waystar.” you realized how your words sounded and you tried to save them, “we can travel the world, you can finally be free-“

“no-“ kendall stood up, shaking his head and you stayed seated, trying to diffuse whatever bomb you accidentally set off.

you nodded, “okay. don’t leave, hmm?” kendall nodded, and calmed down slightly. you opened your arms for him, and kendall, who had shoved away affection for his work, now found himself hugging you, clutching you as if you’d disappear in his arms.

“i love you.” kendall whispered into the darkness. you had retired to bed, with kendall as your little spoon. the lights had been turned off and it had only been the sound of your breaths.

you hummed, kissing his cheek, “i love you more, kenny.”

kendall laughed, “god i haven’t heard that name in a while.” he seemed at peace, in the arms of the woman he loved, even if his professional life was in shambles.

“that’s because you’re never home.” you teased him, yet it felt like more than that.

“i’m sorry.” kendall whispered, “i’ll be better.”

a hand raked the side of his head, brushing his hair down, you knew you hurt him a little with that. but sometimes, all he needed to hear was the truth.

“goodnight, kendall.” you kissed him, relaxing your head on the pillow, hands tightening around his waist.

if he responded, you didn’t know because your eyes were shut the moment your head hit the pillow.

[vclvetfleur]

Obedient Chapter 18

Roman Roy x fem! reader

Summary: Kendall's attempt to recruit the family to join him had desperately failed. Roman and you recover from his insecurity issues.

TW: Logan Roy, parental trauma, verbal abuse, panic attacks

WC: 5.6K

Notes: As soon as I was about to post Tumblr was down!!!

Chapter 18: One Direction Interviews

After the media storm that was Kendall’s stunt against his father, work was a complete nightmare. You had left Roman’s apartment with him to only have to wait in the car for what seemed forever to have the guards clear the pathway for the both of you. The media hounded and shouted with protestors screaming horrific things. You kept your head low, grabbing onto Roman’s forearm in hopes of not getting lost in the crowd. “Fucking psychos…” Roman said to you loud enough for you to hear over all the yelling.

You both escaped the crowd and walked into the building to only see the horrors of the office as people were scrambling. “Fucking Kendall…” Roman was obviously annoyed. The office was trying to keep all its investors in place. It was bad enough that the scandal was getting to them, but a family member speaking against the company, the CEO, and his father made it worse. You sat in Roman’s office, making calls before being interrupted by Gerri. She had her phone in hand, clearly annoyed. “You both have issues. Right now.” She showed us her phone and saw another headline. But the headline read about Roman. You read the title, your heart sinking immediately after.

‘Roman Roy, Waystar CEO son, caught multiple times with young assistant.’

There had been photo after photo of the two of you, mostly from the night before and this morning of the two of you being close and sneaking off to go to Roman’s apartment. You had been named, with your age being prevalent in the story. The article went into detail about apparent sources finding out about the relationship early on along with lies. The lies just went into multiple inappropriate comments Roman had made towards you and a possible pressure to sleep with your boss. And worst of all, “Roman kissed her and got really mad when she rejected him. She felt like she needed to apologize to him by running to his house 2 days later. That’s the earliest I think their relationship started”. You felt sick. The article made it a point to constantly bring up your age difference about you being a broke out of college student, ‘just freshly 22’, as the article stated, and Roman being 36. The article was a complete smear campaign against Roman, essentially painting him off to be some kind of predator. You had no idea how anyone could’ve known this. Who the fuck could’ve gone to the press about this? There was only one person. Jess. You went into panic, standing up and pacing as Roman was still reading what was happening. “This is bad. We need to issue a public statement.” Gerri tried to find the best way to figure out how to stir this into a direction that could’ve been better. This only made the sexual assault scandals worse. Waystar made it a point to denounce the actions and compared it to something of the past, to only see that maybe the CEO’s son is also taking advantage of his power. “Where do you guys wanna go with this?” She asked. You had no idea. Roman just was going to listen to whatever advice the PR team had for the two of you.  “I’ll just send in Hugo and Carolina.” She mumbled before texting them to come in. They rushed in and sat on the couch that was in Roman’s office. This was probably the most anyone has ever even gone into his office.

Hugo sat you both down, your leg bouncing up and down nervously as Roman was oddly calm about it. He was only nervous about one thing, and it was his father. He knew Logan would be pissed about the article. But they didn’t have the heart to tell him yet. Not for a bit anyway.

“Okay, well I’m going to be completely honest with the two of you, this is bad. Especially now. This is the worst case scenario right now admit the scandal.” Carolina started as she scrolled past her notes. Hugo had already made a call to every major interviewer who didn’t belong to ATN. It would only raise suspicion if you, a member of the company, spoke to the company's news network. “Janice Reeds is coming in half an hour. We need to prep now.” Hugo announced.

“Wait- wait, what’s the move though? Gerri-“ You looked at her for help, but she shrugged. “Sorry- we only can make this public.” Hugo responded. “No, that’s smart. It’s the only option we have. I mean- these pictures date back pretty far.” Gerri shrugged. It was honestly the only thing you both could do. Roman’s hand covered his mouth, deep in thought as he stared at everyone. “So, you’re gonna have to talk to her and just make up some story about how you both got together. Just make this as fairy tale as you can.” Carolina chimed in. You glanced over at Roman, concerned about your life now being turned upside down. You never expected people to ever know who you were. Now everyone knows your name, age, where you work, and the person you’ve been practically seeing for months now. Worst of all, they know it was your boss. “How did it start?” Hugo asked. “Exactly like the article, except cut out all the rapey part.” Roman finally spoke up. He rubbed his forehead, looking at you apologetically, his eyes growing softer whenever he looked your way.

“Okay- well, that’s not good enough. We need to make this like it was her decision.” Carolina cut it off. Roman felt a sinking feeling of guilt of this ending up biting you so harshly. You nodded, trying to think of how you could make this sound good enough.

“Well- we could add some details to the account. Whoever it is, they know. They’ll know some details. Who have you both told?” Gerri asked you both.

You looked at Roman, wondering who he told. You knew he told Gerri, but it made you wonder who else he might’ve told. He had too big of a mouth.

“Oh, fuck off.” Roman responded to your fearful gaze. “I only told Gerri.”

“Are you sure though?” You tried to remind him.  You needed him to remember.

“I don’t have fucking memory loss.” His tone grew even more annoyed with your responses. You sighed in relief.

“I told Jess, but that’s only because she caught us.” You defended yourself.

“You both have not been very discreet about it. Trust us.” Carolina annoyed having to deal with one more scandal along with the shit storm of the Cruises scandal. This scandal only put more gas onto the fire than it was already. They tried to cover it as a few bad people in the past, but now it was the CEO’s son taking advantage of his power.

Not only that, but the age gap made it weirder for people on the outside. People tweeted things about it being predatory and borderline pedophilic, bringing Roman’s past relationships into it. One of the tweets read ‘reminder of how fucking creepy this is: he just entered high school when she was born’, while putting up young photos of Roman next to a picture of an ultrasound. Another one made it seem like he picked you out of a daycare center. Sure, they were funny, but not when thrown at your expense.

“How long have you all known?” You nearly yelled.

“I knew back in Dundee.” Hugo, softer with his tone, worried to offend you.

“It took you that long? I’ve known since Argestest.” Carolina shrugged. You pressed your head into your hands, completely stressed out. “You both were practically dry fucking the entire time.”

“Okay- fuck. So, what the fuck do we say?” You asked them, begging them to switch the topic.

“So, how did it actually start?” Gerri helped you out. “Okay, well after the dinner at the Pierce’s, we were hanging out and Roman kissed me. I reciprocated feelings and then I told him it was a bad idea. So, we weren’t on speaking terms… And then I went out, got drunk then went to Roman’s place at night and kissed him.” You tried to recall without getting too in-depth with everything, just trying to give enough to give them a story.

“Which I rejected, by the way.” Roman tried to chime in. “I put her to bed and got her some whatever she would eat.” He tried to save his reputation as it was being dragged through the mud on social media and all over the traditional media. But he was only preaching to people who didn’t even believe in what the media was saying.

“Yeah- he got me food and nut milk… so we then talked about it and decided to keep it a secret.” You added. Hugo got an idea out of it.

“Okay, so we can keep the small details of that. Add that story about Roman buying your food and whatever the fuck. People will eat that up. Just let’s say you made the move instead. And it started from there. You were there for him and you told him how you felt and then it started. There. Right?” Hugo looked at Carolina for advice. She nodded, trying to think harder if there could be cracks. “Okay- this could work. That could work…” She mumbled.

“She said she’s a block away. Okay, so just stick with the story. Uh- just bring up stupid memories you both have. I don’t know. Make it sound magical or something.” Hugo quickly said, trying to get ready for her appearance to come.

“It’s gonna be okay…” Gerri tried to reassure you before leaving you and Roman alone. Carolina had tagged along with Hugo.

“Are you doing alright?” You asked Roman. You knew this must’ve been just as hard for him as it was for you. He just quietly nodded, biting his bottom lip. “Do you think this is weird?” He wondered. It made him question himself. He was already known by so many people as a weirdo sex freak, but this might’ve proved it to people. “Huh?” Your eyebrows scrunched up, turning your body towards him.

He shrugged, letting out a breath. “Just- this. Whatever the fuck you wanna call this. Do you think it’s weird? Like am I some sex freak pervert?” He was genuinely questioning himself. You shook your head, grabbing his hand in yours. “No- It’s not. I’m literally an adult. They can’t say anything. It’s not like I’m freshly 18.” You tried to reason. Despite the rough patch you both went through; you were still very much in love. You just thought there was a lot of stuff to work on before getting back.

“You did say that last night. That this… was ‘not normal’.” He quoted you. You sighed, pinching your nose bridge. “Fuck- Roman… It isn’t, but it’s not weird. Plus you said fucking worse that night. Reminder.” You tried to defend yourself from Roman. “It’s out there already. Weird or not, this is going public. We have to put our shit aside to make this okay. Okay?” You asked him. “Okay- yeah- sure- fucking whatever…” He mumbled. It wasn’t only you who brought it up. Kendall did too. Along with Shiv. The only one who didn’t make fun of him for it was Connor. But Connor was paying for his clearly young girlfriend to give him a slight bit of attention. He stood up, pacing around. “Be honest. Is it fucking weird? Everyone thinks so. Do you?” He was stressed. He knew this was gonna go one or two ways. Either okay with people will going on his case about the weirdness of this relationship or either terrible and Logan was going to blame him.

“No- I really don’t think so. Listen- you’re a fucking asshole dipshit pervert. But- you don’t like underaged women. You like women of an appropriate age. You may be awful, but you are genuinely the nicest man I’ve ever been with. Ever.” You followed him, looking at him, hoping you convinced him to get out of his own head a little bit. “And despite being so incredibly pissed and annoyed with you, I still love you. Especially after defending me to Ken. I know it wasn’t easy.”

You reminded yourself how kind Roman was. Most people looked over his kindness with all the terribleness he’s done. But you knew he never had bad intentions.

You planted a kiss over his lips and pulled him into a hug. He rested his head on your shoulder, letting his guard down. But you heard a knock, seeing Hugo, Carolina, and a tall brunette woman in her 40s at the very least. “Oh hi, bad time?” She cracked a joke about interrupting an intimate moment with you and Roman. You shook your head no, pulling away from Roman. “No- no. It’s fine.” You tried to ease the awkwardness.

“Good.” She grinned before taking a seat on one of Roman’s chairs.

“Roman. Come on.” Gerri instructed him. “He’s not joining?” You asked, anxiousness kicking in. You did not want to be alone. You were hoping Roman would be there, but it made sense. It would seem like there was pressure. Gerri shook her head no. Roman kissed his hand, blowing you a kiss before leaving, once again hoping to see you smile. You did. You waved bye before they left. You sat down across from the interviewer, hands in your lap and legs crossed in hopes they wouldn’t shake. Anything could be used against you.

“Wow, you guys are very… in love.” She made a comment before pulling out her tape recorder to document every word you said with a notepad to track everything you did that wouldn’t be heard.

“Yeah...” You laughed, trying to keep up the façade. “He’s really great.” She had already hit record. She set the recorder on the table as she had pulled a pen out. “Have you ever done one of these?” She wondered. You shook your no, her writing down that you essentially said no. “Well, it’s easy. I’ll just ask you a few questions and that’s all.” She smiled. It seemed exaggerated. She didn’t care. “I’m pretty sure you read magazine interviews of… oh what was that boy band named… Oh, One direction!” She tried to remind you of your age.

“No, I didn’t. Just other kinds though.” You tried to deviate from your age being a main talking point. “Oh, magazines are probably out of your age range anyways. All about the digital, huh?” She fake laughed.  “I just never read up on interviews honestly. Digital or paper…” You responded. She nodded, hoping to be able to get you to confess something juicy for her article. “Well, It’s easy. I’m just gonna ask you a few things. Uh- should we start?” She smiled. You nodded. “When did you first get hired?” “I think about 5 months ago. My best friend works for Kendall, and she said there was a position open for me.” You simply said.

“And what were your opinions of Roman during that? I mean was there anything? Did he make any suggestive comments or?” She tried to insinuate.

“No, he never really did any of that.” You lied. He constantly did. He had always made flirtatious comments your way, but you always took it as a joke since he did with everyone.

“Okay and how was he as a boss before you got together?” She questioned you.

“I mean at first it was just like any assistant position. But as we got to be around more, we became really good friends. We hung out regularly, we talked a lot. We laughed. We just naturally felt very comfortable with each other.” It was true. Once he started being awful, you both had such a strong dynamic. It was like talking to someone you’ve known for years. You both understood the other so well and just bounced off of each other’s personalities so well.

“When did you graduate college? Why an assistant position?”

“I graduated in the Spring. Uh- I just need to make an entry, don’t I? It’s kind of something opened and I knew there was room to move up.” “Did you think you’d get there faster because of Roman’s status?” She was trying to paint not only Roman, but you in a bad light of you being a gold digger using a rich older man for a higher position. “Well- no. I work really hard and I’ve proven to everyone in the company that all my hard work paid off.” You were slightly offended, but this was exactly what you were afraid would happen once people found out about your relationship with Roman.

“That’s fine. So, how did you two even become a thing? I mean we heard, but is it true?”

“No, it’s kind of fabricated. Roman never made a move on me. We just got done having dinner with the Pierce family and we all had been outside, I pulled Roman off and we just wondered a bit. I actually had a bit of a crush on him at that point. So, when we just sat out there and talked it made me really realize how much I genuinely did like him though. I mean if you got to know him, you’d know how genuine and sweet he truly is. I mean seriously. An absolute sweetheart. About a week after we went to his apartment, he specifically went out to get me vegan snacks and milk because he didn’t have any. But anyways, I just realized I had a major crush on him. So when we went back inside I told him.” You smiled, even though it was fabricated, it made you remember why you loved Roman so much. Everyone saw his flaws as a major point of him. But he had so much more than that.

“I mean, it wasn’t like he didn’t have some kind of feelings for me too. But god if you could only see the way he looked at me.” You tried to emphasize it. But some parts of it felt real. Anytime Roman looked at you, it melted you from the inside. He had this kind of admiration in his eyes every time he looked at you. You never could tell what it was he was thinking. Whether if it was love, lust or some kind of weirdo thought that popped into his head. All that you knew was just by looking at him, you were adored. Everything you did and said was met with adoration.

“What kind of look?” She teased. “It was like he was already in love with me. I mean stuff out of movies y’know. So, I just made a move. I just told him I had some kind of feelings for him. And he rejected it at first, but we just both admitted to it.” You continued to feed into this snowball of lies.

“Did the age difference ever occur to the both of you?” She asked.

“No, not really. It just started becoming a thing til people found out. But I never considered it to be a factor. I mean we’re both adults. If I’m smart enough to own a gun or drink or to even, make major life decisions for myself what’s the issue?” You tried to rebuttal her concerns. “Plus, I didn’t just turn 18.” You reminded. “I’m an adult. Not a teenager.”

“But your birthday just passed, correct?” She asked. You nodded, knowing this would be another point to her. “Yeah- but again. I’m not a teenager.”

“Well, what about the source? They said Roman had constantly made jokes at your expense to force some kind of relationship. Who do you think might’ve said that?” She questioned.

You paused to really think about it. There was no one knew really knew how you and Roman first even got together. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. “I honestly have no idea. I don’t know if they’re mad at the company. Or me. Or Roman. But everything they said was completely fabricated. I mean- we really needed the privacy and for someone to use it against us was awful.” You wished this would just end.

“Well how long until you got hired did you and Roman get into a relationship?”

“Maybe 2 months in. I don’t keep track of that sort of stuff. We just kind of did what feels right.” You shrugged. Your eyes darted to see if anyone was there, but not a single person you knew or were comfortable with was there. Just other staff gawking at you to know some kind of drama. It was sickening. You had no support system with you.

“Well, was the family’s knowledge? Or the companies?”

“Well, we didn’t know where it would lead to, but we did tell Gerri, the company's lawyer immediately. But yeah- it’s been really great until now. The whole article about us really shook us a bit. We hadn’t told any family. Only my best friend and Gerri. It’s still a very fresh relationship.” You reminded her. You and Roman hadn’t been with one another for that long for this all to be broadcast. It was something you both wanted to wait out and see. But now it was under a telescope to evaluate.

“How do you think your family would react to the news of you dating a man 14 years older than you?” You froze. You didn’t expect them to ever be brought up. You couldn’t tell her. That was too much of a personal matter for you. You only had to lie.

“I mean- I don’t think they’d mind. If they saw how happy I was, that’s all that matters. Right? Wouldn’t your parents feel the same?” You questioned her instead.

“Well, I just have two more questions before we leave. You were a college student before this, right? At Fordham?” You nodded. “You just left college. That must’ve been some debt huh? Did money ever become an issue? Did the job help that? Did Roman ever increase your pay after you both started your relationship?” She wondered. “Well, I was doing okay at first. I paid off most of my loans. But that’s why I asked Jess for a job. Sorry, Kendall’s assistant, and luckily there was an opening not long after graduating. But no, I never got a raise.”

“And this might be a bit off-topic, but you, as a young and brilliant woman,” She boosted your ego before dropping the question to you. “What do you think of the scandal going around? With the sexual assault and workers being thrown off shit.” She asked you, watching your face intensely to see if she could twist the narrative.

“I think whoever used my story with Roman to feed into the scandal doesn’t actually care about the women or workers. As a woman who has gone through such harsh things like that, it is disgusting to see them use our pain for their own gain. Waystar is doing everything they can to right the wrongs they have done. It had been a very disgusting group of men who unfortunately worked with the family and used it to their own power. But no one currently, of our knowledge, is continuing the behavior.”

“Wow, okay… A lot of powerful words there.” She was astonished that you’d ever bring up your own sexual assault into the mix.

“Well- again as a woman and a past victim of other men, it is really hurtful to see what people are doing to spin this on people who had nothing to do with it. Like me and Roman. If anything, we should be focusing on the men who did it. And that’s what Waystar is doing. We are staying nights to find evidence of our other staff doing this.” “We’re all done. But thank you so much for your insight, dear.” She said in a cheerful tone. It all felt so disgusting and fake. You needed to leave. You thanked her before rushing out. “I think I have all I need.”

She gathered her things before shaking your hand and finally leaving the room. You finally were able to get a breath of fresh air. That was excruciating. Hugo came in with Roman following behind. “That was fucking awful…” You revealed. “Let’s not jump to conclusions yet. Let’s wait and then jump into that.” Hugo tried to reason. He had faith that you wouldn’t ruin it. No one at Waystar was allowed mistakes. Unless they wanted to lose a position here.

“She asked about the Cruises.” You dropped. Hugo’s faith disappeared. He didn’t know how this would end for them if you didn’t say the right things.

“It’s okay. She’s a fucking feminist.” Roman tried to stand up for you. He thought it’d be enough. “Fuckin’ she watches the notebook and shit.” He thought that was all that was required to be called a feminist.

“Rome-…” You mumbled, covering your face with your hands once again. “Listen, once the article drops that’s when we should tell Logan.” Hugo finally dropped the bomb. You nodded, and Roman grew silent. He was nervous. He didn’t want to ruin the relationship with his father that he worked so hard to build over him and you not being careful enough. “It’s going to be alright. Just… we have to play the waiting game.” Hugo reminded the two of you. The article would drop any minute now. Possibly in an hour or two. You both just needed to wait and see. It seemed like days waiting for the article. You had laid down on the couch, your head resting on a throw pillow, your legs bent to not go over Roman. It finally dropped.

‘Interview with y/n y/l/n: Asking about their relationship, her home life, and the Cruises Scandal.’

“What a catchline?” You sarcastically said. You didn’t bother to read it, but everyone did. The intro started as another smear campaign. ‘Roman Roy, potential CEO of the Waystar company and son of the current CEO, amidst the cruises scandal was caught several times with an employee who was 14 years his senior. The recent graduate, Y/n Y/L/N, had been an assistant for 5 months and had agreed to speak to us.’ The interview read as me being nervous at first, but then dived into it could’ve been other factors. Nonetheless, the interview was good. It made Roman look better than before. “This is good. This is perfect. So, who wants to tell him you two are now under the lens?” Hugo congratulated before dropping the news.

“I can do it.” Gerri said. She was acting CEO; it would be better. It would prove to Logan that she was effective at her job. “I need one both to come with me though.” You huffed, knowing this wouldn’t be that great. You reluctantly got up and followed Gerri. “Good luck you two.” Hugo tried to ease the awkwardness. Gerri knocked on Logan's door before heading inside. “Uh Logan, we have a slight issue.” Gerri eased him in, this was the only way she knew how to do it. “Now, it’s been settled. We had it all cleared, but it’s still a slight issue.” “What the fuck is it now? Who fucked up now? Was it Frank? Or fucking Karl this time?” Logan had been stressed out, trying to find a way to keep his investors kept and trying to find a way to save the company. It was like watching the greatest empire in the world completely break down in modern times. It was humiliating.

“Well- I think it’s a good thing to consider that it’s handled now. And there is more positivity than before. Even with the Cruises case.” Gerri tried to ease Logan’s nerves. Your response to the Cruises struck a few women. Painting yourself publicly as a past victim was hitting strong with women. But men used it as a way to paint you even more evil and gross, a victim who is only with an older man because she was fucked up. But women resonated with you, seeing maybe Kendall wasn’t so genuine. Maybe he had been playing them all along like you said.

“What the fuck is it? Go on.” Logan snapped. “The news broke out against y/n and Roman. Tons of photos came out.” Gerri finally put the information out. Logan was confused about why it would affect the company. He had been with multiple assistants. It never seemed to be an issue. He was currently even cheating on Marcia with one of them. “A source said Roman pushed himself on her.”

“It was Kendall, wasn’t it?” Logan theorized. You thought about it for a second before it finally hit you. Jess wouldn’t possibly betray you like this. But Kendall would definitely betray Roman.  

“Holy fuck! It was Kendall! Holy fucking shit. It was fucking Kendall!” You shouted. Roman’s eyebrows furrowed your way, wondering how you would ever come to that conclusion. “He’s fucking mad at both of us from last night so he called in. Holy fuck.” You couldn’t stop yourself. Logan's annoyance with you grew, wishing you’d stop. “Alright. Enough with that.” Logan ordered. You obliged, holding in your shock. “Gerri, what happened?” He needed more details. Gerri tried to save you from being berated by Logan, but it didn’t work. “All 'cause these two fucking idiots couldn’t keep it in their fucking pants? Fucking Christ! I’m surrounded by fucking perverts!” He slammed his hands on the table.

“Dad… Come on, you can’t group us in with those…” Roman tried to defend himself, his voice soft and careful.

“Oh? I can’t? Well, who has an article about their perversion? Hm? Me? Kendall? No. It’s my pervert son.” Logan reminded him. He just nodded, deciding it wasn’t worth trying to argue anymore. “Well despite all that… we had someone come and interview y/n, and the response has been good. They asked her about the cruises and a lot of women have sympathized with her response.” Gerri hoped it would die down Logan’s anger a bit. But Logan felt betrayed that he wasn’t told sooner. “If you’re trying to push me out of my own business, it isn’t going to work. Why wasn’t I told before? Huh? Are you trying to fuck me? Hm?” Logan tried to intimidate, but Gerri had known Logan for too long to let it get to her. “Why was I not fucking told?” He started shouting, proving his own point.

“Logan, this is a good step of action. Just look at the responses.” Gerri handed off her phone. Logan put on his glasses, pulling the phone slightly farther away as he stared at the screen. His finger slid down the screen as he read one tweet one by one.

“What would’ve been better is if these idiots didn’t run off together constantly like fucking morons.” He rebutted. He couldn’t let any one of this be a win. He was glad that some women were siding against Kendall now but disappointed any of this had to even come up. “Kid- you did fine. But next time, when you’re fucking your own boss, don’t make it so easy to spot.” He spoke to you. You just kept your own mouth shut and nodded before walking off.

Roman tried to apologize before being sent off with his father. “I wanna fucking rest. This day has been a nightmare…” You sighed. But one more disaster was about to happen. You and Roman decided to leave together, deciding it would be best to take care of one another. You entered the lobby to see a familiar face. Not just one. But two.

“Y/n…” Your mother said. You hadn’t heard your name out of her mouth in years.

A deep seat of panic set in. It felt as if a tsunami had run over you. Your lungs felt as though it was burning. Your heart was racing at the lack of air entering your lungs and your body shut down. Your eyes automatically welded up with tears as one of them suddenly fell, knocking you out of the trance you were in. They looked older. You never thought you’d see them again. Let alone hear their voice again. Your body went into complete shock.

“Nuh-uh. No. Fuck this. Nope. Security!” You began to scream. You gripped Roman’s arm and began to run but were stopped as you felt a familiar grasp on your arm. It wasn’t rough, but it felt excruciating. It felt like it was being crushed. “Ow!” You nearly cried as you crumbled. “Let go of me!” You shouted. Roman stepped in between the three of you, picking your body up.

“Hey- don’t. Security. Get these two fucking nut jobs out! Fucking shit! Who the fuck is watching this building?” He shouted out for help. He helped you out as your parents tried to reach you. But Roman dragged your panicked struck body out. You clung on, hyperventilating.

Once you had gone into the car, you laid your head on his lap. His hand graced your hair as if to tell you he was there for you. “Who were they?” He finally asked.

“Ang-My mom and dad…” You managed to whisper.

Notes: It took 4 seperate times to write this. This chapter was cursed

Chapter 19

[loveandthings11]

How Deep My Love Goes, Chapter 13

Read on AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11 Ch 12

Very Tall Somethings

Fic Summary: A Kenrava-focused fix-it alongside canon 💗

Chapter Summary: Hunting and Safe Room, redone. Or, the story of Kendall and Rava's chaotic Christmas week. Kendall tries different tactics to get Logan to agree to save Vaulter while trying to stay apprised of goings-on within the company from afar. Rava is terrified when an active shooter situation hits Waystar with Kendall inside. The incident causes Kendall to struggle with his past demons and to try to reconnect with Shiv. Kendall and Rava exchange Christmas gifts and see how much they mean to each other.

On December twentieth, Kendall lies on the couch in the great room and stares up at the ceiling.

“I-I mean, he didn’t mean that, right?” he asks for the fourth time since his call with Logan yesterday. “That was nothing? He wasn’t really offering it to me when I turned it down. Was he?”

“Mind games…” Rava says absentmindedly as she turns the page of her book in a nearby chair.

“Yes, mind games! Fucking- manipulation, yeah? He’s always done shit like that. What- what do I even do with that?”

She can feel his chaotic energy.

“Have you considered calling HR?” Rava says drily.

“Uh-huh. Okay. They’re all at the fucking corporate retreat in Hungary doing God-knows-what with the company-“ he looks at her eyes running across the page. He’s more stressed by the day not to be able to attend any management meetings right now and it couldn’t be clearer that she doesn’t want to hear about it anymore. “Whatever. I need sunflower seeds.” He gets up and goes to pace in the kitchen as he pours the bag into his mouth.

She tries not to look at him while he’s doing it because she knows what that means. He walks back and forth and looks around.

“You know what? I’m gonna be in the gym,” he says as he walks down the hall toward it.

“Twice in one morning?” Rava asks.

“That was floor stuff, weights. Now it’s cardio. Why, you don’t want me too ripped?” She lets him turn the substitute addictions into a joke. Whatever works.

“No,” she laughs. “Go get ripped. That’s…. great.”

“You laugh now,” he says. “You’re not gonna be ready.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready,” she nods sarcastically. “You should go back to drawing, or music. You used to do more art.”

“Uh- yeah. I did. I should. Just- yeah, I’m going to work out right now.”

He flashes her a smile and walks away. When he comes back in the room she looks over his ever-so-slightly mussed hair. He locks eyes with her.

“Yeah?”

She raises her eyebrows and tilts her head to the side as she chuckles. It doesn’t look like he was going too crazy with the workout, but she does like what she’s seeing. She notices a grey smudge on his hand and nods at it.

"What is that?" she asks. He looks down at it.

"Oh, it's nothing. From the treadmill I guess."

“Okay... well, you are looking good.”

“Feeling good,” he says. But he sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself. “I haven’t heard from Roman in a couple days,” he says.

“Well, there’s probably not much privacy in jail- I’m sorry, the retreat. I always get those mixed up,” she returns.

“Right.” He heads to the shower and, after fifteen minutes, enters the room and starts pacing again. She looks up from her book.

“You’re making me nervous. Come sit down!” He goes to sit down next to her and she watches his foot bounce.

“I’m gonna text him again,” Kendall says with worry in his voice. He types out a message.

Rome. You gotta give me something, man.

He taps his fingers on Rava’s thigh as he looks at the screen. After a couple of minutes, Roman sends a text with a news screenshot and accompanying message.

Preview of an article Karolina sent us. Merry fucking whatever. You’d better not forget this.

Kendall looks at the screenshotted headline and gives a little smile at his screen.

Waystar Royco subsidiary Vaulter lives to fight another day; President Lawrence Yee stays in role under embattled Waystar CEO Logan Roy’s leadership.

“Roman saved Vaulter,” he says out loud in disbelief. “I’ve seen this kind of thing, though. It’s just a temporary extension for now, but it’s a start.”

Rava smiles.

“Good Christmas present,” she replies. “Speaking of which, it’s about time to do the finishing touches on the tree now that you can breathe again. Only a few days til Christmas! You know the kids are going to be ready for holiday stuff.”

“Yeah, for sure.” He pauses a second. “I feel kinda fuckin’… bad that we’re not going to my mom’s. She always wants us to go and Shiv would never do it, but Roman wanted to too. Maybe next year? Or can we- could we go see her next month or something? I just- you know, things were actually good with us at the wedding. It was kind of weird. But, yeah, good.”

“Yeah. Sure, we can go see your mom. Whenever you want.”

Kendall nods and gets up to go to the kids’ rooms to coax them out with promises of hot chocolate and ornaments as Rava looks through the boxes of decorations the staff had been taking out earlier to find the last bits of tree decor. Kendall and Rava have always done this part themselves.

Rava shows Kendall a ceramic ornament they’d bought at a Christmas market in Belgium in one of their first holiday seasons together. The little red frame says Merry Christmas in green and features a sweet picture of 24-year old Kendall and Rava with big smiles on their pink faces pressed together. Kendall’s first Christmas free of his family had been one for the books.

Kendall looks at it and wordlessly returns her look of love. He takes his phone from the glass coffee table and walks the few steps over to her, bending down to her and putting his cheek on hers before taking a quick picture of them smiling once more. Rava nods at the picture and gives him a grin.

“We’ll get a new one made to match,” he says.

“Love that,” she says.

…..

On December twenty-first, Roman calls Kendall.

“Hey, fuckface,” Roman starts. “I’m so hungover I might kill myself.”

Kendall doesn’t know if this is about to be an alcoholic joke or if Roman really just called because he would understand.

“Uh, okay. Well, I’d go throw up and pour yourself an Irish coffee, always worked for me,” he says sardonically to head him off at the pass.

“No. Jesus. I’m not drinking at least until this afternoon.”

“Solid restraint.” Kendall wonders for the millionth time why he’s the only sibling who got the addiction gene. “How was last night? Little bit of corporate trauma bonding?” he asks, stretching out on the couch and enjoying the fact that he spent last night sipping hot chocolate by the Christmas tree while the kids watched Elf.

“You missed a fantastic round of Boar on the Floor. De-licious. Got it all on film, I’m gonna watch it and jerk off later.”

Kendall massages his forehead.

“Jesus. First of all, delete that immediately- or, actually, send it to me and then delete it.”

“I don’t share my porn stash,” Roman says.

“Bro. Seriously. That kind of abuse of power could help our case.”

“Your case. I’m not fucking over Dad. Why do you want it, are you giving it to the biographer? Because Dad will know it’s you.”

Kendall sighs.

“No. I- I mean I got a call, but I didn’t return. Didn’t you get a call?” he asks.

Roman’s quiet before he responds.

“Yyyyeah, of course I did. I’m the most important one.” He changes tone. “But seriously, Dad’s fucking paranoid right now. Someone talked. He doesn’t trust anyone. He’s being… you know. Scary.” He switches back to being cavalier. “He’s gonna find out who it is and it’s gonna be sweet punishment time.”

“Well. It’s not me. But if he wants to know who’s got motivation to talk shit about him, he should look to literally anyone else he’s talked to in the last twenty years.” Roman makes a hurt face and Kendall can practically see it through the phone. “Dude, it’s- it probably won’t even go anywhere. Don’t worry about it. But- yeah. Try to stop people from talking if you can.”

“Why would you want to stop them? You hate Dad,” Roman mumbles.

“I- I don’t- come on, bro. You know that’s not true. It’s tough with us, though.”

“Whatever. This isn’t your ridiculous therapy time where we talk all about how you want to fuck and/or kill our parents and possibly our sister, although you should know she’s mine.”

Kendall rolls his eyes.

“Did he make you play Boar on the Floor?” he asks. The protective older brother in him comes out no matter how annoying Roman is to him.

“Of course not, Dad loves me, Ken. Not something you would understand, but-“

“He never made me play either.” It’s true, but there was always a present threat to both of them at retreats. “Well- good,” Kendall finishes.

“Frank’s here,” Roman says angrily. Kendall feels a momentary pang.

“Yeah? How is he?”

“Being a corporate cock-suck like always. My fucking babysitter.”

“Frank knows what’s doing,” Kendall says. He’s glad Frank is back on at the company, but he misses his guidance. He’s a little envious that Roman is getting the advice he wants. He wonders if he could get Frank on board with his side.

“Ugh. This godfatherly love thing is annoying. Dad’s only bringing him back so he can suck up to the Pierces.”

“The Pierces?” Kendall asks in disbelief.

“Oh, fuck,” Roman laughs. “You didn’t know about that? Man, you are out of the loop.” Kendall squirms at his brother’s glee.

“What do you- Dad’s going after them again? This is his solution. Old tech again.” His mind starts running and he makes a note to text Sandy and Stewy right after this call ends.

“I didn’t tell you that!” Roman exclaims, partially regretting having the shared the information. Kendall can tell how he’s feeling.

“I would’ve found out anyway,” he informs him.

“I guess.”

Kendall decides to change the subject.

“You, uh, see Connor’s video?” he asks.

“Giving away all our secrets to never paying any taxes. Idiot. I mean- love him and his desperate ploys for attention- obviously- but, like, perhaps he shouldn’t be making a joke of our last name?”

“Yeah, thought that was your job.” Kendall sends the rare jab his way.

“Fuck you,” Roman spits back. But he has another thing to discuss. “Um… hey, what do you think of Gerri?” he asks.

“What- Gerri?” Kendall asks. “You mean, like, is she trustworthy? I mean, yeah. She’s all in for Waystar.”

Roman scrunches his face and runs his hand through his hair.

“No, I know, I mean, uh… like as a… human woman? Did she and Dad ever…”

“Fuck?” Kendall chuckles. “I dunno. Maybe. She seems like she’d tell him to go to hell though. Not exactly a warm and fuzzy, fuckin’… take you to bed type.”

“Well, you don’t know. You don’t know her.”

Kendall’s confused by Roman’s sudden defensiveness.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“I don’t- nothing. No reason, I just want to know if she’s trustworthy.”

“Okay.” Did I not just say that? Kendall thinks. “Well, yeah.” His interest is piqued by the questioning. “Why’d you think of that, her and Dad?”

“I don’t know, nothing. She’s just… you know, she was probably hot, once. I should’ve hit on her when I was, like twelve. That would’ve been saucy.” He swirls his finger in the bowl of grapes next to him and doesn’t eat any.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Kendall half-laughs.

“I don’t know. Whatever.” He sounds defensive again and Kendall is more amused by the second.

“Are you trying to fuck Gerri, bro?”

“No, gross, fuck you. She’s, like, efficient. And old. Fuck off. And text me what pills Dad’s supposed to be on.”

“Uh- okay. He- he said I would know?” Kendall’s surprise is evident in his voice. He feels a brief warmth in his chest followed by anxiety that he might never get to experience the closeness he craves with his dad in person again. But he reminds himself that this is a good sign for the future.

“Yeah, don’t get excited. He won’t trust anyone he hires. Thinks they’re all gonna send the list of meds to Michelle Pantsil for the book.”

“Wow. Sure, I’ll- I’ll send you the list.”

“Ugh, just do it, don’t make it a big deal. See you whenever.”

Roman hangs up and Kendall is left with a moment of mixed emotions before refocusing and sending a text to Sandy and Stewy.

Dad’s going after Pierce. Good news. He has no real option if his only plan to get the company even more bloated. Just wants an excuse to chase the old dream. No chance Nan Pierce lets this happen.

Rava pokes her head into the office.

“Are you working?” she asks.

“No- that was Roman, but I think he just called to catch up, actually.” Kendall surprises himself as he realizes that is exactly what just happened.

“Oh?” He’s not the only one who’s surprised.

“Yeah, I think, uh, I guess Dad wanted him to ask me about his pills.” Kendall can’t help but smile a little bit.

“Really?” Rava asks hesitantly. “And that’s- a good thing…?”

“Yeah. That’s a good thing.” He looks at her and gets up to hug her. “Let’s go sit by the tree before the kids go to bed.”

Rava already has had Christmas music playing for the kids, who are inspecting every wrapped present under the beautiful, towering tree.

Kendall notices Sophie subtly peeling back the wrapping paper on the corner of a present addressed to her.

“Uh-uh, Soph. Santa can see that,” he scolds. She looks shocked to have been caught and stares up at him.

“Tell him I didn’t do it! You know the president!”

Rava puts her hand over her face for a moment.

“Santa is more powerful than the president,” Kendall says seriously. “Up, away from the tree. You’ll unwrap it in a few days.”

Iverson looks concerned and Rava goes to smooth his hair.

“Don’t worry,” she reassures him. “Santa knows you’ve both been good this year. That’s what really matters. It’s time for bed now.” The kids groan. “Up, up, up,” Rava continues. “The faster you go to sleep the faster you get to Christmas!”

They stand up and Sophie runs ahead of Iverson, who looks over his shoulder at the festively lighted tree and the many perfectly wrapped boxes underneath it.

Kendall and Rava savor the moment of wonder and innocence and she sits next to him on the couch and leans into him. He kisses her head and they gaze at the glowing tree together.

…..

On December twenty-second, Kendall is at Waystar. He’s here to save Vaulter and he can’t do that without talking to his dad. But he won’t answer the phone and his assistants are denying Kendall at every turn. So here he is. The only way was to come in person. He sits nervously at his desk waiting for any sign that Logan is back on the floor so he can make sure his acquisition isn’t going anywhere. It’s proof he deserves to be here. He glances over to Logan’s office. In there. Heads turn at the sight of him looking out at the floor. He feels self-conscious but strangely proud. They all look away once they've been caught. They've been staring all morning. He bites a nail.

Jess walks into his office. “Hey, Ken?”

He's startled out of his nervous haze and looks up. “Yeah?”

“It’s Rava.”

They exchange the briefest of moments. She hasn’t said that in years. Even though it’s been a few months now, he still gets the rush of remembering she’s calling because she wants to talk to him, not because she’s mad or just to coordinate the kids’ schedules. For a while, it had sent shots of anxiety through him to talk to her- another opportunity to fuck up. But not anymore. He smiles.

“Oh. Yeah, of course put her through.” She turns to go. “Jess- can you just- always put her through.”

She nods with a tiny smile.

“Yeah.”

He picks up the office phone.

“Hey.”

Her voice is honey sweet.

“You didn’t text me back.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, hang on.” He picks up his phone and reads her latest message. He thought nothing could scandalize him but he’s been proven wrong.

“Wow. Uh… are you going to act that out later, or-?”

“Maybe. How’s everything going? What are the guys saying?”

He’s still looking at the text and now he really doesn’t want to admit that he might have a colossal failure on his hands.

“I- I don’t remember, I’m a little distracted.” She laughs.

“Tell me!”

“It, uh, it- it’s not… great. But I’m figuring it out. I’ll have it by tonight. I will.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“I will.”

It’s like he doesn’t know anyone he doesn’t have to convince.

“I know, Ken. You don’t have to prove it.”

He takes a breath.

“Right, yeah. Okay. I have to go but, yeah, I’ll text you back.”

“Okay.” She knows when work’s not going well, nothing is right in his world. She sounds disappointed and he can’t let that happen either.

“Hey- it’s- it’s five hours til I’m home.”

She can hear him trying and she sighs dramatically.

“Suuuure it is. See you at midnight.”

“I’m coming home at 7:00.” Knowing he’s going home to her makes him feel like he can do this.

“You’ll at least come home before you have to go to some other thing tomorrow, right? I mean, you have to change?”

“Okay. Yeah. See you at 5:00 AM,” he deadpans.

“Ken!”

“I’ll see you at 7:00. Seriously. Maybe we’ll go out.”

“For breakfast? When you get home in the morning?”

He shakes his head.

“Yes. For breakfast. Okay. I have to go save this company now.”

“God, I love how important you are.” He rolls his eyes at the sarcasm but he can hear her smiling and he loves it.

“Bye.”

There’s a tentative knock on the glass and Kendall looks up to see Greg nervously standing at his office door. His voice is muffled as he calls through the glass.

“Uh- hey- hey Ken. Can I come in and talk to you?” He smiles awkwardly. “For a just a- a min? A sec of fam time?”

Kendall’s feeling generous.

“Sure, Greg. Come in,” he calls back. Greg swings the door open.

“H-hey, cuz! What’s up on the anti-corruption, you know, the anti-Roy train?” he attempts.

Kendall gives him a small smile.

“Just anti-corruption. And anti-dictator behavior. What’s up, Greg?”

“Uh, well, you know, just… hangin’ with the fam on the private- private planes and livin’ that high life. I mean, not, like, high. Like not drugs. Not that- uh, I didn’t mean-“

Kendall shakes his head.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Um, so, you know the biography of your dad? Michelle Pantsil?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Um, well, I didn’t exactly meet with her, but I did, like, a pre-meet? And-“

Kendall sighs.

“So it was you. And you said some things you can’t take back now?”

“I mean, kind of?” Greg starts. “It wasn’t anything terrible, but maybe things that shouldn’t be in a book? You know? And Tom said Ratfucker Sam is, like, doing research, and apparently he’s not the best guy?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean, Dad’s not gonna love it, man.”

Greg looks panicked.

“Well- well, isn’t there something you can do, or, like-“ he takes in a short breath, “-protect me, maybe? Because I am gonna be able to help you if you win. Or, actually, I can help you win.”

Kendall looks at him.

“Well… I’m not sure what I can do,” Kendall begins.

“I, well, I think you should give me a job if I lose this one?”

Kendall raises his eyebrows.

“No. Dude, come on. If you lose this one? Second choice?”

“I mean, I’m just saying? I have some very, potentially, extremely useful information that I think you could use.”

They look at each other. Kendall thinks about whether he should believe him. He considers the consequences of turning him down and letting the mysterious information stay hidden and the positives of letting it go and staying a small team. He already has one person who’s straddling two sides of the line. But then he considers his dad’s tendency to play as dirty as possible and wonders if he has anything planned to destroy his reputation again. It would be good to have something to stop him this time.

“Okay, Greg. You got it. I think you should leave this side sooner rather than later if you’re going to do it.”

Greg nods.

“Uh, yeah, totally. I- I’m kind of, like, moving up here, though? But also I agree so yeah, yeah.”

The most wishy-washy person alive is on his team, Kendall thinks.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay, well… gotta finish this stuff,” Kendall gestures at the stack of papers on the desk in front of him.

“Right! Yeah! Gotta get to work, for sure.” Greg smiles a nervous smile and backs out of the room. “See ya!”

….

On the afternoon of the same day, a news headline flashes across the PGN screen and Rava’s heart stops for what feels like minutes.

“ACTIVE SHOOTER AT WAYSTAR ROYCO: BUILDING BARRICADED WITH SHOOTER INSIDE”

“What?” Her hands shake as she grabs instantly for her phone and there are tears in her eyes before she can even process it. The most terrifying images and future rip through her mind and she fights as hard as she can to make them stop. The one day Kendall goes back. Was it someone looking for him?? Is he hurt? Hiding? Worse?! She can’t breathe right. The phone rings and rings as she dials his number. He doesn’t answer and she starts hyperventilating as she runs for the car. She calls her driver and manages to choke out “Waystar building, right away, please.”

Her coat half on in the freezing air, she jumps into the waiting SUV and calls him again. When she hears his voice on his voicemail, she starts feeling truly terrified. Why would he not answer his phone in the middle of this?? She doubles over and tries to breathe as heavy rain starts to pound on the car.

Her driver glances back at her but she’s too scared to even try to explain. She dials again, still no answer. Just the voicemail message. She frantically pushes away the thought that that’s how she’ll hear his voice now. She waits to hear the beep.

“Kendall!” She practically yells. “Call me! Call me, please call me and tell me you’re okay. Call me. Ken. Call me. Please.”

The drive seems to take hours. The rain makes the traffic even worse than usual and she curses her lack of recollection of the subway system. She dials Jess and is relieved that she answers on the first ring.

“Hi, Rava,” Jess answers through panting and panic.

“Is Kendall okay?” Rava asks helplessly. "Are you okay?"

“Um-“ Jess sounds like she’s running. “I don’t- I don’t know, I’m being taken to a room somewhere but I don’t see him- but that doesn’t mean anything. Everyone’s running around. I’m sorry!”

“Oh, my god,” she lets out a yelp of true terror. “How is this possible- is anyone- you know?”

“I don’t know, I just heard a shot and some people said maybe more than one? But I haven’t seen anything- um, okay, they’re making everyone hang up so we can hear safety procedures? I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything or if he shows up. When he’s here, I mean.”

Rava covers her mouth. She can hear the blood pounding in her ears.

“Stay safe, Jess! Please call me! I’m coming.”

The beeps to end the call seem louder than normal. Rava panics and dials Roman.

“Oh, good, a connection to what almost passes for civilization,” he answers. She drops her head back for a second and realizes she forgot that Kendall told her he’s been out of the office at management training all week.

“Roman,” Rava starts tearfully. “You don’t know? There’s a shooter at Waystar.”

“Oh, holy fuck, what? Are you fucking with me?”

“No! Kendall’s not answering his phone, Jess is being hidden somewhere and he’s not there. I have to call Shiv.”

“What the f-“ Rava hangs up and dials Shiv. Straight to voicemail like it’s off. She begins to really cry and falls toward the seat. He said he was coming home at 7:00.

The car pulls up and she practically falls out of it trying to get out as fast as she can. Armed guards stand outside and look suspiciously at everyone in sight. Police cars line the street, scattered protesters stare up at the building, news crews are everywhere.

“Excuse me! Is Kendall Roy in there? Is he okay? Where is he?” she calls desperately to the nearest security guard.

“Please stand clear, ma’am. Police orders. This is a crime scene.”

“NO! My husband is in this building and I need to know if he is safe! Kendall Roy.” The guard appears unmoved. “As in Royco?!” She has never talked to anyone like that in her life, but she will do whatever it takes.

“We’ll update everyone when we have more information.”

She practically screams in frustration and calls Kendall again. The rings end early and his live voice sends waves of relief like she couldn’t even imagine over her.

“Hey! Fuck, sorry, I just heard your message and I was going to-“

“Oh, what the fuck,” she sobs into the phone. “Ken! Are you okay? Are you safe? Where are you?”

He sounds like Jess had, being hustled through hallways.

“I’m- yeah, I’m fine, I was making a call on the roof til it started raining and I didn’t even know about this until about a minute ago when these guys came and found me.” He covers the mic. “Excuse me! Where are we going?” he asks the security guards. Rava can hear heavy breathing and yelps and alarms and hurried footsteps in the background.

“Safe room,” Rava hears a guard’s muffled voice through the noise. “With Logan.”

“With- uh- what, no, is there a different-“

“Kendall! Go to the safe room!” Rava yells into the phone. He looks at the phone in surprise and then it really hits him what she must have thought.

“I’m going. Hey, I’m sorry, I’m fine. Really. I mean, it’s possible this was all orchestrated by Dad to get me alone and threaten me.“

Neither of them knows if he’s joking. Rava puts her hand on her face.

“Please. Are you almost to the room? Have they caught the- whoever was-“

“Uh, I don’t know. Not sure, we’re almost there, though.”

“Do not hang up on me,” Rava says sternly, but he can feel where it’s coming from through the phone.

“I won’t. It’s okay. I promise.”

He can’t promise that and she knows it, but hearing it in his voice makes her feel a little bit better. She doesn’t want to be too dramatic.

“Can they just let you out of there? I-“ her breath catches. “-it would be really good to see you right now,” she tries, knowing there’s no way they’re just letting one person out.

“I agree, but they’re not letting anyone out. These guys have the kind of guns Ravenhead loves to talk about.” The door opens in front of him.

“We’re here, head inside, please,” the guard orders.

“Okay, I’m here at the safe room,” he reports to Rava. She’s suddenly beyond exhausted and plops down onto a bench in the wide courtyard in front of the Waystar building.

Kendall steps inside, dreading what Logan’s reaction will be, whether he’ll even let him in. But Logan’s up and striding over as fast as Kendall has ever seen him.

“Kendall!” Rava hears Logan’s voice through the phone. “Are you all right, son? Where were you?”

Kendall can’t believe the embrace he’s getting. He hesitantly hugs his dad back and finds himself wishing against his will that it could last longer.

“Uh- yeah, I’m fine, Dad. I was fine.”

Logan nods and pats his arm before going to sit back down. Kendall takes half a second to remember that he’s still his father’s son, regardless of what’s going on with the company.

“You’re in? You’re okay?” Rava asks nervously.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Thank God. Fuck. I don’t-“ she shakes her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life.” The adrenaline has kept her warm so far but now the cold is getting to her and she zips her coat, gazing up at the building and willing him to come walking out the doors. She longs to feel him against her, to squeeze him and feel his heartbeat.

“I really am sorry, I- I should’ve answered, I was on a call and thought I’d just call you right back and then they came up-“ he begins.

Gerri hangs up her phone and interrupts the moment.

“It was an ATN employee… a suicide,” she tells the room delicately. Kendall glances down and he’s suddenly pulled away from his conversation, from the present moment. He has uncomfortable flashbacks to wondering if anyone would notice. If anyone would care. Logan looks at him for a second and Kendall feels a disturbing connection to know it’s in his head too. The only other person who knew how he used to feel. It’s a wake-up call to see how worried his dad was just now. To hear Rava’s panicked crying at the mere thought. He thinks maybe he’ll never tell her what he used to think about when he was left alone for too long.

“Uh-“ he clears his throat as he and Logan break eye contact and he turns his attention back to the call. “I’m not sure if you heard that… someone- killed himself… at his desk. It’s- it’s him only. No one else.” He wonders what they would have said about him.

“Oh,” she breathes out. “That’s sad… Does that- um, are you coming outside now?” she asks, knowing that’s much too hopeful.

“No, I think we have to be in here a little while longer?” But his head is elsewhere. “Hang on a sec.” He taps one of the guards near the door a bit nervously. “Um. Do you know who it was?”

The guard shakes his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step toward Gerri. “Who was it, do we know?” he asks her.

“A- Mark Johnson?” she says, scrolling through an email from Karolina about the incident. Kendall knew there was a small chance he’d know the name, but he still feels guilty that he doesn’t.

“Oh. Okay.” He wonders if there’s anything that could have been done. The therapists told him there was always something to live for.

“Did you know him?” Rava asks.

“No,” he answers.

But it’s still more upsetting than he’d like to admit. He looks around the room and thinks he should go to talk to Shiv. It’s been a while and he wants to know what’s going on. Maybe she can distract him. Or maybe she can talk. He glances at Gerri and Logan talking to Rhea and wants to make an appearance in that conversation too. If Logan’s going after Pierce, Kendall needs to make it clear that he won’t.

“Uh, I’m going to go make sure everyone else is okay,” he says into the phone. “Yeah? I’ll call you as soon as we get the go-ahead.”

“Oh, okay. I’m right outside for you,” she says. He likes the sound of that. “I’ll see you soon.” She doesn’t like this situation but she knows it could be hours.

“Okay, thanks, Rav. I love you.”

“I love you.”

They hang up and Kendall cautiously makes his way over to the corner where Gerri and Logan and Rhea are talking. He wouldn’t have normally attempted it, but Logan’s concern prompts him to think he might be allowed in.

Gerri’s talking in a low voice about Mark Johnson.

“Apparently he emailed a close friend last week, talking of a ‘culture of bullying.’”

“It’s a newsroom, not a kindergarten,” says Logan as he rolls his eyes. Gerri hesitates.

“Tragically, he also had a history of incidences of – well, not really, mental illness, which he was medicated for through our health plan?”

“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t get out and muddy the waters,” Logan replies darkly.

Kendall feels like someone’s punched him in the stomach and changes his mind about being a part of this. He walks over to Shiv. He wants out of this room and into Rava’s arms.

“Hey,” he starts.

Shiv’s scrolling on her phone and glances up at him, pressing her lips together for a second as she decides on a tone.

“Hey,” she says carefully, with just enough attitude to make it clear that she’s on Dad’s side.

“Can we talk? Like…” he gauges her weirded out reaction. “Actually talk?”

“Um… I guess?” she says as she glances toward Logan.

They move around the corner and she looks at him expectantly.

“So you’re working here now?” he asks.

Her expression turns suspicious.

“Just observing. Why? You know, that’s company information, not for outsiders,” she smiles. He nods and raises his eyebrows.

“Right. But you’re not an outsider?” he challenges.

“Oh! No, I am,” Shiv says with a sarcastic nonchalance.

“So, Rhea,” Logan says smoothly from the other side of the wall. Kendall and Shiv both turn their heads at the sound of his voice moving back into business mode. “Let’s get into it. There’s a price. Let’s cut the bullshit.”

The siblings look at each other warily as they both lean in Logan’s direction to hear better.

“Well, I’m a mere conduit, so feel free to give some numbers, but it’s a hard no from the Pierces.”

“Twenty-one billion.” Shiv looks alarmed and her eyes dart to Kendall. She’s dismayed to see his lack of surprise.

“Why aren’t you more shocked by this?” she asks. “Oh, fuck. You’ve been in contact. This is all an act? Is this why you’re here today?”

“No, Shiv. I’m here because I need to keep up with what’s going on here and I’m not shocked because I’m taking over the company I’ve worked at for seventeen years. I know what Dad wanted to bid.”

“Fuck off, I don’t believe you,” she whispers as they both quiet down to listen to Rhea’s low-key reaction to the staggering number.

“It’s like Shiv said, the cultures just aren’t compatible,” Rhea answers. Shiv gives Kendall a smug look. “It’s an emotional matter for the Pierces. Money is not irrelevant, but how can I put it-?”

Kendall knows Rhea is really here to shut it all down. He makes a split-second decision to call her bluff. Maybe there is no number big enough. Before Shiv or Logan can stop him, he steps back out into the main part of the room.

“-Relevant?” he finishes. Logan and Rhea look up at him and he feels his heart hammering in his chest. “I mean, let’s be honest here. What is it- twenty-one five?”

Shiv runs up behind him.

“Excuse me?” she looks at Logan. His expression is complicated. “Dad! He can’t just say numbers. Can he?” Kendall holds strong and hopes his dad won’t shut him down.

They’re both glued to Logan’s face and Rhea seems reluctantly enthralled by the family drama. Logan’s anger at the move is simmering under the surface, but Kendall can see that he’s grappling. He wants Rhea’s yes more than he wants to shut Kendall down. The moment feels like it lasts a week but finally, Logan nods. Authority approved.

“Bidding against yourself,” Rhea smiles. Kendall’s emboldened.

“Twenty-two,” he says without breaking eye contact with Rhea.

“Jesus, Ken.” Shiv stares at him.

Rhea’s grin continues.

“That doesn’t sound like a real offer.”

“It’s real,” Kendall confirms more confidently. Rhea raises her eyebrows.

“I’ll really have to take this to the Pierces,” she demurs.

“Uh-huh,” Logan says. “Thank you, kids. Rhea, I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you.” His phone rings and he steps away to answer it. “Marcia. Yeah, yeah, fine. Just some ‘mental illness’ fuck…”

Shiv walks over to a couch and calls Tom, leaving Kendall standing with Rhea. He tries to read her face.

“This isn’t what the Pierces want,” he says, as both a statement and a question. Rhea smiles.

“No,” she confirms. He was right. If she’s saying no to twenty-two, there’s no way this is happening.

“Well, frankly, I think you deserve complete transparency. I don’t think my dad should start something he can’t finish. His tenure, as storied as it is, is going to come to an end when I take over. And I agree with you. It’s just not the direction we want to take the company, Sandy and Stewy and I.”

“Mmhmm. Yeah. I understand that. I have a feeling your dad won’t give up until he gets a solid answer from Nan Pierce though.”

“Right,” Kendall says. “Well. I think we can be confident what that answer will be.”

Rhea gives him an enigmatic look. She can communicate with just her eyes and he knows she sees the same future he does.

“It is going to be you, isn’t it?” she says, more as a statement than a question.

He takes a breath.

“Yes. It is.”

She nods subtly. He nods back and she goes to sit down.

Kendall takes a second to collect himself before sliding back down into the current reality of what has happened today. He looks over at Shiv hanging up the phone and thinks he’d really like to try again to connect to her. He cautiously makes his way over to the corner she’s standing in behind the side wall, hidden from the rest of the room. He can’t help himself and lowers his voice.

“Hey. Did Dad promise you… something?”

Shiv tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Nope. No… did he promise you something?” she asks, concern bleeding through her façade of calm.

Kendall decides to keep it vague. The sadness starts creeping up again and sucking away his adrenaline.

“Well. He’s promised me a lot of things.”

“Old news, Ken.”

“I mean, it’s not. Turn on the literal news and they’ve been talking about it.”

“Mmhmm.” Shiv returns to her phone before flitting her eyes back up when she feels that he’s still looking at her. “…What?” she asks.

“Did you know the guy?”

“Who- the guy who- with the gun? No. Why, did you?”

He shakes his head.

“No. Fucking… terrible, though.”

“Yeah,” Shiv shrugs. “Sad,” she adds in an obligatory tone. He’s too quiet. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

“I mean, no one knows him, or- cares? Dad was over there talking about publishing his mental illness, like…” She looks at him expectantly. “You know.” She gives him a blank look. “It’s what they would say, Shiv. About me.”

“Well, they’re speculating with him. But everybody knows for sure how fucked up you are,” she jokes. He doesn’t laugh and his eyes stay on the table next to him.

She gives him an uncertain look. The news is really sinking in now and making him more upset by the minute. The fact that an employee brought a gun in the office, the fact that someone in his company killed himself because of policies Kendall could have improved. The idea that more than one person thought he might have been dead today. The things Logan and Gerri would’ve said if he’d gone through with it years ago. The distance between him and his siblings now. It’s too much. He just wants it all to go away for a minute. She sees his face and doesn’t really know what to do.

“Come here. Give me a hug,” he says quietly.

“Wha-?” she starts. He pulls her in and stays there for longer than she’d expect.

“Ken. Hey. That’s not you.” She rubs his back for a second and pulls back to look at him. “Wait, you’re not, like.. thinking of-? Because, you know, Dad would be pissed. Who would he talk shit about to the lackeys?” Kendall has to restrain himself from asking if she’s kidding. She looks at him like he’s crazy. “It is just a company.” He looks at her like she should know it’s not. “It is. Not really worth…” She gestures at him. “…this, you know.” He shakes his head.

“Not the company. Not really. I just… I don’t know. Someone should have noticed something with this guy. They just- should’ve noticed.”

She gives him a long look.

“You wanna talk some more?”

He looks at her and hates that he feels like he can’t trust her to keep it all to herself. He flashes back to holding her as a baby and wants to cry at the thought that he can’t tell her anything. It’s so quiet for a second that they can hear the rain dripping down the windows outside.

“I- I really can’t.”

….

After what feels like an eternity, Kendall finally trudges out of the Waystar doors into the drizzle. Rava’s head snaps up at the sight of him and slides out of the SUV to run across the courtyard and throw her arms around him in her puffy coat.

“Oh,” she whispers. “You’re here.” He lays his head on her shoulder and just lets the news photographers snap their shots. He’s so relieved and lets his shoulders drop. He hadn’t even realized they’d been practically around his ears. She doesn’t let him go for a whole minute and she’s teary again when they separate just enough to walk over and get in the backseat. She’s a little surprised that he’s teary, too. She opens her arms again when they’re inside and the door is shut, enclosing them in the safe, heated interior with tinted windows. He leans into her and stays in her arms the whole way home. He tells her the whole story and she tries to stay even-keeled while telling him her side. When they’re home, she takes him inside, and even though he has to email Stewy to tell him about Rhea and figure out how he’s going to get Roman to tell him the whole truth about PGM as things develop, he’s just feeling emotionally exhausted. So he lets Rava lead him to their room and slowly pull on some pajamas before she guides him into bed and holds him to her. She takes the remote from the bedside table and starts the fire in the fireplace. While the flame shadows dance on the walls, she nestles into him and slowly kisses his cheek, once, twice, three times. He closes his eyes.

Her lips touch his and he needs them to feel like one. He pulls the comforter over them both and rolls her on top of him for a deep and slow connection that they both need after everything they’ve been through since this morning. He needs comfort, needs to give comfort, and she wants to be taken care of after such a dangerous day. He holds her close and they share each other’s air. They’d rather have less oxygen than be more than an inch apart.

They end the day lying still in the light of the fire, wrapped up in each other with no plan to move. They don’t need words to express themselves and he’s grateful just to have time to exist where there’s nothing to prove. She just wants him to lie there with her. Deep tiredness hits him hard after such a taxing day. Even though he has no idea what time it is and is pretty sure it’s still early evening, he lets himself slip into sleep. His even breathing and the way he cuddles up to her in his sleep make Rava feel like utter mush and she kisses his head before she follows after him and floats into sleep.

….

On December twenty-third, Rava wakes up still on her side facing Kendall as he lies on his back. She glances at his phone screen as he scrolls. An Instagram profile full of professional photos, galas, upscale restaurants and bars… she squints a little in her morning haze and sees the username clearly. MarkJohnson.

She blinks and he realizes she’s awake.

“Hey,” he says, closing the app. He looks haunted.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to close it,” she says. “I thought you didn’t know him.”

“Uh, yeah, I didn’t.” He pauses. “Probably should have. I dunno. I wish I had.”

She runs her fingers over his forearm. She’s still getting used to his newfound enlightenment and desire to be the one to help post-rehab.

“Oh, Ken, you couldn’t have done anything.”

He doesn’t love that attitude but he reminds himself it’s coming from not wanting him to feel guilty. He looks at the comforter.

“He sent an email to his friend saying it was a culture of bullying. My company. I could have done something.”

“You can’t control everyone at the company,” Rava sounds too indifferent and it makes him kind of upset. He doesn’t want to say anything. She glances at him. “I mean, you couldn’t have known, his Instagram looks like a lot of fun,” she prompts. He nods.

“Yeah.” They’re quiet for a moment. “I might start a foundation.”

“For this guy-?”

“Yeah, I mean, you know, for people who are struggling. Like… it doesn’t have to end like that.” He considers how differently he would’ve felt if he’d known that in the future he would be lying next to Rava and on his way to taking over Waystar.

Rava’s a little touched.

“Well, that would be nice,” she affirms as she sits up in bed and reaches for his sweater to pull over her tank top.

“Or- something for addicts, maybe. Maybe both. There’s kind of a lot of crossover. You know? Maybe he had a problem. He had a lot of party pictures? I- I was at some of those galas.”

Rava looks back and realizes his voice was wobbling.

“Hey,” she says, laying back down and giving him a hug. “You don’t know what caused it. It was probably complicated.” She pats his back.

Everyone’s so quick to dismiss and he tries not to spill a tear onto the sweater she’s wearing. But she notices.

“Oh, Ken, what’s-“

“Nothing. It’s just- fucking… sad.” He sniffles and sits up. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

She looks at him with concern.

“You sure?”

He shrugs.

“Uh- yeah. I’m gonna get some breakfast… yeah? You want something?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in in a minute,” she says.

He nods slowly and gets up and walks toward their bathroom. She thinks he looks like he has a hundred pounds on his shoulders. She follows him into the bathroom after a minute and finds him leaning against the wall by the sink with the water running and a silent tear on his face.

“Oh,” she pulls him close and he lets her. She turns the water off.

“Uh…” he wipes the tear from his face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s sweet that you care. It is sad!” She keeps one arm around his waist and touches his face with her free hand.

“It could’ve been- anyone. You know?” He finds himself wishing she did know.

“Sure,” she says.

“Dad’s gonna publish that he was insane because he was on some prescription through the company. You- you know he’d do that to me. He basically already did.”

Logan’s shaming for being a human being never seems to stop, Rava thinks.

“Well,” she says, “that would pale in comparison to the headlines I’d get printed about his Viagra use. And of course his death by daughter-in-law.” Kendall laughs a little through the tears and she squeezes him. “He’s such a…. fuck him,” she says. He nods and tries to get it together.

“It’s okay to fall apart,” she tells him.

He shakes his head.

“Not doing that.” He takes a deep breath and she nods and takes his hand as they walk out to the breakfast table. He sits down and looks at her across the round edge of the breakfast table. “So, tell me what’s going on,” he says. “Something else. It’s- it’s not good for me to think about this anymore.” She gives him a worried look but obliges. She sighs as she forces herself to talk about her situation.

“Well, I called that firm Robert knows to take the case,” she says a little regretfully. Her face is pained. “I- couldn’t handle it on my own I guess.” She smiles a forced smile of embarrassment. “I’m still the attorney of record,” she adds, feeling like she must sound lame, “but they’re mostly handling the day to day now.” She shrugs. “It’s… disappointing. But I’m staying up on it as much as I can. They’re already making more progress with getting documentation.”

He nods and holds her hand. He knows the feeling of failure.

“Well, it’s good for those guys. Tony, yeah? And the other guy?”

“Yeah,” she says reluctantly. “Yes it is.”

“I don’t mean you weren’t good. I mean- you know. If they can solve it. If they can find the guy who disappeared. What’s the resort company called?”

“Um, Triangle Properties.” Kendall thinks for a second about whether he recognizes it. No.

“Uh-huh.”

They look at each other and it sinks in that they have nothing good to talk about at this moment. They pick at breakfast for a few minutes.

“You want to watch tv?” she asks.

“Yeah. That would be good.”

They take their coffees and head into the family room for some low-key zone-out time. She flips on the set and spreads one of the blankets over them both.

“The kids are out?” Kendall asks.

“With Malaya, at the new science museum exhibit. Iverson wanted to go.” Kendall nods. He kind of wishes they were going, too. He could use a distraction and he thinks Rava could, too.

“I’m supposed to have lunch with a couple of the girls today,” Rava says, more like it’s a question than a statement.

“Oh.” Kendall tries not to make his disappointment obvious. “Uh… yeah. Okay."

"I just promised them because it's been so long."

“Right. Sure,” he pushes a smile onto his face. She should have a distraction.

After the show has ended and Rava has gotten ready, she walks over to kiss Kendall, still in his robe in his armchair.

“Don’t go,” he says, only half-serious.

“Ohh, I’ll be home before you know it. But you could have a friend over, too.” She smiles, “or don’t you have any of those?” she teases.

“I have friends,” he insists.

“Outside of business acquaintances?”

“Well, Stewy’s not a business acquaintance.”

“Business partner,” she says as if that distinction is not the point.

He feels regretful for having given up so many of his party friends from the old days, but he’d known he had to do it.

“It was part of rehab to end those other friendships,” he says, trying not to sound annoyed that she would forget that. “You know that.”

“Ken, I’m messing with you. You’re fine.”

“Ivey will build the Lego skyline with me when he gets back.”

“Adult friends, Ken,” she smiles.

“Uh, well, you’re my adult friend,” he says as he purposely looks her up and down.

She smiles a little sadly and glances down at herself.

“Not exactly looking my best these days,” she sighs.

“What? You look good every day.”

She looks at him for half a second and looks away. He can tell her confidence is shaken by the loss of control over the case.

“Come here!” he says lightly.

She walks over and he gently pulls her down to kiss him.

“What are you going to do while I’m out?” she asks him.

“Uh, just work out, and… yeah, I have to call Sandy.”

“Okay. I should probably join you in the gym. Gonna go eat instead,” she’s says in a regretful yet amused voice.

“Hey, stop that. Seriously. I have to work out,” he says seriously. “You know. Every day it has to happen. But that’s my shit.” She nods. “You look hot.” He means it but she laughs it off.

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you when I’m back,” she says without a lot of feeling.

….

On December twenty-fourth, the Waystar Christmas party is in full swing. The cocktails are flowing, the festive attire is sparkling, the band is playing, and Rava is grimacing. Kendall looks over and doesn’t miss the expression.

“I know, last place you want to be right now,” he sighs. “It’s only 4:00. We’ll be out of here in no time. I just have to talk to Dad.”

She nods because she gets it and she sighs because she doesn’t want to get it.

Logan’s across the room and she hopes he’s feeling as un-grinch-like as possible. She watches Kendall eyeing him cautiously.

“This is the last chance I have to save Vaulter,” he says nervously. “Next time I see him- I don’t even know. A month? Argestes? It’ll be too late.”

“Oh yeah,” Rava says. “I forgot about that trip.” She always liked it out there, minus all the networking. “Well, go do it. You can get this taken care of and we can go home?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. “You know, it’s kind of fucked up that there’s this party when Mark Johnson…” his eyes fall to the floor for a moment. She squeezes his hand.

“I know. But you’re here to fix the Vaulter situation for all those people. They need you,” she reminds him.

He nods and takes a deep breath and summons the strength to walk to where Logan is standing with Colin not far behind.

She watches from across the room as Kendall approaches his dad. He starts off nice, and she can see his harder business persona come out as she’s sure they’re getting into the nitty-gritty. After a surprisingly brief conversation, Kendall bounds back over to Rava.

“It’s done. I convinced him. He’s keeping it.”

“Just like that?”

“This- this is a new level, I think. I’m playing him, Rav. We’re playing chess. Like equals. He fucking listened to me.”

“He’s listened to you plenty of times before!”

“Yeah- yeah, but this was another level. This was real shit, like- there was respect there. I showed him I did the work, I had the full answer for everything he asked. He said Roman agreed with me.”

Rava pats his arm.

“Honestly, that’s great, Ken.”

He’s basking in the glory of being heard as Rava glances around at the attendees. Her eyes stop when she sees a tall, thin blonde with fake cleavage spilling out of her tight dress walking by and smiling at Kendall.

“Hi, Kendall,” she says in a breathy voice as she passes them.

Rava turns her head and swings it back around to stare at him. He’s looking at his watch.

“Um, who was that?” she asks, eyes a little wider than necessary. He shrugs.

“Nobody, just, uh, some girl I went on a date with last year.” She keeps staring at him. “It was nothing.”

Rava looks down at her corporate-appropriate dress and takes in a bit of a sharp breath.

“Oh. You… went out with her?”

“One time.”

“Oh. Okay.” She raises her eyebrows and wishes for a mirror. He saw her, he asked her out.

“What?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing, you know, just that she can’t be more than twenty-five.”

He shakes his head and tries to brush it off.

“I don’t know how old she is. It doesn’t matter, it was nothing.”

She reaches behind her head to fix her hair.

“Mmhmm. Okay.”

He half-smiles at her. She can’t seriously be worried about this.

“Nothing even happened.”

She grimaces at the idea of anything happening, of him comparing her to that girl. Nothing happened. She wonders if they kissed at the end of the date. The idea makes her sick.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, I promise.”

She tries to seem casual, like she’s making a joke.

“But you wanted it to, though.”

He looks right at her.

“Actually, I didn’t. She’s really not my type.”

“Right, yes, I’m sure you hate perfect, beautiful, young-”

He smiles.

“Stop. You are perfect, beautiful, and young.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Oh, right,” she says, walking ahead of him a step. He reaches for her hand and grabs it.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, the dermatologist?”

He shakes his head and laughs.

“Don’t say that.”

She looks back at him.

“Stop smiling!” she insists.

“I’m smiling because this is ridiculous.”

“Oh, you were so miserable without me,” she says in a mocking tone.

He looks at her seriously.

“I was.”

She shifts uncomfortably and he slips his arms around her waist, looking into her eyes. She squirms a little and avoids looking at him.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” She starts moving away and he keeps her there.

“Hey. I mean it, I was.”

She wrinkles her nose.

“Please, I didn’t even look like that when I was twenty-two.”

“I don’t want you to look like that.”

“You asked her out.”

He doesn’t know whether the truth is better or worse.

“Actually-“ He drops his head down and looks up at her. He tells himself not to mention that Rava had a whole pseudo-relationship and tries not to smirk or gloat.  “She asked me out.”

She sucks in one cheek.

“Oh, good. A slutty model,” she says semi-seriously.

“I wouldn’t know. One date, Rav.” He gazes at her and she avoids eye contact. “I-I wished she was you. I fucking wished everyone I talked to was you.”

She sighs and finally looks at him.

“Really?”

“Of course, really. Fuck, don’t get all… fake at the doctor.” He shakes his head. “You’re perfect. Come here.” He pulls her in and she leans against him. She’s briefly amused that he’s blissfully unaware of her expertly-done skin treatments.

“Does she know you’re married again now?” she asks in that fake-joking voice again as she squeezes him to her.

“If she reads Page Six.” He still can’t believe she would care about this. “Can we go home now?”

She looks up at him with a small smile and imitates the girl’s voice sarcastically.

“Yes, Kendall.”

He shakes his head again.

“Stop. Let’s go.” He puts his arm around her and they walk out.

….

On December twenty-fifth, Rava hands Kendall a wrapped present after the kids have gone to take post-unwrapping naps. He takes a look at the gift tag.

I thought about sneakers, but this seemed somehow even better. Something for the man who has everything.

The phrase used to be a dark joke to him. He'd thought he had nothing for the longest time and it had always been impossible to explain to anyone but her. He opens the wrapping paper and beholds a well-loved journal.

“It’s my diary,” she smiles. “From the first years we first started dating. I thought you’d like to read what I- well, how I saw you, versus how you saw yourself.”

“I didn’t even know you kept this!” he says with wonder. He opens it up and starts flipping through it, catching snippets on different pages.

If he could take a month away from the Roys, he’d start to see how brilliant he actually is.

I wish I knew how many colors are in Ken’s eyes. I tried to count them once but he blinked. I could honestly look into those eyes forever.

I didn’t know it was even possible to think about someone so much. All I want to do is lie in bed with him every minute. It’s like I physically need him. I don’t know how I’m going to focus on classes when I have to go back to law school next week. I can’t be away from him anymore!

He’s speechless when he looks up at her again. She’s blushing but she’s happy it’s having the intended effect. He glances back down and flips the page one more time.

If Kendall doesn’t propose to me this year I might actually die!!

He chuckles and points to that line, holding it up for her to see.

“Wow,” he laughs. “Good thing I did.”

“Yeah,” she smiles and they gaze at each other. “It is a good thing.”

“This- this is amazing,” he says. “I don’t even- wow.” He looks at her again. “Can’t believe this is real.” He looks down at the book and smiles again. “So, uh, I guess you’re kind of into me.”

“Mmm,” she says as she kisses him. “I guess so.”

He pauses.

“Did you really count the colors in my eyes?”

She smiles.

“Four,” she whispers in his ear.

“Four? No, three.”

“You’re missing the darker green,” she says.

It’s his turn to feel a little hot in his face.

“Okay. So, you’re actually obsessed with me,” he smiles.

“And look how happy you are about it!” she replies.

“You just took out all the bad stuff,” he insists.

She shrugs. “No missing pages!” He flips through the whole thing again. She’s right.

“Okay, I’m absolutely reading every word of this today. But first, I’ll get your gift.”

He pulls out a wrapped gift that’s clearly a frame.

“I don’t know if this is- yeah, this is probably not, you know, great, but- you said you missed when I did art, so…”

She pulls the paper off of a close-up sketch of her smiling in bed, sheets wrapped below her bare shoulders and slightly messy hair framing her face. Sunlight streams through the window behind her.

“How I see you,” he says. “Versus how you see yourself,” he adds.

“I can’t believe you drew this,” she whispers. “It’s so beautiful, I love it. When- when did you even have time to do this?”

He shrugs.

“You know. I made it work. Got the idea at the wedding, the way you woke up,” he smiles. “I just think you should know…” they look at each other. “You know.” She nods. “Come here,” he says quietly.

She cuddles up to him and they wrap their arms around each other. Today, they do have everything.

Chapter 14 💗

[ratquesadilla]

waste my time (chapter 2)

pairing: stewy hosseini x oc

word count: 1075

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43040553/chapters/116164429

a one night stand with endless consequences.

chapter 1 - series masterlist - full masterlist

----

“what the fucking fuck are you doing here.” i whisper shouted, hitting stewy in the arm with my phone. it was bad enough that i’d slept with kendalls roommate but having to sit through breakfast with him less than 12 hours after? it was like i was being tortured or something. 

“i’m having brunch with my roommate.” he said very matter of fact-ly, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“i’m having brunch with my brother!” i exclaimed, adding an emphasis on the ‘brother’ part. 

“so i slept with kendalls baby sister huh.” he scoffed, muttering almost like he was thinking out loud.

“how are you so casual about this?” i questioned, opening my mouth to continue rambling before i was cut off by his face colliding with mine. his hands snaking down to my lower back and pulling me closer. “why would you do that you sex addict?” i said as i felt a blush creeping up my neck, pulling away but not removing his hands from my body.

“had a feeling if i didn’t shut you up you were gonna go on forever.”

“oh my god you’re such a dick.” i exclaimed before running back towards our table at the front of the restaurant. 

stewy was messy, he was willing to kiss me in an environment where my brother could catch us at any time. while i was careful, meticulously planning my every move, he was spontaneous. no doubt because of the lack of responsibility he’d harbored since his teens, that was less of an assumption and more of a fact i’d become eerily familiar with after watching roman grow up. 

kendall was on his phone mindlessly scrolling through waystar news, a painful habit he’d picked up after our father accosted him for not being up to date on the worlds comings and goings, only glancing up for a second to acknowledge my presence.

“did you run into stewy or something?” he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity hidden underneath his mentally checked out demeanor. “he went to the bathroom like 2 minutes after you and you were in there for a while.”

“i’m on my period thank you very much.” i said, taking a large gulp of my water in an attempt to bring down the redness in my face. 

“wow tmi man, i don’t need to know about what goes on in your vagina.”

“trying to figure out if were synced, you’re radiating major bitch energy right now.”

“whatever” he muttered, pushing a cup of coffee towards me. “i already ordered your usual don’t worry about it.”

under kendall’s general grumpiness lay a caring man. to the untrained eye it was virtually impossible to spot but under layers and layers of self hatred, general negativity, and entitlement kendall roy was a loving man. while his love was usually expressed through gifts, and small things like remembering a breakfast order, his love was genuine and infectious. 

all of my siblings had one thing in common, our father. some of us raised differently than others but we were still connected through logan fucking roy. to be fair, all of us were barely raised by him; connor spent his formative years with his mother and the rest of us spent our time with ours until the divorce. in america our father was barely present, choosing to hand us off to au pairs instead of raising us himself. 

“so,” my brothers roommate said, returning to the table and pulling me from my thoughts. “gonna introduce me to this stranger ken?”

“youre impatient this morning.” kendall scoffed, finally prying his attention away from his phone. “this is my baby sister, adynn.”

“addy is fine, no one actually calls me adynn.” i said, reaching over the table to shake his hand. “and i’m only his baby sister because he was born 20 minutes before me.”

“stewy.” he replied as he took my hand in his, letting his fingertips brush against my wrist. almost as if he was trying to feel my pulse spiking. “it’s very nice to meet you, i’ve heard only good things.”

——

my apartment was my safe haven, my bubble seperating me from the outside world, and for the second time today that sense of safety was shattered by stewy fucking hosseini. 

it began with a follow request, on the instagram account i had tried very hard to make extremely difficult to fine, and when i reluctantly accepted a text followed. not a “hey” or a “i had fun at brunch”, but a very short and douchy “u up?”.

“ur so gross” i texted back, hoping he would get the emphasis on ‘gross’ through the screen. a notification alerting me of another message flashed on my screen, right before i heard a light knock coming from the front door. i ran to open it and was unpleasantly greeted by the towering billionaire leaning against the doorframe. “how long have you been outside my apartment?” i asked, walking away from the entrance and slinking into the kitchen. silently inviting him into my home. 

“since i sent that follow request babe” he said as he slowly inched inside, removing his shoes and shedding his jacket as soon as he noticed the slippers on my feet. 

“was this entire plan riding on the chance that i would accept it?” i giggled as i placed a kettle on the stove. “tea?”

“more of a coffee guy myself” he replied, “but since you’re offering i’ll take some.”

“so.” i said, placing tea bags into mugs and pouring water into them. “what brings you here, finance guys rarely come over to this side of campus. something about it being too sunny for all you cold blooded creatures over here?” i slid onto the couch next to him, almost mimicking the positions we met in the night before, and pulled my legs to my chest. 

“ouch, thats a low blow.” he clutched his chest, as if he’d just been stabbed through the heart. “i had a very strong urge to come see you, if you must know.” he slid closer to me, leaving his mug untouched on the table. snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me onto his lap. “has anyone ever told you you have beautiful eyes.” he said as he began inching his arms under my sweater.

“you aren’t too bad yourself hosseini,” i said, pulling my face to his before the almost-compliment could get to his head.

[jeniffercheck]

i think i believe in getting saved (it’ll hit all at once)

shivlina: canon divergent, shivlina origins pre-season 1; my take on how they could’ve gotten together. CWs below the cut.

words: 14k

read here or on ao3

cw: no scenes of actual domestic violence but there are a few detailed descriptions, self harm is mostly referenced/implied with no graphic descriptions, mental health issues is for panic attacks/anxiety. there's a lot of humor but this fic gets decently dark at some points so please be safe

-

Karolina meets Shiv Roy on a Monday.

They’re closing a deal and Logan let them know late into Sunday evening that they were expected at the office bright and early. PR would need to draft the terms immediately in ways that the media could understand, and in ways that made it look like Waystar wasn’t losing prestige or power, which Karolina couldn’t say she isn’t concerned about with every new deal they seem to take on.

This normally wouldn’t be an issue; she generally thinks she’s excited to go to work and draft press releases for these otherworldly things, type out numbers she can’t even conceive of and be one of the people who gets to go out into the world and speak it into existence, but she’d barely had time to sleep over the weekend do a different, more pressing PR crisis at Waystar. A kid died in one of the theme parks. It wasn’t their fault. The autopsy disclosed an unknown heart problem that had been triggered during a rollercoaster ride. There’s no evidence as to whether or not the ride could’ve actually been the cause, rather than the incident just occurring while he happened to be on it, but that’s not the part that Karolina is fixated on.

The autopsy didn’t include that a successful combination of CPR and defibrillation have been shown to lower the risk of death from a cardiac event related to this disease, if treated in time.

She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the after-action report she received.

Response Time: 15 minutes.

She kept looking at the paper, wondering if maybe a Xerox machine had hidden a dot somewhere between the one and the five, or if maybe they meant to put one but then thought it was five and whichever number they erased just wasn’t erased enough. She knows she had nothing to do with it, that she has no control over the on-site medical services in a theme park three states away from her with an entire management team of their own, but it’s hard, when you’re the one making the excuses. When it’s your face they see as they’re being made.

She also knows that the report will disappear. That when she goes to lunch later, she’ll come back and they’ll just be gone, and when she mentions it again, they’ll say that page didn’t exist and that she must be mistaken. She wonders briefly if any of this is even worth it, but she doesn’t have time to contemplate because her coffee order is being announced by the pick-up bar.

She picks up the coffee, and then a voice rings out.

“I think that’s mine.”

She looks up to find a redhead, looking unamused.

“Um, no…” Karolina says, trying to get a better read on the cup’s marking, “This was my order.”

She worries that the woman is going to start a fight with her in the middle of the coffee shop, which she absolutely does not have time for, and she checks her watch, thinking about just abandoning the coffee and heading off to the office. As she does so, the woman speaks up again.

“Wait—do I know you?”

Karolina looks up again, inspecting the woman closer, and then she realizes. Shiv Roy.

“I work for Waystar,” Karolina says. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

Karolina thinks it must be weird, knowing there’s an entire ecosystem of people who know everything about your existence, yet you know nothing of theirs.

“Are you sure?” Shiv asks. “What’s your name?”

“Karolina,” Karolina says. “I’m in the PR department.”

Shiv’s eyes widen, and an amused smirk forms across her face.

“I know you,” she says. “Your press releases were all the rage when Kendall went on his last bender.”

She’s unsure of how she should respond to one Roy sibling being amused by another’s devastatingly public mental breakdown, but she figures she should just please whichever Roy is in front of her at any given moment, and right now, that means Shiv.

“Well, I wasn’t aware I had an audience,” she says. “I’m glad he’s doing better.”

“Right,” Shiv says. “We all are.”

Karolina can’t tell whether she’s being sarcastic or genuine, but she decides she doesn’t want to know, and anyway, she needs to get into the office to get all of this theme park shit squared away before the new deal briefing. She was left with the coffee in the grabbing war, but she offers it to Shiv instead, who immediately waves her off.

“No, take it,” Shiv says. “It’ll piss my dad off if I’m late.”

She’s smirking again and the flash of unbridled rebellion in her eyes is unmissable. It’s the kind of pleasure that can only be found in a child doing something specifically to mess with their parents.

“You’re coming into the office?” Karolina asks, surprised. She can already feel her sleep schedule go to ruin at the thought of the pages and pages of internal memos and presentations she’ll have to draft about what it means for another Roy to be entering the ranks of the C-Suite.

“Just election stuff,” Shiv says, as if she were reading Karolina’s mind. “Dad doesn’t like my candidate so, he dragged me all the way out here just to let me know.”

“Kind of him,” Karolina says, feigning a smile. If she sees Shiv squint at her inquisitively, she doesn’t let it show, and she holds up the coffee in front of her. “Um, thanks, and good luck, with the uh, pissing him off.”

“See you around?” Shiv says, her words trailing off like it’s some sort of proposal that Karolina better say yes to. She finds that she wants to, but Karolina will be the first to admit she finds no pleasure in pleasing.

“Bye, Shiv,” she says, not looking back to see the expression on Shiv’s face.

—

The deal goes through, and Logan is elated. The whole room is, really, but Karolina’s been mulling over this theme park case and can’t find it in her to be happy over something as trivial as money when they’ve got a negligent death on their hands. Karolina tries to leave the room as fast as possible, to go deal with this in the peace and quiet of her own office, but Logan stops her before she can escape.

“How’s that kid?” he asks her.

She grips her laptop tight against her chest, and in the heat of the moment, she can’t stop from snapping. Albeit calmly.

“You mean the dead one?” she asks, her voice tight.

She stares at Logan, and she knows her own expression is unreadable. Everyone in the room seems to hold their breath, but she just quirks an eyebrow.

“The situation,” Logan clarifies.

“It’s under control,” Karolina confirms, which really, is all she had to say in the first place.

“Very well,” he says, gesturing for her to leave.

She ignores Shiv’s impressed gaze on her way out.

—

The parents want to sue.

Logan agrees to settle, not uncommon for theme park accidents regardless of who is the faulty party, as long as the problem can be swept away as quickly as possible and kept out of public court records. She feels sick thinking about how she’d explained the situation.

Due to the waivers upon entry into the park and the necessary warning signage for each ride, we are under no liability when a park attendee suffers a medical incident due to their own personal negligence. In this particular case, there is still cause for concern in how we administered first aid, but if we settle with the parents now, we’ll still be able to control the narrative in the media.

Then, she empties her lunch into the toilet as she recounts the lawyers telling the parents Logan’s offer.

Give them one-seven and lifetime passes.

She pushes the shame back somewhere unreachable, and when she exits the stall, one Shiv Roy is reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.

“Didn’t think that was in anymore,” Shiv says, absentmindedly.

Karolina rolls her eyes as she walks to the sink, wondering why Shiv Roy suddenly thinks they’re sparring partners.

“I ate something bad for lunch,” Karolina says, feeling annoyed that she’s even trying to explain herself at all, and she rinses out her mouth and washes her hands, hoping it’ll cleanse away even a little bit of the guilt that’s still lingering.

She can feel Shiv’s eyes on her as she dries her hands and lifts her purse onto the counter, digging through it. She successfully ignores the unwanted attention until there’s a hand in front of her, holding out a piece of gum in a sleek, silver wrapper. She stares at it for a second, and then grabs it.

“Thanks,” she says, flicking her eyes to Shiv’s through the mirror.

Shiv shrugs, closing her own bag and propping it back on her shoulder.

“I liked the way you talked back to my dad,” she says, then leaves the bathroom.

Karolina wonders if a Roy liking anything about her is a good thing.

—

Somehow, Shiv gets her number.

Her immediate thought is no, because she thinks getting involved in any capacity with the political strategist-daughter of her temperamental boss is the last thing she should consider, especially during an election year, but Shiv says it’s strictly business and that she could use some advice and just a quick round of drinks?

So, what’s the harm? Worst case, Shiv does have ulterior motives and Karolina just has to tread lightly, best case, she genuinely wants advice and Karolina gets to restore some of the karmic balance in her morally disturbed life.

That’s how she finds herself sitting at a high top in a dingy dive bar, watching a news anchor read her press release about the theme park death on national television. Her words feel so sterile being read out to her, and she tries to gauge the reactions of the other patrons of the bar, but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s paying attention. She suddenly wonders if she cared too much, but then she remembers the way the mother had cried during the legal proceedings, and she doesn’t think she could have ever cared enough.

By the time Shiv shows up, Karolina’s on edge.

“Shiv, I’m not really authorized to give out advice that might conflict with the interests of Waystar,” she warns.

“The conflicts are all economic,” Shiv waves off. “Tax breaks and antitrust. Nothing that’ll take down the company, I promise.”

She’s not sure how much a promise is worth coming from Shiv, but she decides to stay cordial.

“Sure,” Karolina says. She’s also not sure how much the economy would warrant such a lengthy visit from his youngest child, but she lets it slide. ‘So, what do you need help with?”

“Narrative,” Shiv says. “How to spin something ugly, in your favor.”

Karolina’s strength.

“How ugly?” she asks.

“Pretty ugly.”

A number of options run through Karolina’s mind.

Denial. Payouts. Intimidation. Convoluted paper trails. Victim-blaming.

“Is this something you can stop from getting out?” she asks instead.

Shiv shakes her head, and Karolina sighs.

“For a political candidate, you obviously need to be in control. Ten steps ahead,” she says. “Simply ignoring allegations creates a sense of distrust but addressing them head-on after they’ve come out or minimizing them feels dishonest, especially if this is going to be a big story.”

“So…what?” Shiv asks, “You admit to it?”

“Whatever you say, it needs to be believable, and you need to say it first. It doesn’t have to be an admission of guilt,” Karolina says. “It can also be an admission of rehabilitation.”

Shiv writes something down in a small notebook she’d brought, and Karolina finds that she’s surprised by Shiv's reason for this meeting actually being true. Shiv looks up as she writes, and Karolina takes it as a sign to continue.

“Say it’s a DUI charge,” Karolina says. “You emphasize that the client has worked hard to move on from a troubled time in their past and they’ve been consistently making great strides in doing so. They attend regular AA meetings, they’ve been sober for ten years, they have a happy and wonderful family. Show that they’re human.”

“What if they’re a truly terrible human?” Shiv asks.

Karolina twists her beer bottle in her hand. It’s a fragile game, helping terrible people escape the consequences of everyday life. She just wishes she weren’t so good at it.

“Donations are a decent safety net,” Karolina says. “People like to see a rich man put his money where his mouth is.”

Shiv writes more on the notepad and Karolina takes a sip of her beer.

“I think I’ve seen one or two of these things on Kendall’s Instagram story before,” Shiv says as she looks up again.

“You have,” Karolina replies, unamused. She chews on her lip, starting to feel uneasy. “I assume it’s worse than a DUI?”

“Just a little,” Shiv says. “Any advice for something more…unconventional?”

Karolina’s been trying to avoid setting Shiv up for the truly amoral routes, but there are only a few ways that situations like this can go. Still, she opts for one of the easier-to-stomach strategies in her arsenal.

“I’d go with sex addict,” Karolina says. “It’s still stigmatized, but there’s some sympathy to be had if you’re labeling the problem as something that can be worked on. A lot of people won’t buy it but…some will.”

“That’s…” Shiv trails off.

“Horrible,” Karolina finishes for her.

“I was going to say smart,” Shiv says, “but horrible works too.”

Karolina feels sick again. She wonders if she looks it, because Shiv closes her notebook and leans back in her seat, trading her pen for a swig of beer.

“And what if you get paid the same amount, regardless of how this scandal affects the outcome of the election?”

Karolina raises her eyebrows and takes a deep breath as she thinks.

“Then…you suggest your client’s donation is very sizable, and you leave some room for legal action in their public statement, if needed,” Karolina says. “Like, that they’d be willing to speak with those they’ve affected to apologize, or something to that nature. The victim’s lawyers will come crawling.”

“And I can still sleep easy at night,” Shiv says.

Karolina averts her eyes.

“Sometimes,” she says, drinking her beer.

“Well,” Shiv says, “maybe that’s a pipe dream in this line of work.”

Karolina used to think it wasn’t, but the decisions add up. The choices add up.

“Is this your first?” she asks.

“Scandal?”

Karolina nods.

“No,” Shiv says, shaking her head. “My first as the lead, though.”

Karolina remembers her first. It was at some hedge fund straight out of college and the Chief Financial Officer was found embezzling. She wishes things were still that simple.

“You’ll get used to it,” Karolina says, seeing ATN has moved on from discussing the theme park. “Enough people won’t give a fuck.”

Shiv follows her eyes, frowning slightly at the TV. She turns back to Karolina, sympathetic eyes now boring into her. Shiv leans forward.

“I’m sorry about my dad being dismissive over that kid,” she says. “Obviously you know what he’s like, but…yeah. On behalf of the Roys. For whatever it’s worth.”

Karolina shifts in her seat. She’s not sure why this specific assignment is hitting so hard. Maybe it’s as simple as the fact that a kid died, but she’s also been running ragged the past few months with acquisition after acquisition and deal after deal. It’s possible she just needs a damn vacation.

“Thanks, Shiv,” she says. “I appreciate it, really.”

When she’s in bed that night, unable to close her eyes, she finds it doesn’t really make a difference.

—

She doesn’t see Shiv for another five weeks, until the annual Waystar Gala.

It’s usually a nice night. The Waystar team focuses on making sure the shareholders and board members feel like their money is worth something more than just brainwashing Middle America with right-wing news and shiny new cruises and theme parks. It should be a night where the executives are distracted and Karolina can slip away, not have to clean up twenty-billion messes that shouldn’t even exist, but she could never be so lucky.

The parents of the kid didn’t accept the terms of the settlement. Somehow, the red tape got muddled and the after-action report was discovered, so they’re suing for medical negligence. It’s impossible to spin now. Waystar killed a kid.

So, instead of drinking champagne and leaning against a wall somewhere with Gerri playing daughter or wife?, she’s in Logan’s suite-turned-war room, staring him down as he yells at her. He’s spouting something about, how the fuck did you miss this and this is why need killers in the room instead of soft crybabies who are worried about doing the right thing and back in my day if you died in a theme park that would just be the end of it and you’d just be fucking dead, which, Karolina doesn’t think is true, but she’s not going to argue that one with him right now. His rant goes on for a while, and she’s not brand new to being the target of his rage, but it’s definitely the most intense treatment she’s ever received, and it doesn’t help that it’s about a faulty death of a child and she’s being berated since it’s somehow her fault they got caught.

“Well?” Logan shouts when he’s finished, a cue that it’s her turn to get a word in.

“I have a meeting with legal scheduled,” Karolina says calmly. “We’re going to discuss what our exact options are, and we’ll work from there. If we have to hang some brass at the park, we will, but there’s a chance we can still sway the parents into settling if we offer enough.”

“Sure, drain my fucking pockets for a bunch of deadbeats,” Logan grumbles. “That’s all?”

“Unless you need something else?” she asks, which, she really hopes he doesn’t because she doesn’t think she can stand to be in this room longer than it takes to end the conversation. He watches her carefully, but she stands her ground, her hands gripped tight around her phone but her expression neutral.

“Fuck off,” he finally says.

She wastes no time leaving the room. Gerri knows better than to try and follow her, but Shiv tries to stop her on her way out of the suite to which she can only offer a raised hand a shaking head. She just needs to get outside. She finds her way to a staircase labeled with roof access, figuring a few floors up is quicker than fourteen floors down, and she briefly thinks about how this definitely has to be a disaster waiting to happen for the hotel, because of course, the only thing Karolina knows how to think about is managing the crises of wealthy people who have no regards for anything at all.

By the time she makes it up (the door was unlocked, by the way) she’s not entirely sure whether she’s totally out of breath due to the two flights of stairs or because she’s on the verge of needing a gallon of sedatives her in system, but her educated guess is that it’s definitely the sedatives and she should at least try to get her head on straight before she ruins her whole career because she couldn’t handle five minutes of reprimanding.

She feels the familiar swell of anxiety in her chest, and although it makes her feel better to know she’s not suddenly become a ‘soft crybaby,’ it doesn’t make her feel better to know an issue she thought was behind her is back, because really, the timing could not be worse. She frantically digs through her purse, hoping for some odd reason there’s a pill left over, but there’s nothing, her old emergency stash gone from years of dormancy. Her back is turned to the door she came out of, but she can hear the door swing open and a pair of heels slick toward her.

If she could just find a cigarette.

“How do you do that?” Shiv’s voice rings out, though it sounds distant and muffled, and she finally finds a smoke and a lighter.

She turns around, not quite able to figure out what Shiv is referencing. She’s using everything in her to just stay calm, hoping the encouraging infusion of nicotine can help soothe her quickly rising panic levels. Except she can’t hold her fucking hand steady enough to spark the lighter.

“Do what?” she asks, cigarette hanging out of her mouth and lungs inflating and deflating at a very rapid pace. She tries to spark the lighter again, but her shaking hand shifts just as she gets it and the flame nicks her thumb, causing her to drop the lighter in a quick yelp of pain, “Fuck!”

“Woah, woah,” Shiv says, rushing forward. She bends down and picks up the lighter, “It’s okay, come on, I’ll do it.”

Karolina looks to her briefly, still confused as to why Shiv’s even on the roof with her, but she nods, raising the cigarette back to her mouth, hand still trembling at an embarrassingly high rate. Shiv lights it and Karolina closes her eyes as she inhales, welcoming the dizzying distraction for the few seconds it lingers. She holds the smoke in for as long as she physically can, and then blows it out into a steady stream, making her way to a wall across from the edge of the rooftop. She leans against it, grateful she can move some of her energy from trying not to fall over to trying to breathe, and Shiv follows her.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Shiv says, and Karolina thinks it’s a stupid thing to say, because why would Shiv even know whether or not she smoked?

“I don’t,” she says. “I quit.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” Shiv says, laughing to herself.

Karolina might laugh if they were under any other circumstance, but she can’t and she feels bad because her attempt probably comes out more like a strangled gasp of air than anything else. She’s definitely still a misstep away from hyperventilating her lungs out, so she can’t find it in herself to feel too bad.

“Sorry,” Shiv then backtracks, “I can leave—if you need—”

“No,” Karolina says, surprising herself. “You can stay.”

“Okay,” Shiv says. “Okay. Yeah, um…I’ll just, I’ll be right here.”

Karolina nods, closing her eyes and resting her head against the cool brick of the roof. Her neck tingles as she does so, but before she can spiral about what that means, she tries to focus on Shiv’s presence, the shifting of her dress against the brick and the sounds her heels make as she gets comfortable. She just tries to breathe through it, waiting for her body to catch up with her mind and realize she’s not in any immediate danger.

“I saw your, um…fuck—your story break,” Karolina says between deep breaths. She thinks she must sound incredibly silly trying to have a conversation like this when she can barely even breathe, but she thinks a conversation might help her through it. Force her to find some semblance of air. “The supportive wife on Good Morning America—it was a, um, it was a nice touch.”

She can’t gauge Shiv’s reaction, because her eyes are still closed, but she seems to take the hint as she carries the conversation on like nothing is actually wrong and they’re just casually having a smoke out on a rooftop.

“Well, I thought about the strategy you proposed, you know, victimize and humanize the client, so when the wife seemed amenable, I thought, why not take it one step further and turn the whole family unit into victims?” Shiv says. “If his wife can forgive him, you can too.”

“You gonna vote for him?” Karolina asks.

“You know, unfortunately, I’m still not a registered voter in the District of Columbia,” Shiv says, feigning disappointment. “So, I’ll just have to sit this one out.”

Karolina laughs, very briefly, trading it inward for another shallow breath. She pushes herself against the back wall harder, just willing it to keep her steady enough to not fucking topple to the ground.

“You sure you don’t want me to get someone?” Shiv asks. “Something?”

Karolina tries to think, but she can’t really go beyond what’s in front of her, and right now, that’s Shiv.

“I don’t know, um…the talking—that was helping,” Karolina manages to get out.

“Okay,” Shiv says, sounding slightly nervous. “Uh, beautiful weather out here to have a panic attack in, really, I must say. You picked a great night.”

Karolina can’t help her eyes from opening at that, even cracking a smile through the labored breaths.

“Jesus,” she says. “That was bad.”

“Well, this isn’t really something they teach you about in political strategist school, so,” Shiv says, though she looks a little proud of herself for the small bit of progress, even if wasn’t intentional.

“Maybe not when you buy your way through a degree,” Karolina says. She’s not sure the remark has her usual bite, which is probably good because it’s a risky joke when she doesn’t know Shiv that well, but Shiv actually laughs once Karolina’s said it.

“Fuck off,” Shiv says, an unlike her father, it sounds warm and comforting and she actually has a ghost of a smile.

Karolina tries backing off the wall, just a little bit, but the sudden movement brings back another bout of dizziness. She brings a hand to her forehead, as if she can somehow just will it to pass, but the aggressive thinking just sends her nerves skyrocketing again, as if she’s in quicksand and the struggle keeps making it worse. She tries quickly turning around, resting an arm against the wall and she hangs her head in the space next to arm, hoping the small enclosure can somehow create a false sense of stability.

“I’m sorry,” Karolina says. “I just need another second.”

She thinks she probably needs more than just a second, and she’s sure Shiv can guess that too, but Shiv obliges, and Karolina uses the silence to actually focus on her breathing, counting ins and outs, until the pattern is a little less erratic. Shiv doesn’t speak again until Karolina’s turned back around, no longer stumbling at just trying to stand.

“Does this happen often?” Shiv asks, her voice softer than Karolina has ever heard from her.

“Not anymore,” Karolina manages to say, and then immediately regrets it, because this is Shiv Roy and there’s really no reason to be divulging anything to her at all like she’s some kind of emotional dumping ground.

“I’m sorry, I—I shouldn’t—” Karolina shakes her head, still battling to find words in her malfunctioning head. “You can go. You don’t have to stay.”

“What, and go back down to that reenactment of the House of Usher?” Shiv chuckles. “I’d rather be up here. Watch the family crumble from afar.”

Karolina goes to take another drag of the cigarette, but it’s mostly burned out. Her hand is still shaking, though far less, and she’s able to take a steadier huff than before, getting what she can out of it and dropping it to the ground.

“Didn’t the whole house fall?” Karolina asks. “I’m not sure the roof would be the best place to stand.”

“In that case…” Shiv sounds nervous. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Karolina raps her knuckles against the wall, the statement makes her breath hitch again.

“To go where?”

“Uh, presumably an apartment,” Shiv says. “With a bed.”

Karolina laughs nervously and eyes Shiv, Shiv just staring back at her with a smug smile. Karolina stops laughing.

“Shiv, I don’t know what makes you think—”

“I’m joking,” Shiv says.

Karolina immediately sighs a relieved breath of air, nearly having forgotten that she was supposed to be trying to breathe at all.

“I mean, unless young, business-savvy redheads are your type,” Shiv says, still shining a sickeningly arrogant smile. “Though, maybe you’ve been eying one of the geriatrics downstairs? Might be tough competition for me.”

“God,” Karolina says, Shiv’s words finally making her laugh for real.

Shiv looks almost a little too proud of herself for making Karolina fully smile, and she wonders if there’s any hint of truth in Shiv’s initial invite, but she tries to not let her mind even go there. She does think it would be nice to just rid herself of this evening, but…with Shiv?

A softer expression then takes hold of Shiv’s face, and Karolina’s again surprised at this nicer side of a Roy. She wasn’t actually sure any of the bloodline had it in them.

“I’m serious, why don’t we just blow this fucking raisin farm,” she says. “Crack open a bottle of wine, get out of these heels…shit talk my dad?”

Karolina almost wants to say yes, but then she remembers the mountain of new paperwork she still has to get through the pounding headache that she knows is due any second.

“I appreciate the offer, really, but I think I just need to go home,” she says, hoping she comes across as genuine. For whatever reason, there’s still a small part of her that would like to take Shiv up on it. Maybe she would have if the night turned out differently. Shiv seems to accept the response easily, though Karolina’s sure Shiv is a pusher under the right conditions. In any case, she does feel ready to sleep for the next three days, and she knows it’s the right thing to do, so she texts Gerri to let her know that she hasn’t offed herself and that she’s just going to go home for the night, and pulls up her car service app.

“Hey, at least let me get you a ride?” Shiv asks, gesturing to Karolina’s phone. “Just so I know you’re okay.”

Karolina isn’t shocked at the gesture. She thinks maybe if her father treated employees like this, she’d also go out of her way to avoid a lawsuit waiting to happen, but there’s also a certain vulnerability to Shiv’s tone, like maybe she is doing it completely out of the goodness of her own heart. Maybe a small part of Karolina is hoping Shiv is doing it for selfish reasons as well. She’s finding that despite the circumstance, some small part of her has actually been enjoying Shiv’s company.

“Okay,” she finally says, nodding her head. “Um, and thank you for, you know, this…”

Her voice trails off, because really, she’d lying if she said she wasn’t a little embarrassed.

“Don’t mention it,” Shiv says. “I’ve seen worse.”

Karolina thinks back to her last Kendall Roy press release and cringes, deridingly feeling less bad about her episode. She follows Shiv to valet, and she uses the car ride to regain some of her energy, letting the potholes and honking taxis lull her back into a state of semi-normalcy. Shiv seems to respect the quiet, not really speaking beyond offering her water and asking whether she prefers the radio on or off, and Karolina feels a little bad that she’d underestimated Shiv’s capacity for genuineness.

When they get to her apartment, she pretends like she doesn’t want to change her mind and invite Shiv up.

—

Shiv starts texting her.

It beings with a checkup, asking her how she’s feeling and if Shiv can do anything for her, which, fine, fair enough, but then she starts texting more. Asking Karolina how her day’s going, sending her funny (in Shiv’s opinion) headlines about her brothers, asking for Karolina’s thoughts on her work, making suggestive passes that Karolina has to constantly dodge. She doesn’t notice at which point she gives into it, only realizing she’s gone too far when Shiv says she’s going to be back in town again for a few days and asks if they can go out to dinner. No, not asks. Insists.

Karolina, in all her stature and fortitude, can’t find it in her to say no.

Which has her rushing into a crowded restaurant after work on Friday night,

 “No worries,” Shiv says. “I’ve been having fun trying to guess what kind of fire you could’ve been putting out so late on a Friday. I wrote down my best guess, wanna hear them?”

“Sure,” Karolina says, her voice letting Shiv know that this is an indulgence and not anything more.

Shiv laughs to herself as she pulls out the list, and Karolina finds it cute.

“Ready?” Shiv asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” Karolina says.

“Karl and Frank have been outed as lovers?”

Karolina nearly chokes on her wine, “Karl wishes.”

“Dad purchased a sex shop chain.”

Karolina quirks an eyebrow, thinking Shiv sounds suspiciously hopeful about that one.

“That would be fun to explain to ATN viewers,” Karolina says. “But no.”

“Boring,” Shiv huffs. “Okay, next one. Roman gave out MDMA at his keynote?”

Karolina thinks her expression must actually be horrified, because Shiv immediately defends the guess.

“Don’t act like he wouldn’t do it,” Shiv says.

“I don’t even want to speak that into existence, Shiv,” Karolina says, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “That would be the worst day of my life.”

“And it would be the best day of mine,” Shiv says, as if she’s waxing poetic. “Okay. Ready for the last one?”

“I’m not sure I am,” she says, eying the crowd in the restaurant. Their table is secluded enough, but it takes one person hearing Shiv Roy out of context and running to page 6 to create a media frenzy. “But go on.”

“Shiv Roy and Karolina Novotney seen on a date?”

Karolina tries her best to look unamused, though she thinks she’s failing miserably, because she can feel her lip twitch upwards just a fraction, and Shiv can’t be bothered to wipe a dramatically shit-eating grin off her face.

“Close,” Karolina says, teasingly.

“Oh really?” Shiv asks, looking smug as ever.

Karolina rolls her eyes, mostly playfully, but then her expression falters a bit when she thinks about the actual hold-up. “It was the last of the theme park settlement. We were stuck in litigation all day, but the parents ultimately agreed to the settlement.”

Shiv leans forward across the table, all hints of humor discarded.

“And?”

Karolina looks down.

“Airtight NDA,” she says.

Shiv makes a noise of disapproval.

“Silenced,” Shiv says.

Karolina shrugs, “It’s what your father wanted.”

At least, that’s what she tries to keep telling herself.

“My dad also wants four wives and to own the entire island of Manhattan,” Shiv says, taking a sip of her wine. “Doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.”

Karolina can’t help her defenses rise.

“I’m not saying it’s right, Shiv,” she says. “I’m just saying it like it is.”

Shiv immediately looks sorry, and Karolina feels bad for snapping.

“Of course not,” Shiv says. “You’re just doing your job, I know.”

Karolina isn’t sure how to respond, worried that all she’s good for lately is just souring the mood, but Shiv seems intent on making it a good dinner.

“Hey, we’re due for a subject change, yeah?” Shiv says. “You grow up around here?”

“Pittsburg,” Karolina says. “I moved down here for college. Never left.”

“Really?” Shiv asks, intrigued. “What school?”

“Columbia,” Karolina says, and Shiv suddenly looks excited?

“I went to Barnard,” she says.

And Karolina can’t help but roll her eyes, because—

“Of course you did,” she says.

Shiv rolls her eyes in return, but then leans closer across the table, as if she needs to whisper.

“This kind of makes us sisters, doesn’t it?”

She wags her eyebrows and Karolina can’t help herself from falling to the bait.

“I hope not,” she says, and Shiv wastes no time going in.

“Oh, so you don’t want to be sisters?” she asks, feigning offense, then confusion. “I wonder why that is?”

Karolina pauses, knowing she has to tread lightly for the rest of this conversation.

“Shiv, I don’t think we should even go there.”

“Come on,” Shiv whines. “I can’t even make a joke?”

“Well, are you joking?”

Shiv seems to think, and then rests her chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Do you want me to be joking?”

Shiv sits there expectantly, waiting so patiently it’s almost defiant, and Karolina wills herself to just shut Shiv down.

“You are…” she trails off.

“Diabolical? Conniving? I’ve always been partial to cu—”

“Very pretty,” Karolina finishes.

Shiv pauses. She looks extremely satisfied, but not like she thinks she’s won yet.

“But?” Shiv asks.

“But,” Karolina draws out, “You’re my boss’s daughter.”

“Well, what, are you gonna send him a detailed report in the morning if we have sexual intercourse?” Shiv laughs. “He’s not gonna know.”

Karolina looks around, still concerned there could be prying ears or eyes, and she subconsciously toys with the silverware in front of her.

“I can’t assure that,” Karolina says, quirking an eyebrow at Shiv.

“If I want to keep my inheritance, you sure as shit can,” Shiv says. “Which I very much do.”

Karolina fully believes her on that front, but she’s still not sold on the idea. She likes Shiv, she really does, but…is this too far?

“Shiv, I really don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“I’m sorry, is there a clause somewhere in your contract that says it isn’t allowed?” Shiv asks. “You know my dad has been trying to pawn me off of the12th floor for years, right?”

Karolina eyes Shiv closely, looking for any hint of a set-up, or disingenuousness. She downs the rest of her wine, just as the waiter arrives with their meal.

“Buy my dinner and I’ll think about it.”

Shiv smirks.

“Deal.”

—

It’s not until they’re halfway undressed in Shiv’s bed, and Karolina’s hovering over her that Shiv says it.

“I have a boyfriend, by the way,” she says, hands paused around Karolina’s waist. “Do you care?”

Her immediate thought is yes, and this is wrong, and we shouldn’t be doing this, but she thinks through all of the truly awful shit she’s done recently and thinks that this won’t even take the cake. Fuck it.

“Do you?”

—

It doesn’t become a regular thing, but it’s about as regular as it can get when Shiv is constantly between DC and NYC. Karolina tries not to think about it too often. She keeps her head down and does her work, she dodges the usual comments and questions about her love life from male clients, she dodges Gerri’s questioning gaze when her answers seem less snarky and more serious than usual. So, maybe she isn’t keeping her head down, but it’s like, mid-level, for sure. And besides, does she have to entertain sleazy men all the time?

Shiv texts her more frequently, sending her something funny she thinks they’ll both enjoy or send something suggestive that she thinks Karolina will enjoy, which no, she doesn’t think it’s a crime for banning Shiv from trying to sext while she’s at work. That issue comes to a head when they’re on the jet traveling for a business meeting, and she can’t help but scrunch her face at Shiv texting, “Come on, everyone does it,” because, really, everyone?

“What is it?” Gerri says, at the same time Karl pipes up, “Bad news?” and she wonders how used they are to her being stoic as a fucking stone that the one time her expression shows any emotion, they think the company is on the verge of collapse. Though, she does fear for the health of the lot if they found out she’s fucking Shiv Roy while twenty-thousand feet up in the air.

“Nothing,” Karolina says, locking her phone. “I just read something.”

“Oh,” Karl muses sarcastically, “You just read something.”

He and Frank still look uneasy, but Gerri just looks suspicious. Karolina eyes her and Gerri pulls a face, as if to say, the fuck? and Karolina just makes a face back, as if to say, shut the fuck up, until she remembers that when a man is being annoying, she’s supposed to be snarky. That’s normal for her. Karolina Novotney makes fun of men and is definitely not fuck-buddies with Logan Roy’s daughter.

“I did,” she finally says. “Do you still remember how to read, Karl?”

His face freezes in the way that he knows he’s been bested, and Gerri and Frank just laugh at him until Logan shouts from the other end of the cabin and they all simmer down like a bunch of school children who have just been put in quiet time.

She resists picking up her phone for the rest of the flight.

—

Situations like that continue, Shiv pushing and pulling and Karolina trying her best to stay malleable. She’s having fun, she is, but she can’t stop thinking about Shiv’s boyfriend, how he’d feel if he found out. It’d be one thing if Karolina didn’t know, but the fact that she does and she’s still a willing participant—it doesn’t feel good. She lets it break her one night when Shiv is in town and they’re having one of their usual meets and she catches a glance at Shiv’s lock screen. He keeps texting her. Karolina does everything she can to not read his name, but she knows it’s him, especially since by the third ding she just flips the phone over.

“Shiv—wait,” Karolina says, lightly pushing Shiv off of her.

“What’s wrong?” Shiv immediately asks, eyes giving Karolina a once-over. She suddenly feels self-conscious in the bed, pants already gone and shirt almost entirely unbuttoned.

“Nothing,” Karolina says, almost as if on instinct, but then, “Not nothing, I’m just…I feel like this is…wrong.”

Karolina’s eyes quickly dart in the direction of the phone, and Shiv’s follow. Shiv sighs, and Karolina thinks if Shiv could pick any superpower in the world right now, she’d figure out how to explode common objects with her eyes.

“You’re worried about Nate?” Shiv asks, and Karolina wishes she didn’t just give him a name because it only makes this all a million times worse.

“It’s not really a nice thing to do to someone, Shiv,” Karolina says. “Fucking his girlfriend when I know he exists.”

Shiv scoffs, and Karolina braces herself for impact.

“You just successfully paid off a family suing Waystar for killing their kid and you’re worried about fucking over a guy you don’t even know?”

In Shiv’s defense, she does seem to regret the words as soon as they come out of her mouth, but the damage is already done once they do. Karolina tries to let them roll off of her, but a blatant reminder of the fact that she’s complete and utter shit doesn’t really help, especially when she hasn’t even finished beating herself up over it just yet. She gets out of the bed silently, not even able to look at Shiv (out of anger or shame, she’s not quite sure) and starts buttoning up her shirt.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Shiv says, following her out of bed. “That wasn’t fair of me—”

“I know I’m not a good person, Shiv…it’s not some, secret,” Karolina says. “I go to work, and I cover up bad behavior and I make awful people sound like saints and I do it with a smile on my face because I’m good at it, I am. But I don’t need that to follow me home.”

“That’s not—”

“If I can just have one piece of my life where I’m not a villain just for existing, that would keep me sane,” Karolina says. “So, no, I don’t want to be your fucking—homewrecker, Shiv. I don’t need to imagine the upset face of your boyfriend every time I close my eyes, and I certainly don’t need the excess guilt, because I promise you, I already have enough.”

Her chest heaves and she has to take a few deep breaths to stop herself from completely breaking down over the outburst. She makes a mental note to schedule someone to talk to, because really, this is getting out of hand, but it certainly doesn’t help when your fuck-buddy insinuates that you personally covered up a murder.

Shiv seems slightly frozen in place, and Karolina gets it, because how can this girl even think about other people as if they’re humans with feelings when it’s blatantly clear that nobody has ever extended that same care to her?

“Karolina, I—”

“It’s okay,” Karolina interrupts, “It’s okay, Shiv, I’m sorry, that was—”

Shiv nods along encouragingly with a type of patience that feels almost undeserved when Karolina is the one that keeps putting them both in this fucking tired savior dynamic, but she really feels like this moment might be her breaking point because she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep pretending that it doesn’t feel like she walked into that theme park and ripped out that child’s heart herself.

“Will you just…I mean can you—can you just hug me?” she feels stupid for asking, she feels stupid standing here in Shiv’s penthouse just being absolutely pathetic, but she doesn’t know what else to do.

“Okay,” Shiv says quietly, and although there’s a supportive lull to her voice, the hug is still hesitant.

It’s not until Karolina actually starts crying that Shiv seems to understand that Karolina just needs to be comforted, and Karolina can feel this realization when Shiv just holds her tighter and then brings them back to the bed. Shiv lets Karolina lay in her arms, and she plays with Karolina’s hair, and occasionally whispers something that Karolina’s too distracted to understand but likes the sound of anyway, and she wishes that Shiv thought more highly of herself as a person who can be there for others, because she’s doing a pretty good job at it.

Sometime later, when Karolina’s stopped and she thinks Shiv has fallen asleep, Shiv speaks up.

“I’m breaking up with Nate.”

Which, Karolina doesn’t necessarily believe because it would’ve made the night a lot better if it had been brought up sooner, and she also doesn’t want to believe it because what does it mean if Shiv’s out there breaking up with people just so they can continue to fool around?

“Shiv, I’m not trying to give you an ultimatum here,” Karolina says, voice tired. “And I don’t want you to lie to me, either.”

If Shiv takes offense to the accusation, she doesn’t let it show. She just sighs and plays with Karolina’s hair again, and turns off the bedside lamp illuminating the room.

“It was a dead-end relationship long before you came into the picture.”

For some reason, Karolina believes that.

—

Shiv didn’t lie to her.

Karolina’s not a stalker, but it is her job to keep tabs on people, so why not keep tabs on the one person who happens to be with the same person she’s…involved with? The tabs are showing that he has a new girlfriend. Some blonde off of Capitol Hill with a degree from Georgetown and a few low-profile successes. A downgrade from Shiv. Karolina feels another twinge of guilt still lingering from the situation, but she’s been dealing with it better, thanks to actually following through with speaking to someone.

She tries to remember phrases like healthy guilt and unhealthy guilt. The theme park payoff is a grey area, but at the end of the day, she was just doing her job. Being the messenger doesn’t make you the bad guy: unhealthy guilty.

Fucking a woman who told you she had a boyfriend, but recognizing you were doing something wrong and attempting to fix it, only for her to break his heart: unhealthy guilt.

She finds it works for her, being able to put things into boxes and categories. She can be more rational about it all that way.

“I’m glad it’s helping,” Shiv says, one night as they’re laying on the couch after dinner. She’d been back in town more frequently because she has a high-profile election coming up that’s going to keep her busy. She said she wanted to spend all the time with Karolina that she could get. They’ve had a rotation of movies on that neither of them is paying attention to, just enjoying one another’s company.

“Me too,” Karolina says, shifting her arms closer around Shiv. “Thank you, for being there.”

Shiv just shrugs, always nonchalant when it comes to accepting gratitude.

“Just promise to be there for me too when I’m going through my menopausal midlife crisis.”

Karolina can’t see her face, but she can certainly hear the smirk in Shiv’s words, and she just scoffs.

“Just remember who’s controlling the PR narrative when you do,” she replies, and Shiv laughs, then looks up.

“You know you’d make me look like an angel,” Shiv says, then mimicking Karolina’s voice, “Waystar Royco is aware of Shiv Roy’s recent behavior and the Roy family is taking all of the measures necessary to ensure she is receiving the proper care at this time—”

Karolina rolls her eyes.

“How am I doing?” Shiv asks. Her playfulness has been the biggest surprise in getting to know her.

“Sounds like someone reads all of my press releases.”

“Well, you know I’m your biggest fan,” Shiv says, smiling.

Karolina blushes, something she’s found herself doing more and more around Shiv recently.

“I think I’m going to put in for a promotion at the end of the year,” Karolina says. Shiv looks surprised, but she definitely doesn’t look worried, so that has to be a good sign, right?

“Oh?” Shiv says. “Feeling bossy?”

The one thing that hasn’t surprised her is Shiv’s ability to make an innuendo out of any situation. Karolina knows she must pull a face because Shiv’s immediately sitting up, giving Karolina her undivided attention.

“Come on, tell me about this promotion,” she says.

“My boss suggested to me that he might be leaving,” Karolina explains. Hugo from Cruises has also been eying the position for a while, but, I don’t know. I think I’m better.”

“Well, my dad certainly likes you,” Shiv says.

Karolina frowns.

“You think?”

“You’re like, the only person I’ve never seen him insult for longer than a sentence without giving up,” Shiv says. “I think he respects you.”

“As much as he can respect a woman,” Karolina says.

“Still more than some people get,” Shiv says.

Karolina nods, letting that thought sit.

“I think you’d do amazing,” Shiv says. “You’re already doing half the leg work. They’d fall apart without you.”

Shiv lays back down, settling into Karolina’s chest again.

“Thanks, Shiv.”

Shiv just squeezes Karolina’s hand and turns her attention back to the movie. They’re like that for a while, and Karolina’s just getting into the plot again when Shiv speaks.

“Do you think we could ever…” she pauses. “Be a real couple?”

The question sends a sharp pang through her stomach. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it. She’d also be lying if she told Shiv yes.

“I think if you want your father in your life and I want to continue having a career…” she shakes her head, not wanting to finish the sentence. “I don’t know, Shiv. I don’t think so.”

“It could work out,” Shiv reasons. “Maybe he’d find the idea of lesbians hot.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Roman too much,” Karolina says, not wanting to even consider the idea of Logan finding her hot.

“I think that would hurt Roman’s feelings if he knew you’ve been saying that,” Shiv says.

“He’ll cope,” Karolina says, eyes following some train-based action sequence that’s on the television.

“I’m not being serious-serious,” Shiv says, continuing the main conversation. “I just…think about it sometimes.”

Karolina sighs. This conversation just makes her sad, because she genuinely believes that it would be a dramatic fall from grace for Shiv if they were to actually do it.

“Maybe if you found another billionaire-heiress your own age who wasn’t in a high-level position at his flagship company,” Karolina says. “Maybe he’d stomach it enough to not disown you.”

“He’s not that bad,” Shiv says, though it doesn’t sound like she necessarily believes herself, and Karolina hesitates on responding.

She likes to think Logan might not be that bad deep down, but she hears the things he says behind closed doors and cleans the messes he makes in front of open ones. She’s sure Shiv’s seen more and worse, though, so she won’t press it. It’s not for her to decide whether or not Shiv should believe there’s good in her father.

“What’s your dad like?” Shiv asks.

Karolina’s breath hitches slightly at the question, and she knows Shiv isn’t going to get the answer she wants. She briefly considers lying, like it’ll help them both somehow if there’s an imaginary good father between them, but it’s useless.

“He was a very sad man who liked to hit my mother,” Karolina admits.

Shiv’s hand twitches against Karolina’s torso. Karolina doesn’t really scream issues the way Shiv and her siblings do, but she thinks that maybe it’s different when your dad isn’t the founder of a multi-billion-dollar Fortune 500. Maybe there’s less pressure to stay. Karolina’s father never had to pretend to love her. He just pretended to not hate her.

“Did he ever hit you?” Shiv asks.

Karolina thinks it would be a more upsetting question coming from anyone else. Because it is, a prying and awful question that she feels sick just even thinking about, but she finds she feels comfortable with Shiv. Maybe it was that first night on the rooftop, or maybe even as far back as the gum in the bathroom, but Shiv has consistently shown up for her. Karolina trusts her.

“Once,” Karolina says. “Right before I went away to college.”

He was mad that she was leaving. Mad she figured it all out without him, mad that he wasn’t a better father. Sometimes, if she’s not paying attention it’ll creep up on her, the way he slammed her against the wall of their living room and the picture frames behind her just shattered to the floor. How she had to sleep on her side for the first two weeks of school because she’d had to get stitched on the back of her neck and she couldn’t lay down any other way. The way he’d slapped her and pointed his finger in her face and just yelled when she tried to fight back.

Shiv just nods, like this all makes perfect sense. Like this is just how fathers should be expected to behave.

“Sometimes I wish he would just finally hit me,” Shiv says. “Then it might be easier to hate him.”

Karolina just holds Shiv tighter, intertwining their hands together. Shiv rubs her thumb along the side of Karolina’s hand, and Karolina battles all the different words swirling around in her head.

“It wouldn’t be,” she eventually says.

—

Shiv goes back to DC to work with the client. She calls Karolina a lot, like when she’s commuting to work or waiting for the office’s lunch order. Karolina laughs at her because she thinks it’s funny imagining Shiv Roy picking up the group lunch order for an office, but Shiv seems extra keen on impressing this client. Shiv won’t talk about him with her, which she does find odd.

Past clients would have her sending diaries worth of complaints and personal details, but this one gets virtually nothing out of her. At first, she thinks maybe Shiv’s just being respectful. Turning a new leaf because it’s her biggest client so far and she doesn’t want to accidentally cause trouble. Karolina can respect that.

They’re making out in Karolina’s bed, finishing off a short trip Shiv made back home for the weekend, when there’s just one question she can’t shake.

“Why don’t you ever say his name?” Karolina asks.

Shiv pauses over her immediately, one hand still on Karolina’s waist and the other much lower. She looks thoughtful, but Karolina would be lying if she didn’t think there was a twinge of annoyance in Shiv’s response.

“I don’t want this to be a thing, Karolina.”

Karolina stiffens.

She can’t help it when a shocked, “Oh,” leaves her mouth. Shiv’s fucking him.

Shiv sighs and runs a hand over her face. She reaches over Karolina and turns the lamp on, excusing herself to the bathroom.

It’s not until Shiv’s walking away from Karolina that she sees a small littering of bruises on the backs of Shiv’s arms. They don’t look new, but they don’t look old either. She tries not to jump to the worst-case scenario, especially given the new information she’s just acquired, and she pushes it to the back of her mind. Shiv likes it rough. She would know.

When Shiv returns, she just crawls back into the bed, seemingly giving up on their previous position.

“Do you want to…?” Karolina’s at a loss, because there’s usually only one thing Shiv wants, and it’s hard to stop her once she’s gotten started, but Shiv just shakes her head and lays down in Karolina’s lap.

“Ca we just stay here?” she asks.

“Of course,” Karolina says, relaxing into the pillows behind her. She runs a hand lazily through Shiv’s hair and lets her fingers brush over the remnants of the bruising she can now see up close. “Whatever you want.”

She pretends not to notice as Shiv silently cries.

—

Their calls become less frequent. The campaign trail is picking up, of course, Karolina doesn’t live under a rock, so she knows it’s a busy time, but ever since that weekend she’s been sick with worry.

After work, she decides to call Shiv and ask her to cut the shit. She’s feeling good about it, until a man picks up.

“What?” His voice is angry and mean.

“Uh…I’m sorry, is Shiv there?”

The line is silent until she thinks she hears Shiv’s voice, distant in the background of the other end.

She hears a, just give me my fucking phone, and then a, is that her? and Karolina has to stop herself from shouting at this man into the line because she’s afraid she’s already put Shiv in enough danger just by trying to call her.

There’s some indistinguishable arguing until his voice is back on the line, “Don’t call this number again,” and then the call cuts out.

She doesn’t call again, because she’s not an idiot, but she does pace for a good fifteen minutes before deciding to send Shiv an email from her burner account. It was from when they first started hanging out, and Karolina was paranoid about everything. She thinks now that maybe they were right to be careful back then, if this is where it’s led them.

She doesn’t get a response for two sleepless nights and three horrifyingly long days, until her phone wakes her up in the middle of the night, Shiv’s contact illuminating the room. It knocks the sleep out of her immediately.

“Shiv?” she says, worriedly.

“Can I come to your apartment?” Shiv asks, getting right to the point. Karolina tries to listen for anything wrong in her voice, but if there is, she’s doing a good job at hiding it.

“Where are you?” Karolina asks, turning on her lamp.

“At the airport,” Shiv says. “There’s a car coming, I—I don’t want to be—Can I just come over?”

“Yes, of course,” Karolina says. “The doorman will let you in, okay? Just come up when you’re here.”

Karolina waits anxiously in her living room. She turns on the TV, but the sound of the trashy late-night laugh-tracks becomes too overwhelming and she turns it off, opting to sit in silence while she waits, trying not to let her mind wander too much. Maybe they just got into a fight. A normal fight. She lets that thought consume her until she hears her front door handle twist, and she rushes into the foyer.

She gives Shiv space, and Shiv doesn’t say anything as she removes her coat, and then her hat, and Karolina tries to inspect her movements from the angle she’s at, but Shiv still hasn’t turned to look at her and when she starts to fuss with something in her bag it feels like might be avoiding it altogether. Karolina can feel an awful dread settle in her stomach.

“Shiv, will you please look at me?”

She can see Shiv’s eyebrow furrow and her chest rise a little faster.

“I just need to find something,” Shiv says, kneeling down with the bag. She’s still off to the side, not letting Karolina get a good view apart from her profile.

“Can you please just let me see your face?” Silence. “Shiv—”

“What?” Shiv shouts, finally fully looking at Karolina. For a moment, Karolina wishes she could go back in time and not push Shiv to turn around so quickly, because she doesn’t think she was ready for the way it feels having Shiv stare her down with a bruised and bloody eye. It’s not the worst Karolina’s ever seen, but the contrasting purples and reds on Shiv’s pale skin make it look more alarming, not to mention the fact that it’s Shiv. Her Shiv.

Shiv stands and Karolina takes a tentative step forward, careful not to invade Shiv’s space, and she notices there’s also a gash above Shiv’s eyebrows. It doesn’t look fresh, which she can only assume means this happens a few days ago, which also narrows down the suspects in confirming her suspicion.

“How’d that happen?” she asks, anyway.

Shiv looks deeply uncomfortable, and Karolina’s heart breaks at how small she looks.

“My phone, it—it hit me, accidentally,” Shiv says.

“Your phone hit you, accidentally,” Karolina says, not buying it.

Shiv nods, looking away from her.

“And was it in someone else’s hand, accidentally?” Karolina asks.

Shiv pretends to think, and Karolina can tell she’s staving off tears.

“Um..no, I think it—it might’ve been in the air, yeah,” she sniffs. “Like, maybe someone threw it.”

“So, someone threw your phone, and it accidentally hit you,” Karolina clarifies.

“But it wasn’t supposed to,” Shiv says.

“What was it supposed to hit, Shiv?”

Shiv shrugs.

“The wall?” she says, as if that makes it any better.

Which, it doesn’t. Because Karolina doesn’t buy the story and Shiv knows she doesn’t buy the story, but that’s still the only story she’ll ever get, and Karolina accepts this about Shiv. That Karolina will tear her heart open wide and Shiv will only ever meet her a quarter of the way. That doesn’t matter though, not now, at least, because Shiv clearly needs all of Karolina, whether she can face admitting it or not.

She approaches Shiv slowly, testing the waters of contact until she reaches an arm around Shiv and the floodgates finally open, anything she’d been holding in the last few months just pouring out. Karolina thinks that not long ago, the roles were reversed, but somehow, she’s not optimistic that there’s a clear way out of this one, the strange debt that Shiv thinks she owes to the various men who worm their way into her life.

For now, she just hugs Shiv and pretends like it might all be okay.

—

Shiv asks to stay for the week.

On one of the nights, Karolina finds Shiv on the balcony after waking up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. She’s toying with a carton of cigarettes, a lit one in her hand, just simmering away as Shiv watches.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to use the first-hand smoke,” Karolina says, sitting down next to her. “Not the second.”

Shiv smiles, though it doesn’t nearly reach her eyes, and she taps the growing ash off of the cigarette before moving it towards Karolina, offering it to her. Karolina hesitates, thinking there are few things she could use more than a smoke right now, but decides not to take it. Shiv seems to remember then that they’ve spoken about this before.

“Sorry,” she says. “I forgot that you quit.”

“It’s okay,” Karolina says. “I’m a little grey about the rules sometimes.”

Shiv looks at her with an inquisitive gleam in her eye. That look usually means trouble, but tonight, it just feels pensive. Karolina hesitates again though, because she’s shared so much of her past with Shiv and she can’t remember the last time she let someone know this much about herself. She’s happy to share again though, if it means getting Shiv out of whatever headspace has her sitting out on a balcony at four in the morning.

“I was in a pretty serious relationship,” Karolina says. “We’d started talking about family planning, so…”

“Did you…?” Shiv’s voice drifts off, but Karolina can imagine the question.

“Get pregnant?” she finishes for Shiv, and Shiv nods. She shakes her head. “The first round didn’t take. Which isn’t uncommon, but…my partner, it gave her cold feet.”

“Was this recent?” Shiv asks, an edge of concern now coating her voice.

“No,” Karolina assures, grabbing Shiv’s empty hand in her own. “Almost ten years ago, now.”

The statement makes Karolina feel like a walking warning for Shiv. Like she better get her shit together now or she’ll end up a lonely workaholic with all those years of living and nothing material to show for it. Except Shiv doesn’t look alarmed, she just seems sad.

“Well, you’re a stronger person than me,” Shiv says. “I probably would’ve become the world’s most talented smoker after that.”

Karolina smiles sadly.

“I guess I’m good at letting things go.”

She doesn’t look at Shiv as she says it, but Shiv’s hand shifts in her own and she momentarily feels bad for saying it at all. She decides to change the topic, if only just a little bit.

“I didn’t know you smoked too,” she says. “I’ve never seen you do it.”

She feels Shiv tense up next to her.

“Oh, um…yeah, I don’t really,” Shiv says, stumbling through her answer. Karolina eyes the ashtray, noticing a couple of butts already in there, burned down to the brim, but she doesn’t think chain-smoking makes much sense for someone she’s never even seen bring a cigarette to their lips.

“You a secret pyro?” she asks, hoping to get even a small smile out of Shiv, but it doesn’t work.

“I don’t know what the fuck I am,” Shiv says, sighing. “Just, royally fucked up, maybe.”

Shiv lets go of Karolina’s hand and wraps her arm around her torso, her fingers stopping in a spot that makes Karolina go very still. She’s not sure how she didn’t put the pieces together sooner. She remembers seeing marred skin in that exact spot across Shiv’s hipbone. An inconsequential spot, the kind that nobody can ever get close enough to see unless they’re also receiving NDA and a lay in the pitch dark. It was faded then, and Karolina doesn’t think she would’ve noticed if they hadn’t screwed so many times, and when you’re paying attention to someone you like, you notice. The middle of an orgasm isn’t necessarily the time and place to ask about it though, so she never brought it up. It wasn’t her business anyway.

Right now, it feels a little bit like her business.

“Shiv…” Karolina says, sitting up. She’s sure Shiv can follow her eyes as they dart from the ash tray to Shiv’s hovering hand with the cigarette and clearly all over Shiv’s body as she looks for damage, and Shiv’s body tenses up in defense.

“No, it’s not—I haven’t done anything,” Shiv rushes out. It sounds like she’s trying to convince Karolina, but Karolina can only ever trust Shiv as far as her eye can see, and currently, she can’t see a lot.

“But you have?” Karolina asks.” Before?”

Because if Shiv can pry, then Karolina can pry too and she worries that she’s being too hard, being too mechanical, but this is scary and it’s right in front of her. Shiv looks away from her and taps more cigarette ash into the tray, the bulk of it almost burned out, as if it’s a timer that dictates when Shiv is going to stop entertaining this conversation.

“In college, I—” she cuts herself off. “I just needed something to make the pain different. Something I could see.”

Sometimes I wish he would finally just hit me.

Karolina’s breath hitches. Her gaze hovers over Shiv’s eye and Karolina wonders if she still thinks that.

“And what about right now?” Karolina asks.

Shiv cocks her head and her face twists in that way that Karolina knows she’s using everything in her to stay in a place of control.

“I just want to feel anything,” she says, in a low voice. A few silent tears finally escape her eyes, leaving tracks over the now lighter smothering of purple and yellow hues surrounding her eye. The bruise had gotten larger as it faded, trailing from her eye, to her hairline, and then slightly across her cheekbone.

Karolina shifts back next to her and coaxes Shiv into her arms, lightly taking the cigarette and putting the last of it out. If Shiv flinches at the crackle of the embers meeting the ashtray, Karolina doesn’t mention it.

Karolina knows that in the morning they won’t talk about this, that they’ll get out of bed and Shiv will say something dismissive like, “Last night was interesting, huh?” and Karolina will have to laugh it off, assure Shiv that Karolina still sees her as something formidable, like she’s not a little girl that the universe has tasked Karolina with fixing and that Karolina doesn’t hold all of the cards in their dynamic even though sometimes it feels like she actually does.

(She thinks deep down, that Shiv has to know. Every action they take, every step they’ve gone forward, has been due to Shiv’s brazenness, sure, but it’s all been contingent on Karolina saying yes. She has the power of veto, yet they both seem to ignore that until a reminder rips through their lives.)

She’ll make Shiv coffee, just the way Shiv likes it, and Shiv will spout off polling numbers for the man that Karolina is pretty sure she should find and publicly maim in the middle of Washington, and she’ll act happy. She’ll say, “That’s great, Shiv. Really, you’re doing a great job,” and Shiv will pretend she means it. It’s their dance.

Karolina thinks if she were a better person, she might not tolerate it.

—

Then, Shiv starts to slip from her. Not in noticeable ways, and not like before, but it’s noticeable to Karolina, and it feels like she’s being avoided. Like, their calls that had resumed frequency suddenly slow down again. When they do get a chance to talk it’s like Shiv is rushing through their conversations, itching to get on the line with someone else. When she asks what Shiv’s been up to, she just gets vague answers.

“Work. Sleep. Strategy meeting. Sleep. It’s all the same these days.”

Karolina tries not to care. Shiv was never hers, not really. She was an idea, a playmate. If she has to let her go, then whatever, she has to let her go, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting.

The confirmation eventually comes from the last person she ever thought it would, because Logan of all people asks Karolina the most bizarre question when he calls her in early before a morning briefing.

“What do you think about that Tom guy?” he asks.

“Tom?” she asks, feigning ignorance. Because of course she knows Tom. He’s the biggest kiss-ass below the top floor, not to mention the rumors. Which Karolina thinks should’ve been enough for her to get a clue, but maybe she was being obtuse on purpose. Maybe she thought Shiv would have the decency to tell her this time.

“From the Resorts Division,” he says. “Any rumblings about him? Errant behavior?”

Karolina has half a mind to lie, to say that she’s heard whispers that he could be trouble, that he’s a little too eager to make it to the top—but if Shiv’s happy…then fine. If it can’t be her, then fine.

“Nothing I’m privy to, sir,” she says, sending him a curt smile.

Logan makes a noise of contentment.

“Will you keep an eye on him?” he asks. “Let me know if the image down there is…inadequate.”

“Of course,” Karolina says, taking her seat.

She thinks it’s kind of fucked up that she has to give a presentation right after this news, like finding out the girl you’re fucking has probably been lying to you and seeing someone else should qualify for at least a half-day off or something, especially if your boss is the one who told you and the girl is his daughter, because really, is she seriously not even worth a, by the way?

They have plans to see each other that night. She’s going over to Shiv’s place and they’re supposed to make dinner together and do whatever the fuck it is that they do these days. How to bring it up tortures her all day until she gets there, and all she can do is act cold. She knows silent treatment is juvenile and bordering on cruelty, but she can’t help it. She’s just so angry.

“Okay,” Shiv finally says, putting her utensils down. “What’s wrong?”

The question makes Karolina halt, but then she finishes chopping the tomato in front of her, not slowing down until it’s fully cut. She slides the diced vegetable off the cutting board and into a bowl, and then sets it all down, wiping her hands clean.

“How long?” she asks, looking to Shiv.

“What?” Shiv asks, expression immediately confused.

Karolina can’t help but to roll her eyes, and she can’t stop the accusatory tone from coming out as she speaks.

“You know what.”

Which only makes Shiv angry, because if any of the Roys have a short fuse, it’s her.

“I’m not a fuckin’ mind reader, Kay,” she says.

Karolina can’t stop it as a sarcastic laugh escapes her, and she crosses her arms, still somehow in disbelief that Shiv won’t just fucking tell her.

“I seriously had to find out from Logan,” she says, almost to herself, and she turns away from Shiv.

“Yeah, still not getting whatever telepathic link you suddenly think we have,” Shiv says.

Karolina turns back around, almost willing Shiv to take the opportunity that Karolina’s giving her, to just tell her straight up so that Karolina can still pretend that Shiv cares about her the way she cares about Shiv. But Shiv doesn’t bite. It’s like Shiv can see Karolina at her worst but the one time the cards finally flipped she couldn’t take it. Shiv Roy would rather ruin it all than let Karolina be a witness to her vulnerability.

“Tom?” Karolina says, Shiv’s face finally dropping in recognition. “Does that name ring any bells?”

Shiv crosses her arms. If Karolina is going to give her a second chance to fix it, this would be the moment.

“Uh—No, I—that doesn’t sound..” Shiv clears her throat. “Doesn’t sound familiar, no.”

Karolina clearly hoped for too much.

“No?” she says. “Okay.”

She walks away from the kitchen, and starts going around the apartment, picking up various things she knows belong to her. She hadn’t realized how much their lives were intertwined at this point, and she wonders if that’s why it hurts so much. She spent so much time letting Shiv in, sharing parts of herself that nobody gets the privilege of these days and Shiv just couldn’t handle doing it back. She reminds herself that they could never be anything more than what they were, that it was always a dead end, but maybe she’d tricked herself. Let herself think briefly that they could make it work in their own, private and fucked up way.

“What are you doing?” Shiv asks, following her trail.

“I’m going home,” Karolina says, shoving her work files into her bag. “I’m going to run a bath, and I’m going to drink my wine, and I’m going to pretend you didn’t just lie straight to my fucking face.”

Shiv’s expression hardens, and she runs a hand across her face as if Karolina’s just told her something trivial that’s simply inconveniencing her day.

“Come on,” she says. “What do you want me to say?”

Karolina lets out a hostile huff of air, turning quickly from her bag to face Shiv.

“What do I want you to say?” she repeats. “How about, hey, Karolina, remember how you told me you weren’t comfortable seeing me if I was in a relationship? Well, this just in, I’ve actually been in one, so, get fucked I guess!”

She stalks away, heading for the door.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” Shiv says, quickly following her.

Karolina stops in her tracks abruptly and turns around, Shiv nearly running into her as she does so. One more chance.

“How long?” she asks.

“Queen of lies and manipulation wants to sit on moral high ground now,” Shiv says, a new bite in her voice. “Were Nate and TK not fully deserving of your mercy?”

Which is a low blow, because they’d talked about this. Karolina had almost let the guilt from Nate blow up her life and now Shiv’s weaponizing it against her. But if Shiv wants to go low, Karolina can go low.

“You’re admitting those were real relationships now?” Karolina asks. “I thought they were just placeholders for when you couldn’t find someone willing to hug you at night.”

Shiv laughs sharply, shaking her head.

“That’s real rich coming from you,” Shiv says. “At least I have people. Don’t you get lonely waiting for your young piece of ass to come visit you in secret once every two months? Might wanna get serious about love, babe. The clock’s ticking.”

Karolina’s face twists, and there are strings and strings of insults and blows she’d like to deal Shiv right now, but one simple word just takes hold.

“You’re rotten, Shiv.”

It’s at that moment that Shiv seems to realize the gravity of her actions, because she was right, Karolina is the queen of being a fucking bitch, and if she’s backing down from a fight, then you’ve probably gone too far. Shiv’s chest rises and falls in a small huff and she runs her hand through her hair, looking frustrated.

“I’m sorry,” she says, though it sounds forced and somehow, Karolina’s not quite buying that she means it.

“How long, Shiv?” she asks, even though she thinks the chances are over. She just needs to know. “I’m not asking again.”

Shiv’s body stiffens and she averts her eyes, the classic Siobhan Roy tell that Karolina is never going to get what she wants.

“I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “A month? Two? Maybe, less—I, I don’t know, Karolina. I’m not keeping score of how many dates I’ve been on recently.”

“Jesus,” Karolina says to herself, not wanting to believe that Shiv had been lying to her for this long.

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal,” Shiv says, which makes Karolina snap, because Shiv does know. They’ve had endless conversations why it’s such a big deal and Shiv still chose to disrespect her. “Tom’s not even—”

“It’s not fucking about Tom, Shiv!” Karolina finally bursts. “It’s about you. Did you just think all this time we’ve been hanging out without fucking was just fucked up domestic foreplay? You’re my friend, and you lied to me. About something I really tried to trust you with.”

She thinks Shiv looks regretful, she thinks Shiv looks a little bit ashamed, and she also thinks Shiv looks sorry, but Karolina knows that she isn’t going to back down. Shiv is going to dig her heel in and make it worse because what else should she expect from a Roy who’s been backed into a corner?

“He’s never gonna know, Karolina,” Shiv argues, and Karolina can’t believe that months later they’re still having this conversation.

“But I’ll know,” Karolina says. “I’m going to have to go into work and see his fucking face every day, and the only thing I’ll be able to think about is how I’m fucking his girlfriend. Do you even care how that makes me feel?”

“I don’t see why it has to make you feel like anything,” Shiv says. “He doesn’t matter to you.”

It’s in that moment Karolina truly accepts that Shiv isn’t going to let her go. Can’t let her go. She feels like she walked into this, like from that first mischievous smile in the coffee shop she should’ve known that this would ultimately crash and burn. She sniffs, and realizes she’s crying. As she brushes away a tear, she sees the way Shiv jerks on instinct, like she knows there’s something catastrophically wrong with being the reason for Karolina to cry. Karolina just takes a calming breath.

“Shiv, I think we need to be done here.”

Shiv’s expression immediately falls, any anger and understanding immediately overcome with shock.

“You don’t mean that,” Shiv says, and if Karolina didn’t know any better, she’d think Shiv was about to start crying too.

“I do mean that,” Karolina says. “I don’t want to mean it, but I do.”

Shiv turns away from her for a second as if the mere sight of Karolina is suddenly too much, and Karolina gets it because looking at Shiv right now, it’s taking everything in her not to just fall to Shiv’s feet and take everything that she’s said back. It kind of feels like their worlds are falling apart, and in some sense, Karolina thinks they are.

“This couldn’t go on forever, right?” Karolina says, a sad resignation in her tone.

But Shiv grows slightly angry again, because Karolina knows this isn’t the outcome that she wanted, and Shiv certainly gets everything she wants. Karolina thinks that’s just what she tells herself.

“You’re making a mistake,” Shiv says, coldly.

“I’m making a choice that you don’t have the guts to make,” Karolina says.

If she were a better person, she would hug Shiv, one last time. If she were less selfish, she’d drop the act and she’d pour her heart out one last time, assure Shiv that things will be okay and one day they’ll move on from this, but she doesn’t. Instead, she picks up her bag, and those are the words Karolina leaves her with. She briefly wonders if she’s not so different from Shiv. If she also took the cowardly way out because leaving Shiv crying in her doorway was easier than begging Shiv to just be with her for real; but she’s not a better person, and she likes being selfish because it’s always been practical. Shiv Roy would’ve destroyed her, if she weren’t. Karolina almost let her.

So she goes home, and cries for a day, busying herself with emails and press inquiries and she lets it sink in all that she’s losing, all that she’s lost. She eventually finds the last of Shiv’s things, a sweater here and a book there, and ships them off, and has to move on. Pretend like none of it ever happened.

“You’ve been keeping an eye on Tom?” Logan asks one day, late into the next week. The thought of him still makes her hands curl in an undetectable fit of jealousy.

“He’s on vacation currently,” Karolina says. “There are rumblings that he went off to Paris.”

There are also rumblings that Siobhan Roy was spotted in Paris with a mystery man. Karolina swallows the anger of knowing he won, and she thinks it’s stupid, because he didn’t even know there was competition.

Logan seems pleased with the update, and she’s sure he’s seen the tabloids anyway.

“Very well,” he says.

When she goes to leave, he beckons her back.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I heard you put your hat in the ring to step up,” he says, shuffling papers on his desk. He pauses, and then looks up at her.

“I did, I…thought it might be time,” she says, arms wrapped tightly around her binder.

He eyes her and she holds her breath, thinking it’s funny how one man has seemingly held the key to everything in her life recently. She thinks she should hate him, then she remembers how Shiv can’t.

“We should have a talk about what that would mean for you,” Logan finally says. “Block out an appointment with Joan.”

She bites down the excitement in favor of keeping her exterior calm, simply nodding her head.

“Okay, I will,” she says. “Thank you, Logan.”

He returns to his work, not bothering to say you’re welcome, and Karolina takes that as her cue to exit the office. She unlocks her phone, not even realizing where her fingers are heading until she’s already there, hovering over Shiv’s contact. Her heart swells and her step falters for a moment. She hesitates, wanting so badly to just give in and press it. She knows she shouldn’t. She takes a deep breath, and then locks her phone.

Maybe not a better person, but at the very least, better off.

[fragilelovelythings]

I’m rewatching Sucession (I’m currently on Season 2 Episode 06 “Argestes”) and Roman semeed so different on season 01. Like the whole vibe around him was more laid back or he was just sillier. Like he let himself be almost cute and dumb, sure bothering his sibs and still looking for Logan’s approval, but it was all sensed at least for me as just a guy with deep issues and disgusting amounts of money.

Besides the obvious anxiety peaks and petty competition with Kendall, the puppy behaviour with Gerri and his neediness, omg. Especially on Season 2 at the beginning; the whole taking over and destruction of Vulture, which was his prompt but totally unaware of its meaning. He just wanted to shine over Kendall, of course seeing his window of opportunity: the bear hug put Kendall maybe under his own position, meaning he could finally shine and show dad how better he was from the number one boy. Like really thinking he could become it.

And still, having fucked the Japanese rocket launch, he goes and suggests dismantling Vulture knowing nothing about its repercussions. But there he is, almost proud, almost confident but unsure because he knows at least Kendall really understands the moves. He just acts by intuition and despair which is the same thing that makes him tell Gerri “I want you in the room”. Sure she does, the full projection of his mommy needs wrapped up on her.

But on season 2 he tries to get more into it, still confused on whatever truly happened with the bear hug and why Kendall acts so submissive. It’s like he could swap places with him because Shiv didn’t look as a threat until Tern Haven. Seeing her fuck herself up dismissed quickly his need to crush her because after all he does love his family, even if they’re unwell and unable to love him back.

So Gerri sends him off to court another man, mixing the unbalanced relationship they began developing by putting him into good used ultimately for Waystar’s needs. Either Roman sees it or not, it matters really little because he’s getting attention and that’s good enough for him to just go and wail his tail.

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil; Chapter 9

Roman Roy x Reader

Word Count: 3.518k

You walk slowly back and forth on the cool marble flooring of Shiv’s apartment, trying not to slip on your socks. You're gesturing vaguely at your laptop as you pace, which Roman had gotten to project on her living room TV. You have the spreadsheet of Connor’s financial ruin pulled up, letting everyone mull it over.

“We have many options right now, and all of them are good,” you tell your miniature peanut gallery of the siblings- minus Connor -, plus Gerri and Greg. “We serve Connor. All this does is get him off of our asses, gets us some spending money. Doesn’t eliminate the massive fucking problem that is Logan Roy, doesn’t deal with anything involving Waystar. Purely a ‘fuck you’ to Connor and he goes to jail for five minutes before Daddy bails him out.” You glance around the room, remembering your audience. “Uh, no offence.”

You get a collective grunt from the three siblings, all of them in a similar state of focus. Roman’s sat on the sofa, eyes trained solely on you rather than the presentation. When you catch his gaze, he gives you a nervous smile. You smile back.

“What I think we should do is start building a case against Logan. But we bait him with this fraud to get a stronger case,” you say. “We’re pulling things together. I can see us having an airtight case before the years up.” You pause. “We just, uh, need to finalize the entire… CEO thing.”

The more time you’d spent with the Roys, the more they got along less. With Logan thrown out of the company, ownership, control of the company was up for grabs. Each of the three of them though that they were the right choice. What you saw in Norway, what you saw when you first met Roman, was slowly self destructing.

You’re worried it won’t go back to the way it was before.

The siblings’ banter, their underlying love for one another. You’re not going to hear it again for a while.

The general consensus is that you are to start building a criminal case against Logan Roy. You have to tell yourself that if you fail, on the off chance that this case crumbles under pressure in court, that the rest of your life will with it. Losing to Logan Roy, at anything, has grace consequences. And in this instance? Your career will suffer the most.

Roman’s trying to figure out how to completely disconnect your laptop from the television when Gerri approaches you. You both offer each other soft smiles. You were similar, after all, and although lawyers didn’t get along most of the time, you got the feeling that you’d both give each other grace.

“It’s nice to meet you informally,” she tells you, offering her hand for you to shake. Her grip is firm, it doesn’t falter. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it out to Norway.”

“You didn’t miss much. It was a lot of peacocking, if I’m honest.”

Her voice drops so that only you can hear, even though everyone else is involved in their own business, nowhere near. “There’s a power struggle here. Neither of us are stupid.”

You gather your composure. Maybe this wasn’t the wholesome interaction you’d hoped it’d be. Oh, how you wish strategy would leave you alone. “Mm.”

“And I think, with our lack of familial ties, lack of allegiance, we’re in quite the position to just… make things go our way.”

Your eyes flit about the space around the two of you. Still, nobody’s within earshot. “And what’s our way?”

“The one where we benefit most.” Her gaze shifts from you to Roman, still sat on the couch, your laptop finally disconnected from the TV. As if he can feel your eyes boring into him, he looks up, catching you and Gerri staring. “The one where we have the most control.”

“Since when are you and Gerri all buddy buddy?” he asks the minute you step out of Shiv’s apartment. The bone-chilling January air smacks you in the face, blowing back your hair as you glance at him in the dark.

“We’re not. I met her today.” You simultaneously reach for each other’s hands, curling your fingers together.

“What’d she say?” he asks, voice just barely cracking. He brings his free hand to your intertwined ones, rubbing over the back of your hand in an attempt to warm it.

You don’t answer until you’re both in the car a few moments later, you sitting behind the wheel. “She made an interesting proposition about the entire… succession thing.”

He buckles his seat belt, not taking his eyes off you. “Yeah?”

“That her and I back you so that we have the power when you’re CEO.”

You tear your gaze from his, backing out of the apartment complex’s parking lot and pulling out onto the street. He says nothing for a bit, turning things over in his head.

“I mean, I wouldn’t really be against that,” he says carefully, failing to sound convincing. “I wouldn’t like it, but I mean, CEO, and the two smartest people I know pulling the strings so I don’t fuck up…”

“You’d be fine with that? You wouldn’t want, I don’t know, free will?”

“Well, it’s you and Gerri. Sure, you’ve both had your cold and calculating bullshit, but neither of you are capable of rendering me completely useless.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, glancing at him when you stop at a red light.

He shrugs. “Just that you’re physically incapable of slighting me, because, you know”- he gestures at himself, taking your hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel and planting a kiss on the back of it -“and Gerri doesn’t even have it in her.”

You roll your eyes. “I mean, I could, but I won’t,” you say, teasing. He keeps your hand in his as you drive, night time New York lights blurring by.

“Would you do it, though?” he asks quietly. “Do you think I could do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Am I… am I capable?” You can tell he’s still looking at you, but your eyes are in the road.

“Of course you’re capable,” you say immediately. “But it sounds like you don’t really… want it.”

“I mean, I want it. I want more for myself. I just… don’t really want Waystar. I want more than just fucking around in my stupid fucking office and having… having no substance.” The car’s in the parking garage of your own apartment now, but neither of you make a move to get out. He’s looking straight ahead of him, eyes slightly glazed over. It’s an expression you’ve never seen on him before. He looks troubled, like he’s actually at war with something in his head. “I mean, I feel like a week ago I would’ve strangled you for it. Now, I think about it, and it’s so… so boring.”

Your hands are still wrapped around each other, so you begin stroking small circles into his skin with your thumb. “Boring?”

“Unfulfilling. Dull. Like, what, I make billions of dollars every year for the rest of my life, doing absolutely nothing to earn it, and then I just die? What kind of life is that?”

You turn so that you can face him. “I didn’t know that was on your mind.”

Roman gives a mirthless laugh, bringing your hand to his shoulder. Vaguely aware of what he wants, you rub absently. “I didn’t, either. I don’t know.” His fingers trace over the back of your hand, still staring out the windshield rather than holding your gaze. “You make me feel all of these new things. I’m thinking about so much more, now that I’m taking you seriously.”

“You weren’t taking me serious before?” you ask playfully, trying to lighten the mood. You lean over the center console, using your hand on his shoulder to keep you steady, pressing a hot kiss to his jaw. “In the end, don’t do anything you don’t want to. Life’s not worth it if you’re not happy.”

You step out of the car, and Roman’s not far behind you. “You know,” he begins once you’re both safely inside the apartment, “I have no idea what we’re supposed to do.”

His coat gets tossed into the hallway closet, yours not far behind after he coaxes it off of you. “We’ll just do what we can.”

“You’re not very reassuring,” he mutters, shutting the closet door and pushing past you into the kitchen. You follow, reaching for his shoulders from behind him once he stops at the kitchen counter. He drops his face into his hands, somehow both tensing and relaxing at your touch.

“Roman.” Your thumbs glide over his shoulder blades, and he doesn’t respond. “What’s the actual problem here? We can talk. I’m here for you.”

“He’s my dad, Y/N. In the end he’s still my dad.” You gently knead his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. He still doesn’t turn to face you. “Which is why it hurts so fuckin’ bad.”

“Tell me what hurts, Roman. We’ll fix it, I’ll fix it.”

“I want… I want him to love me like I love him. But I know-” he chokes on his words, and you realize he’s crying. You falter for barely a moment when he abruptly turns and buries his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your back. You feel his tears trickling onto your collarbone, and you feel a twisting in your chest. You cradle the back of his head with one of your hands, the other going to the small of his back. “But I know it’ll never happen.” His grip tightens on you before he continues. “Yeah, that shit with you, and Gerri, and CEO… it sounds so fucking good, but Y/N, when I fucking dreamed of it, the only reason it ever mattered was that it was him. He wanted me there, he thought I was the best. But it was all just a dream, anyway. It doesn’t fucking matter if that’s not how it goes.”

He sobs into your shoulder, and you don’t move. You keep holding him. You’ll hold him until he lets go. You hope he doesn’t.

“We’ll figure something else out, then. It’s okay, Roman, it’s okay.” You press a tentative kiss to the side of his head. “You’re getting yourself worked up. We can talk about this later, yeah?” He pulls away to look at you, waterline still glistening. You cup his face with your hands, thumbing away the stray tears on his cheeks and under his eyes. “Wanna watch that show I was talking about the other day? Make you feel better, take your mind off things?”

He takes a deep, controlling breath, calming himself. “I know a better way we can get me to feel good,” he murmurs, not wasting any more time, taking you by the jaw and pulling your mouth to his. If your first few kisses were careful, arguably sweet, this one was reckless. Roman kisses you without abandon, mushing your lips against his. For the first time, he’s needy, he’s greedy, he’s fucking desperate. Messily, he’d turned the two of you so that your back was to the counter. “Up,” he utters, mouth barely leaving yours. He reaches behind you, barely gesturing at the counter top.

Vaguely, you register, and you brace your hands on his chest and jump, managing to land where he wants you. The counter isn’t that high up- it wasn’t a struggle. Immediately, he’s pressed up against you, hands sliding down your legs to loop them around the part of his torso they are dangling by. While your hands go to cup his face, his slide back up your clothing to settle on your hips.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. The only thing you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears and the soft noises of your lips on his. You pepper kisses onto his lips, and he makes quiet, contented noises. He’s completely relaxed. He’s letting you do whatever the fuck you want.

“Feeling better?” you ask into his mouth before kissing him again, long and deep, fingers digging deeper into his skin.

He groans in response, the vibration against your lips spine-tingling. “So much fucking better.” He pulls his mouth from yours, to your disappointment, and the both of you are panting, vying for air. He doesn’t pull away entirely, instead leaning back in to dot kisses to the corners of your mouth, then down your chin, down your neck. “You look fucking gorgeous from this angle. A fucking goddess among men.”

☾𖤓

When the morning arrives, the two of you are tangled together, your head nestled into his chest, his head atop yours. His arms are wound tightly around you, keeping you flush against him in a refusal to let go. When you wake up, all you can smell is the faint scent of his aftershave from the night before. You never want this to end.

You don’t open your eyes, trying to get even closer to him. You barely rub your cheek against his chest in an attempt to burrow into him. Roman murmurs softly in his sleep, shifting, bringing you with him and pressing his nose into your neck.

His breath fans over your skin, deliciously warm, sweetly soothing. You bring your hand to his cheek, gently stroking, admiring his peace-laden face.

You spend the next half hour like this, just looking at him, reflecting.

Your fiancé. Your Roman.

You’d never expect, in a million years, that this would be how you ended up. You let your fingers trace calming patterns into the crook of his jaw, and he’s practically purring. You savor these fleeting moments, this peace.

It’s like a dream. Everything is in slow motion, and you can feel everything before it happens. You know you’re going to fall for him. You’re going to fall so fucking hard. You’ll scrape your face on the pavement, skid your knees, bleed for him.

Also like a dream is the looming sense of doom. The feeling that you’re grasping at straws, waiting for everything to suddenly slip away. Because you know it will. You know, whatever path you take, it intersects with Logan Roy’s, and there’s quite the conflict in the distance.

Roman grunts from under you, shifting so that you’re laying on the bed rather than him. “Fuckin’ tryna kill me,” he mumbles into your neck. Despite his words, you can feel him smiling into your skin.

“I want all that money of yours,” you tease back, letting him drape an arm over your torso, readjusting so that his face is buried in your chest.

“Mm, don’t act like you don’t already own everything that I do,” he says, sleep still playing with his voice. “God, you could tell me you wanted to live in the White House and I’d blow all my money renting it out for you.”

You laugh airily, and before you know it, you’re both up and about, getting ready for work.

“I forgot to tell you,” he calls from across the apartment, him in the kitchen, you digging around in your closet. “The shareholder thing. Looks like Dad’s trying to rally the troops. He has all the old-timers questioning everything Ken does.”

“Anything from Marcia?” you shout back, finding the outfit you were hunting for.

“She agreed to meet at the firm. Also, I heard from that pompous piece of googly-eyed garbage that Connor’s already had a lawsuit processed. He goes to court in a month or something.”

You stroll out into the living room, watching Roman muck about the kitchen, making breakfast. It smells good, at least, and you can tell he’s melting cheese over eggs while he scrambles them. “Are you talking about Pierce, or Greg?”

“Pierce. I don’t think Greg is that bad…”

You snort, rounding the counter to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Whatever you say.” He turns to briefly smack a kiss onto your cheek in return before getting back to his eggs. "Hopefully your daddy makes a scene.”

“Never refer to him like that again.”

At the firm, you decide that you’re going to pretend to keep working on Connor’s case. You’re itching for shit to hit the fan, to see Logan step in. As far as you know, everything is in place, and you’re getting closer to catching him red handed.

On your office phone’s intercom, your assistant buzzes to get your attention. “Siobhan is here.”

“Send her in, Cherry, thank you!”

When Shiv’s sat across from you, dressed in a power suit, she’s distracted. “I didn’t know you employed solely pretty people.” She gestures at you, then looks back at Cherry’s desk.

You laugh. “I do my best.” You absentmindedly click a pen, turning some thoughts over in your head. “So how are we going to play this?”

Shiv relaxes a bit in her seat, regarding you carefully. “I say we go for the jugular. There’s no reason to go easy.”

You lift a shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s your call.”

Another buzz. “She’s here.”

“Put her in Conference Room C. Love you lots, Cherry.”

Shiv flushes slightly. “Her name is Cherry?”

You shoo her out of her office before she can continue the conversation, and the two of you make your way down the hall. You see her through the glass before you get to the conference room. Marcia sits, hands folded primly in her lap, lips pressed into a thin line. You sit yourself in the chair directly across from her, Shiv following, settling in beside you. She wears a steely expression, her face devoid of emotion.

“Is it really so bad, just telling Dad you don’t want him anymore?” she asks Marcia, leaning back into her chair.

“That is not the topic of today’s conversation,” Marcia manages back, tone icy.

“Before we get to that,” you tell her, “you’re going to have to swear a few oaths. You’re Catholic, aren’t you, Mrs. Roy?”

She nods, hesitant. You reach under the conference table, where a small storage container is attached, and pull out a Bible. You stand, round the table, and make her set her hand on the holy book.

You swear her in, and you’re back in your seat next to Shiv. You fiddle with your pen, as does Shiv with hers. Your notepads are set before you both, at the ready to take notes.

“Just so you remember,” Shiv drawls, “if we find out anything you say here is untrue, you’re in deep shit.”

“Let’s start out easy, light.” You cross your ankles over each other, keeping your eyes on Marcia. “How long have you and your… new friend been seeing each other?”

She sighs, lips pursed. “A little over a year now.”

Shiv’s lips press together, keeping whatever comment she had lined up to herself. Instead, she asks, “What are you aware of, if anything, that my father has done that isn’t… to your taste?”

Marcia takes a moment to respond. “Bribes. Threats. What’s new?”

“You’re going to need to be a bit more specific,” Shiv replies quickly, pen poised over paper.

“Well,” Marcia says, drawing the word out, “he’s had private meetings. With investors, with accountants, with employees. He always has something to hold over them. There is always some hidden record, some bastard child, to bring them to him.”

“And if we were to ask you to remember who some of these people were, would you be able to come up with names?” you ask carefully, glancing down at your empty notepad then back up at Marcia.

“Yes, I’m sure I could.”

You and Shiv both jot things down.

Shiv opens her mouth to continue, but Marcia beats her to it. “There is something important you should know.”

“By all means,” you say, trying to be encouraging.

“I have come to know your first case quite well,” she tells you, averting her gaze. “It is a shame, what happened to you.” You and Shiv exchange a glance. “But despite all of the theatrics my husband enjoys, what he’s presented to you still is not the full truth.” She takes a moment, formulating her next sentences. “It was not Connor committing the fraud. It was Logan. He manufactured evidence, he framed his son, and I… I’m fairly sure the poor boy thinks he committed the crime.”

The room is dead silent for what seems like ages. You don’t know where to look. Your eyes flit from Marcia, who seems to be contemplating something in her head, to Shiv, who looks just as confused, just as off put as you do.

Marcia seems to decide something, then continues speaking. “I have had enough of the drama. I will testify in court against my husband if you help me turn our relationship into a thing of the past.”

You throw Shiv a triumphant look before turning back to Marcia.

“That sounds like quite the respectable deal.”

[senselessviolets]

"Don't wanna be alone."

Roman Roy x Fem!Original Character

Rated T (Angst/Feels, Drabble)

Word Count: 1.6k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

Cursing, canon typical humor, descriptions & themes involving PTSD/depression. Roman is kind of a dick.

Author's Notes:

Heavily inspired by "Calling U Back" by The Marías. I realized there was some unintentional overlap between this fic and the headcanons about being Rome's assistant that I made so shared universe I guess? /s

Set during Caroline's Wedding in Italy at the end of season 3.

Summary: After a business trip in Turkey ended with her and her boss being held hostage, personal assistant Maxine Lee has some big questions to ask herself; why has he now gone cold on her? Will they be able to work through these unresolved feelings? And most important of all---is the paycheck really worth it?

I could feel two hazel beams searing into my back as I stood across the party from him. There was nothing that stated in the e-vite he forwarded me that I was to be his armpiece for Italy. And yet, Roman’s unshakeable gaze nearly had me feeling guilty or at the very least—unresolved. I knew jetsetting was going to be a part of the job and my brief stint in PR for the luxury fashion label ALMEN had gotten me well acquainted with travel of the sort. Instead of preparing statements for reporters about the brand’s upcoming collection for the spring-summer season; I was having to be a pincushion for the World’s Wealthiest Brat/Fuckboy.

It was a rather impromptu thing in the beginning. My father had gone to Wharton with Waystar’s CFO Karl Mueller and according to him; they “go way back.” Funny how Karl’s name had never once come up until his youngest daughter needed a cushy job in the city. All because someone (me) had to bite off a little more than they could chew. 

“It’s, uh, nice that you stuck around even after the whole Turkey…thing,” Cousin Greg emphasizes, using his hands.

The briefest mention of Turkey had my stomach doing flips. I didn’t speak to Roman for weeks after. Beyond the now bi-weekly video calls with my therapist; I became something of a recluse. I didn’t dare to leave my apartment. The meals I did remember to have were left at my doorstep. I convinced myself this leave of absence was helping me cope and all it was doing was prolonging the inevitable. Sooner or later, I was going to have to face him even though the last time he would’ve seen me, my face was hot and wet with tears. Tears I’d done everything to keep from spilling over.

There was just so much uncertainty at that moment. Being the lone female companion on that trip left me more vulnerable. In ways that Roman, Karl, or Laird weren’t or would ever think about. Beyond that, I was the most objectively expendable member of the group. I wasn’t a big-name banker like Laird, much less a high-level exec like Karl. If I were them, I would without a doubt choose me first to get thrown overboard if it came down to it. 

I wouldn’t fucking think twice about it, in fact.

But Roman, as powerless as even he was at that moment, did everything he could to assure me that wouldn’t be the case no matter what. He was sweet. Why’d he have to be so fucking sweet? There were a couple of nights I’d spent awake in bed, eyes trained on the dark ceiling above me asking myself that same question over and over again until I either drifted off to sleep or the ache in my heart dissipated. Usually, it was the first one.

“It’ll…um…no, d-don’t…don’t cry. Please. You’re gonna be okay, w-we’re gonna be okay actually. Yeah. I mean, w-we got Laird. He’s like a fucking behemoth. And I know he sorta…got pulled away but we do have Dave. Dude is jacked. Y’know Colin? My dad’s security? Dave’s that but not as scary. We’d be covered. We a-are covered. We got you, Max. I got…,” he assured, almost rhythmically, “...I’m gonna…make sure you stay okay, okay?”

Was it incredibly verbose and clumsy? Yes. 

Did it make me feel any better in that moment? Somewhat. 

It was something to hold onto when there wasn’t anything else; it was something. I remember feeling weak and sick. All these powerful men occupying various corners of this decadent hotel lobby and here I am; a little girl dabbing snot into her sweater sleeve like I was eight years old again, legs criss-crossed in the church pews during my mom’s funeral service. Being utterly alone had been the bane of my existence for some time. Not just simply being by myself as I actually preferred that a lot of the time. Some mindless Netflix binge and takeout was enough most nights. “Utterly alone” to me meant being nothing in the eyes of the people around you. An organism, a space-filler—being interminably interchangeable. Roman had done what he could to assure me I was the opposite at my most terrified.

Though I didn’t owe him anything and I was on his payroll and a result, had received the fruits of my labor—I felt innately that I was indebted to him. An entire year later I had still yet to rid myself of this feeling. There was a heaviness to it. It usually occupied any prolonged gaps of silence in between our conversations. It was tangible to me but I often wondered if it was for him too. 

I figured it was; otherwise, he might not be as much of a hellish prick as he had been to me lately. He’d spontaneously request revised versions of the business plans he’d drafted. Late into the night, he’d call me, harshly demanding I send over the revisions. At a certain point, I realized he wasn’t even checking to see if I had sent them or not. Like he just needed somebody to bitch out for the hell of it. I remember when I shrewdly accused him of doing so during one of his random calls, this one occurring around 2 AM.

“Do you even read my fucking notes? I feel like you don’t otherwise I wouldn’t be fuckin’ calling you at odd hours of the night to remind you to do your fuckin’ job.” he chastises, in a voice that’s made gravelly due to the phone and fatigue. 

I was calling from my bed, propped upright by some pillows with my bedside lamp turned on. Likewise, I could tell Roman was sprawled out on his mattress due to the shifting of the bedsheets the mic picked up. The sound of sleep was always palpable in his voice. 

“Well, if you bothered checking if I’d sent them over before calling to bitch me out for not sending them at all; it could save us both the fucking headache, yeah?”

“...lookit you, being all big-bad-bitch out of nowhere. Was wondering when I was gonna bring that outta you. I’m legit so proud of you right now, Max. Keep killing it, Kween!” Roman taunts, “Makes you wonder where this Max was when we were living it up in Turkey way back. Okay, okay, if you can admit right now that the only reason you were putting on the waterworks then was that you were weeping over the possibility of losing your meal ticket…I’ll leave you alone. Promise.”

What kind of twisted ultimatum was that? 

Unfortunately, my throat becomes too dry all of a sudden and I’m unable to question what possessed him to ask such a fucked up thing this late at night. Instead, I’m only able to bid him a choked-up farewell and hang up. 

“...I-I’ll send you my next round of revisions soon. I appreciate the follow-up call. Thank you, Roman. Have a good night.”

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Roman could be incredibly cruel with his words when presented with the opportunity to be. I’d had a litany of expletives hurled at me over the most minor of mistakes. That’s not even including the constant sexual innuendo but even he had the common sense not to push things too far with that. For all of his kindness; there was always an edge. Gestures of appreciation were undercut with sarcastic comments and name-calling. “Thank you” was most commonly followed by a well-timed “fuck you” or “fuck off” if he wanted to evoke his father’s bitterness.

  This was by all means the norm.

But that’s why Turkey had been so different. That’s why it had been sitting in my craw so strangely these twelve-odd months. Sure, he had been trying to keep things light-hearted and get a smile, better yet a laugh, out of me since things were so dire. However, there was no “edge” to be found. No rug to be pulled out from under me and him to snicker at. 

Cliche sure, but I could just feel the difference. 

I could feel him trying to make a genuine connection which I’d come to surmise was typically quite difficult for him. Then again that seemed to be the case with most who shared his status; especially his siblings. His little-spoken-of partner Tabitha was evidence of this failure to connect. As were his handful of Raya dates that ‘never panned out’. 

He was my boss. I was his first-ever assistant; meant to ‘help him acclimate to the increased levels of responsibility he hoped to gradually take on.’ At least that was how Ms. Kellman further described the position in my follow-up interview. While having Waystar’s General Legal Counsel conduct my second job interview was beyond intimidating, I was under the impression she was attempting to mentor him. Clearly, the two had history and that was none of my concern. Though I’d be lying if I’d said I hadn’t thought about asking her what his deal was. If he’d ever been the way he was at the hotel in Turkey to her. Maybe he had. 

Or maybe she wouldn’t know a serious, genuine Roman if he was looking her dead in the eyes. 

He was a confounding person who contradicted himself all too often. It made him impossible to decipher sometimes and intolerable to be around other times. And yet, I was stuck making the same mistake I suspected many individuals that came before me had too made; trying to make sense of this person named Roman Roy while at my core hoping that maybe he’d break through and be better. 

If not for me or his would-be-girlfriend or his deeply flawed family—at the very least for himself. Because regardless of all he’d said or all he’d done, it’s what he deserved.

End.

{ Feedback is always welcome! Let me know if you want to see a follow-up to this! <3 }

[hageny]

Succession Thoughts: Gerri x Roman 

1. Forsaken.

I’ve finally gotten around to writing my final Succession Thoughts post. I thought it was to take some time to ruminate on the finale, even if that meant putting the post out later and potentially reaching a smaller audience after the high of the final season had worn off. A lot of the chatter on social media surrounding this ending scene was interesting to me. Many people interpreted Roman’s drinking of the martini, and his smile at the end, as a sign of possible hopefulness regarding his relationship with Gerri. A possibility of things in the future. A chance to call, to reach out and start over. I disagree. The final, seconds long glimpse of his face after his smile fades tells the truth, the real truth in their relationship that people are wanting to ignore which is that it is over, and he knows this. I wrote last season about the basic problem between them being that Roman comes from a place of authenticity in his interactions with Gerri (however flawed his efforts may be), while Gerri is more calculating and always willing to look out for number one. The end to their liaison proves as much. Roman made a good number of mistakes on his part, and contributed as much to the downfall as she did, no doubt, but the real crux and the torment between them is that Gerri is wired to look out for herself no matter what, and discard what she no longer needs. She discarded Laurie once he’d served his purpose, likely discarded Martyn too (who she seemingly only brought to the wedding to make Roman jealous), and, finally, set Roman aside once she was done with the company and didn’t need him anymore. I’ve touched on this quality in her personality numerous times over the course of the show’s run, and in the end, that part dominates her so deeply that she is unable to really form any lasting connections. While Roman is looking for a place to feel safe, to be nurtured, for someone to help him grow, Gerri looks at people for what they can do for her, for their usefulness to her. This is not to say she did not genuinely have feelings for Roman. I believe she did. But this is to say that, in the war against the self, what is inherent to a person will always win out, whatever quality that is. One can try to find better qualities, different qualities, other aspects, but who a person is deep down inside will always lead to the inevitable outcome at the end of the day. And so it did with Gerri. All of Roman’s attempts to nurture something better in her, to connect to her, to bring out something softer worked for a while, but ultimately her cold nature won out and things ended as they always would. And really, the signs were there from the beginning for those willing to see them. While Roman, by the end of the show, seemed to grow and change into someone different, someone who realized the family company served him no greater purpose and was subsequently able to move forward, Gerri remained...well, herself. She’ll go on to do the same thing as before somewhere else while Roman gets to forge a new path, equipped with the lessons he learned from her and from making his mistakes. This is the real tragedy inherent in their relationship, in my opinion. They are two people from the same world, with similar beliefs, similar backgrounds and values, and yet, they are destined not to remain together because internally they are too different. That’s the real tragedy of this show--it’s not the overall occurrences that make things so painful, it’s the tragedy of the self and what, inherently, we are unable to overcome.

2. Mother Monster.

I don’t often touch on other relationships in these posts, but I must say that seeing Tom take over Waystar was so satisfying to me. What fascinated me was the amount of people who were either surprised Shiv would screw her siblings over, or tried to convince themselves that her choice was due to “misogyny”. Everyone’s entitled to their opinion, but in my view, both of these are wrong. Shiv, to put it simply, screwed her brothers over because this is who she is at her core. This is who she has always been. She looks out for herself at the expense of others, and at the end of the day, her narcissism caught up to her. She ended up like the mother she despised--stuck in a marriage to a man she has no love for and set to become a mother to a child she is not interested in. Tom, for his part, ended up at the top because, really, after having been saddled with so much suffering, there was no other way to go but up. He was a black sheep in a family of wolves and he learned how to play their game better than his wife, and won as a result. Shiv’s choices have to do with who she is at her core, which is revealed during her fight with Tom in Tailgate Party. The irony of their fight--which begins about her starting the rumor that he will get fired--need not even be touched on. When she says to him, “You’re servile [...] you don’t deserve me, and you never did” she’s essentially echoing what her father told her in season one, which was that she was marrying a man below her station because she could control him. Sadly for her, her self-serving ways caught up to her and now she is victim to the fate she deserves--wife to someone with more influence and power than she will ever likely have again. For all her torturing and disdain for Tom, she ended up in the position she wanted him in, and that is immensely satisfying. 

AN: A huge thank you to all who have read these posts over the time I’ve been writing them. It’s been so satisfying to be able to interact with other fans who enjoy the same thing I do, and to contribute--in some small way--to the ever-evolving discussion surrounding the show. If I see anything interesting regarding Roman and Gerri floating around on the internet, I’ll post it here. As unfortunate as it was that the show ended--even though I believe it ended at the right time--the real loss for me will be the community I managed to find here, and the exchanges I had with others along the way. My inbox is always open for those wanting to chat some more, I welcome any messages, and I can’t wait to hear what you all thought about the finale. Thank you again, it’s been an immensely gratifying journey.