#shiv x reader

[princesssmars]

i love your shiv nsfw fic!!! you're so good at writing them, could you write another shiv roy x female reader smut fic? it's so hard finding them these days

no strings

a shiv roy x reader.

your time studying abroad is nearly over, and you luck out with a job working for a luxury boating service. this summer the billionaire roy family is vacationing, and the youngest daughter gives you an exciting proposal.

wc : 1.391

contains : fluff. semi angst. smut. talks of fxfxm threesome. exhibitionism : tom watches you and shiv go at it. oral and penetrative sex (receiving).

a/n : anon why did i literally have a dream with tom and shiv the night you sent this...and you are so right why is the shiv tag so dead omg i came a year after the show ended thinking i’d be fed 💔 also thanks for saying i’m good every time i write smut i laugh bc i’m a big baby.

when you signed up for a summer job, you sure as hell weren't expecting this.

at least you had the excuse of this not being a very croatian or italian custom. coming here to study was something you did on a whim, and wouldnt be the first time you made a crazy decision just because, you still had flashbacks to the time you skinny dipped with people who you had just met at a bar an hour earlier.

thankfully over the years your exploring ways had toned down to a reasonable amount. after all, you couldnt be a luxury stewardess who was always getting in to trouble. the clients did insane background checks, seriously, one old bastard asked what it was like going to such an average kindergarten.

but for now, it was fine. it paid well, you only had to serve rich pricks for a few days at a time, and it was helping pay off your student loans. plus if you bat your eyes at the right people you got a considerable tip.

your coworker and friend, petra, suggested you do a little more for some extra money, but you shrugged it off with a laugh each time. the last thing you wanted was to have some crazy millionaire getting too attached to you and causing trouble in your normal life.

but your final semester has ended, you’ve made plans to move back home to jersey at the end of the summer, and that only leaves you with a few more jobs until you’re done with this job. you tried, you really really tried to keep your wits about you, but one of the clients is contacting you before the family lands to the boat with an offer.

a threesome. with her and her husband. no strings attached.

the service you worked for normally declined telling you the names of who your team will be working for, even going as far as to lock your phones on the boats to make sure you weren’t posting them during their private time.

but even you, now living halfway across the world, knew about this family. the roys, owners of one of the biggest media conglomerates of the past era. it was hard not to see reports in the morning from atn news, or the insane amount of advertising you’d see about their international mediterranean cruises.

(well, after their recent scandal about sexual misconduct in the fucking senate, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be seeing too many ads anymore.)

you were sure it was the daughter of the family calling you, recognizing her voice over the phone and being confirmed when she met up with you before she got on the boat. she was gorgeous and a little scary, enjoying the scent of her perfume when she slides the nda over to you to sign.

it was exciting, working on the boat and seeing her eyes occasionally trailing your figure. maybe it would’ve been more enticing if every time her husband looked at you he didn’t look like one of those hanging cat posters. shame, he was cute.

you’re cleaning up one of the tables after the family had eaten a crazy short dinner. you’re still reeling after witnessing how dysfunctional these people were when your phone buzzes on your pocket, courtesy of shiv pulling a few strings. the text from her is just her cabin number and a time that’s ten minutes ahead. short and to the point.

when you knock on the door you can hear a conversation on the other side come to halt, fast footsteps coming to the door before yanking it open. you’d seen her earlier in the day but got did shiv look gorgeous, ginger hair framing her face as the soft lighting of the room illuminated her bare shoulders.

she’s smiling at you, all sickly sweet as she leads you into the room before locking the door behind you, telling you to just sit on the bed. the bed is large and soft, and your mind wanders about how these people can have whole hotel rooms on the ocean and still be so unhappy when a throat clearing knocks you out of your thoughts, the husband sitting in a chair across the bed to your left. he gives a little smile and a wave and you do it back.

“this is tom. he’s just gonna watch us for a while, ok?” she checks in with you, crossing her legs as she sits next to you, softly moving your hair behind your shoulder. you nod. “good. tel us if you don’t like something.”

you try to nod again but her palm is on your cheek and bringing your face to hers, soft lips kissing you like she’s starving. her tounge is in your mouth, and when you try to move your body to sit on her lap she’s pushing you back, resting your back on the bed. you can faintly hear the fabric of tom’s clothes as he moves on his seat.

she urges your pants down your legs, barely waiting for you to kick off your shoes before she’s rubbing you through your panties, biting and nipping at the skin of your neck as you left out small moans into the air.

“sure you don’t wanna touch her, tom? she’s so soft, so pretty.” she licks a line up your throat and to your mouth, swallowing your moan in her mouth. her husband doesn’t reply and you don’t dwell on it for long. you’ve heard of exhibitionists before, looks like her husband is one of them.

you bite her bottom lip and revel in the groan you feel in her mouth and chest, your own muffled noise escaping when she stuffs a finger inside you. she’s using her thumb to rub at your clip while she thrusts, pulling away from the kiss to look at your face.

it feels good but it’s not enough, which you make clear when you beg her under your breath to give you more of anything. thankfully she doesn’t seem to be in a teasing mood, not thanking any time to push her second finger inside of you.

“oh, fuck-“ your leg kicks out and you fist the sheets as you focus on the pleasure. it’s clear she’s done this before, skilled in the way she hits your g spot at just the right angle and rubs your clit. her head turns to likely look at her husband, while yours flops on the bedsheets.

you’re so distracted you don’t notice them having a small chat, mind on cloud nine. you do notice when she dips her head to kiss your chest that’s exposed after she unbuttoned your shirt, then dips lower, and lower, and lower-

when you feel her mouth circle your clit in your mouth you let out an airy moan, feeling the ball in the pit of your stomach grow. she eats you out just like she kisses you, sloppier than you expected for someone that’s looks as polished as she does. her hands are squishing the fat of your thighs, and when she shakes her head from side to side in your pussy you cum, trying to soundproof your moans into your arms as the other clutches at her head.

she helps ease you down from your high, placing kisses on your clit and your thighs and even cleaning you up with her mouth as you let out fast shaky breaths. you’re given maybe a few minutes of relaxation before she’s tugging your pants back up, buttoning up your shirt before giving a quick pat to the top of your thigh.

“that was fun, huh?”

you laugh, nodding your head since you can’t find the words. you push yourself up on your arms, staring up at the woman above you as she smiles down at you. your eyes drift to her husband who’s still sitting on the armchair, face flushed and taking in quick breaths like he’s the one who just got fucked instead of you.

“yeah, yeah it was fun.”

you collect yourself, fixing up your hair in the mirror on the wall as shiv leads you to the door.

“saw in your file you’re from jersey. maybe we’ll call you sometime once all this shit blows over, yeah?”

this summer couldn’t end fast enough.

[ivystoryweaver]

Day 19: Can You Forgive Me? (Shiv)

Angstember Prompt Post || Word count: 150. Sad as hell.

“They came here with guns, Shiv. They threatened our son!” You whimper, tears streaming down your face.

His earthen eyes fill with terror as his throat bobs. “I-I only have til midnight.” He takes your arms and kisses your cheek. “Might not see you again.”

“Don’t say that,” you cry. “You can figure something out. You always do.”

You can tell he’s at a loss.

“I’m so sorry I told them,” you whisper, desperately clinging to him. Pushing errant dark strands from his eyes, you urgently press your mouth to his. “Can you forgive me?”

He eyes you longingly, wishing he could fix all that’s gone wrong between you. Hoping that he can find the money he needs to pay his debt before the deadline that will end his life.

“Of course I do.” He kisses you fiercely, tears shining in his eyes. “Do not let our son forget me.”

Angstember Masterlist || Misc. Masterlist || Main Masterlist

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Blessed With Lucky Sevens

Shiv x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 14: Begging

Summary: Shiv's in trouble.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for beating and saving me as always! Again this one became not smut.

Warnings: guns, blood, death, disposing of a body, declarations of love, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1108

The gun presses further into Shiv’s temple. “Please, please.” He knows he’s begging for his life, but the substance of it, the tangible essence of the plea has long since escaped him. Lost in the torrent of fear that is paralysing his mind. 

The cold concrete bites into his knees. 

“Please.”

Ivanov snorts and presses the gun harder, forcing Shiv to bend his neck. “You beg so quickly, fucking pathetic.” 

“Ivanov,” Shiv swallows, trying to formulate something, anything that would get him out of his. Give him a chance. 

Ivanov smacks him hard around the face with the handle of the gun.

Shiv’s mind sings, fizzles under the sudden pain and pressure. For a second he thinks he’s going to pass out, or throw up. Or both. 

Ivanov spits in his face, the salvia splashes up his cheek. “You think you can fucking say my name?” 

Shiv swallows, eyes closed and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” Warmth from his temple runs down his face. 

“Sorry?” Ivanov huffs, “You think that’s fucking good enough for a piece of shit like you? You think that-”

The gunshot explodes, shattering everything. Shiv gasps, his hands automatically covering his ears as he falls to the ground. He’s sure he’s been shot. Sure he’s dead. 

But the concrete’s cold. And despite the thudding pain in his head from the smack, and the thump from falling (plus the few good punches Ivanov had got in earlier) there’s nothing. No extra pain. 

Maybe the bullet had struck his head, shock removing the sensation as he slowly died. 

He breathed deeply, counting. One… two… three… still here. 

Shiv opens his eyes slowly. 

Ivanov’s open eyes stare back. Lifeless. The top of his head is missing. Blown out by a rifle shot. 

He’s going to be sick. 

It’s not the first time he’s seen a dead body. But it’s all too much. The brains on the floor. How close he was to death. Is to. Whoever fired that shot is still out there. 

He scrambles back, as far away from the body as he can, away from the seeping blood despite the spatter that is already covering him. 

He needs to get to cover, get out of Ivanov’s fucking car headlights at least.

It’s the dead of night, a sideroad in the middle of nowhere that’s hardly fucking used. Thick dense forest to the side. 

Despite the headlights, the stars are the only source of light, the moon not yet risen. He could try to hide in the forest, but he’s with it enough to know he wouldn’t last until morning. Exposure would get him long before daybreak. 

He could grab the gun in Ivanov’s hand, check his pockets for the car keys. But whoever shot that rifle is still out there, surely waiting for a clear shot to pick him off too. 

He does vomit then, the bile coming up all in a rush. He spits and wretches into the dirt. He needs to…

The sound of a car approaching, he can’t see it. Ivanov’s headlights are blinding everything despite how far back he’s moved, and whoever is coming doesn’t have theirs on. 

Shiv scrambles back further into the undergrowth. It had to be the shooter, come to finish the job, impatient to splatter his brains all over the ground. 

He doesn’t recognise the car that stops. 

Could he reach the gun? Shoot first? No. Stay. Hide. Hide. Don’t give away your position.

“Shiv?” 

He does recognise the voice instantly. Your voice. You. 

“Shiv?” You step out of the car when he doesn’t answer, there’s a handgun in your leather gloved hand. 

You look around, checking the body.

He calls your name weakly. 

Your eyes snap to the undergrowth. “Shiv? You okay? You hurt?” You rush over as he pulls himself back onto the little concrete instep. 

“Fuck,” you kneel down, holstering your weapon and touch his face gently just below the wound. It’s the softest caress and he just melts into it. Unable to do anything else.

“What are you doing here?” He asks weakly. “It’s dangerous.” He doesn’t want to cry, shouldn’t. But his voice is thick with it, his throat aches with the force of holding it back. 

“Shhh,” you look him over, checking for more damage. “Can you walk?” 

He nods. 

You help him to his feet and put him in the passenger seat of your car before you grab things from your boot. You return to him, wrap him in a thick blanket and then hold out two pills. 

The white of them seems to shine against your black glove.

“What are those?” He asks, his voice small.

“Pain killers, the good kind.” You say softly.

He takes them without asking more questions, drinking from the flask when you offer it. The hot chocolate inside surprises him, but it tastes glorious. 

You tuck him back up, putting the seatbelt on for him. “I won’t be long.” 

The medication starts to have an effect quickly, either that or just the situation in general. The sudden dip in adrenaline. He starts to drift off almost instantly. 

You walk over to what’s left of Ivanov, check his right coat pocket and wouldn’t you know, first time lucky. You find his car keys. 

You douse his corpse in the petrol from the can you have in your boot before you check his car. There’s nothing much of use in there, some drugs. About ₽250,000 in cash, you pocket that. 

It’s an easy matter to get in the driving seat and park the car over his body. You douse the vehicle in the rest of the petrol before you set it on fire. 

Shiv’s seemingly completely out of it when you get back to your car and pull out. 

You’ve been driving for about twenty minutes when he speaks. “I didn’t know.” 

“Hey, it’s alright.” You lightly touch his shoulder, comforting him. 

“I didn’t know,” he repeats, his voice thick and dreamy, “that you were such a good shot.” 

You smile a little at that. But it’s not a happy one. 

“I’m taking you to a friend’s, they’ll get you patched up.”

He breathes deeply, steadily for a few moments and you think he’s fallen back asleep. “Thank you.” 

You don’t reply, about to take your hand off his shoulder, but he reaches out from under the blanket, squeezes your fingers tight and he presses a kiss to your palm before he lets you go.

He’s practically unconscious when he speaks again, fighting through the thick veil of exhaustion to speak. “I love you, you know. I always have.”

You know. You love him too.

Thank you for reading!

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[blue-sadie]

The Slick Back

Shiv x Girlfriend Reader

Series Masterlist

Prt 3 of the Different Versions Series

Summary: waking up in a small apartment in Moscow it reminds you of something and someone

Warning: shower sex

Yn/3rd person pov

My eyes slowly blinked open as I stretched out a groan leaving my throat as I shifted uncomfortably, I slowly sat up my eyes shooting open as my bed creaked loudly underneath me.

I looked down at the bed my eyes softening as I saw the torn and beaten up mattress and the wrecked bed frame, my lips slightly quivered as I remembered when I use to live like this before steven helped.

He helped me so much, helping my life get in gear keeping me grounded as I worked my way up, my heart ached as I thought back to when we first met everything was so special was it my fault everything changed.

A few tears escaped my eyes rolling down my cheeks and I let them it was said to see everything we built fall apart "I miss you guys" I whispered and slightly wiped my tears away before moving to the edge of the bed letting my legs hang off of it.

My slight blurred vision moved over the room, it was small and looked run down, the room only had a small window covered by tattered curtains and a door that looked really busted, I slowly stood up and made my way through to the window to look out of it.

What I looked down upon was a bustling street with loads of people crowding it and only a few cars here and there, my brows frowned slightly as I wondered where I was "maybe it's for the better I don't know" I murmured and stepped back from the window letting the curtain fall back into place.

I wondered into the next room which was slightly bigger then the bedroom it was cramped as the living room and dining room and the kitchen was only separated by a half wall and to my left was a small bathroom.

Each room was covered in a thin layer of dust and there was laundry thrown all over the bathroom, I used to be just like this never having the motivation to clean or to look after myself properly I hummed to myself slightly as I moved to the kitchen cringing slightly.

The small counter space was covered in dirty plates and cups the small of something bad filled my nose "yea I can't live with that" I murmured and huffed as I went to work on cleaning this place up, I started with the dishes to clear the counters and bagged all the trash around the apartment.

After that I went to picking up laundry putting it into a sorted piles before moving onto cleaning the floors and surfaces and lastly sorting out the bed, I was to busy humming to myself to notice the marc look a like admiring me from the door way.

His eyes stared at your ass as you bent over flattening the sheets on the bed, he bit his lip and raised his hand bringing it hard down on your ass, you screamed turning around and out of reflex you punched him causing him to hiss in pain.

"Shit baby doll its me shiv" he yelled putting his arms up in a surrender before quickly moving to his face covering the reddening patch of his face, "oh shit" I squeaked covering my mouth as I looked at him.

His russian accent startled me but the slap is what made me punch him, my eyes looked at him drifting up and down his body, he looked good in a red leather jacket with slicked back hair he looked as he would be in one of those detective movies or apart of the mafia.

"You throw a good punch" he muttered rubbing his cheek gently, I pressed my lips together as I stepped to him raising my hand to his face, he flinched at first before leaning into my touch "I'm sorry" I murmured making him smile slightly and shake his head.

"I should've announced I was here" he said his hands settling on my hips drawing little circles on my hips "I'm glad to see you up and cleaning" he murmured pushing his head into my neck his nose tickling my skin.

He kissed my neck tenderly whispering sweet things to me as he pulled me in closer his hands hugging my waist "I wish I could stay here forever but I really need to shower" he pulled back from me and quickly kissed my forehead but as he was about to turn and leave he stopped.

"How about you join me" he murmured looking back at me his eyes already filled with lust and desire I thought about it for a second before nodding "sure why not" I smiled before squealing out as he quickly picked me up.

He walked us into the bathroom placing me onto the small counter "fuck I really missed you doll" he growled his hands fumbling with his clothes as he rushes to take them off his eyes locked with mine.

I giggled as he almost fell as he kicked off his boxers "oh shush" he laughed as he kissed me, he quickly helped me on to the floor his hands quickly working to pull off my clothes "I miss the way your body feels against mine" he mumbled as he urged me into the shower.

He pressed me against the wall of the small shower it was the only way we could fit in together "I want you so bad" he muttered kissing the skin between my neck and shoulder lovingly I let out small whines and gasps as he pressed his body against mine.

"Get ready" he said, I opened my mouth to ask why but the cold water hitting us made a small scream leave my lips "that's cold" I squeaked my hands moving to grasp his shoulders tightly he laughed at my reaction, my body was tense intil the water turned warm.

"Fuck that was freezing" I muttered breathing out as the water ran over my body, he chuckled again biting his lip "but it wakes up the body doesn't" he murmured leaning down so we were face to face "awakens each part of you".

His hands traced up and down my body as he pressed his lips against mine in a passionate kiss, I let my hands fall down his body to his cock, my hands wrapped around it making his breath hitch against my lips.

"Please doll please" he begged his voice shaking as he spoke I bit my lip as I teasingly ran my finger tips up and down his cock making him whine, "why don't you beg" I murmured which made him pause and look at me and I knew I fucked up.

He raised his eyebrow looking down at me "what was that baby doll" he asked his voice laced with a dominating tone, I blushed darkly looking away "n-nothing" I whispered his breath tickled my neck as he leaned closer to me his hand coming up to cup my face and force me too look at him.

"What did you say" he muttered but I didn't answer, he chuckled darkly and turned me over in a swift motion I gasped as I was pressed against the tiles "next time don't think your in control" he growled a slapped my ass a few times each time a gasp of pain left my lips.

"Aw such a red ass" he chuckled giving it one last smack before squeezing it, "you took it so well doll" he growled as he pressed his cock in between my thighs up against my core "now can you take something else" he teased.

I nodded my head eagerly pressing myself back against him "fuck" he muttered and moved himself to my entrance "shiv" I moaned as he slowly entered me making my hands helplessly hold onto the wall.

His thrusts pushed me further into the wall, his lips attached to the back of my neck leaving love bites along my skin "p-please" I whined as I felt a knot formed in my stomach, my eyes rolled back as I clenched around him making him grunt.

"Fuck I'm close" he groaned as his cock twitched inside me "cum with me cum with me doll" he grunted and I squealed out as I cum and soon after he filled me up with his seed, my knees buckled underneath me and he picked me up just intime.

"Go to sleep doll, I'll take care of everything all you have to do is rest"

[emma23]

Kiss and run :

Shiv x reader

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Moscow was unforgiving in the winter, the kind of cold that snuck into your bones and refused to leave. Shiv was used to it, though. He was used to the streets, the cold, the schemes, the way life in the city was a daily hustle. But none of that prepared him for you.

You, standing in front of him, blocking the door to your dingy little apartment, wearing an oversized sweater that swallowed half your body and somehow still managed to look cute. There was nothing fancy about you—Shiv wasn’t even sure if you owned a pair of shoes without holes in them—but that didn’t matter. You were sharp. Smart. Funny, too, in that kind of dry way that made you laugh at the world’s absurdity. You weren’t like anyone else he knew.

Tonight was supposed to be business as usual. A simple exchange, a quick in and out. He had a new lead on some parts, and you—somehow—had the connections to get them. That’s what made you interesting. You were quiet, unassuming, but you had your hands in things. You knew people. Shiv had no idea how you managed it, but it didn’t matter. He needed those parts, and you had them. Simple.

But nothing was ever simple with you.

“Alright,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, leaning against the doorframe. “You’ve got what I want?”

Shiv grinned, pulling a small, worn box from his coat pocket. He held it up, waggling it in front of your face. “What do you think?”

You glanced at the box, unimpressed. “I think it’s about time you paid me back for the last deal that went sideways.”

He rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t my fault. I had everything under control.”

“Oh sure,” you replied, sarcastic as ever. “Because nothing screams ‘under control’ like a deal that ends with someone jumping out of a second-story window.”

Shiv couldn’t help but laugh. He liked that about you. You didn’t take his bullshit. Most people did, but not you. You called him out on it every chance you got. That kind of thing could’ve gotten you in trouble, but with Shiv, it just made you more interesting.

“Well, this time,” he said, waving the box again, “you’ll see it’s all smooth.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious as always. “Uh-huh. And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“You always do.”

“Doesn’t mean I should,” you muttered, but you stepped aside, letting him into your tiny apartment. Shiv walked in, immediately hit by the warmth of the room, a stark contrast to the bitter cold outside. You didn’t have much—a beat-up couch, a table cluttered with papers, and a kitchen that looked like it hadn’t seen a full meal in days—but it was cozy. Homey, in a way Shiv didn’t really understand.

“So,” you began, closing the door behind him and locking it with a click, “where’s the rest of it?”

He turned to face you, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “Rest of what?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “You said you had everything I needed.”

Shiv smirked. “Patience, zvezda.”

Your eyes narrowed at the nickname. He called you star as a joke, a playful dig, because despite your constant complaining, you always managed to pull through. Like some kind of guiding star in the chaos of Moscow’s underworld. You hated it, but secretly? It made your heart do a stupid little flutter every time.

You walked over to him, crossing your arms, clearly unimpressed by his teasing. “I swear, Shiv, if you’re playing games—”

“Who, me?” He widened his eyes, feigning innocence. “I would never.”

You stared at him for a long moment, clearly weighing whether or not you should trust him. In the end, you sighed and plopped yourself onto the couch. “You’re impossible.”

Shiv chuckled, walking over and sitting down next to you, a little too close, but you didn’t move away. “That’s why you like me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, that’s it.”

For a few moments, there was silence. Shiv could feel the tension in the room. It wasn’t like the usual tension between you two. This was different—charged, like something unspoken was hanging in the air, just waiting for one of you to say something.

“So,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, “what’s the real reason you came by tonight?”

Shiv tilted his head, frowning slightly. “Business.”

“Bullshit.”

He blinked, taken aback by your bluntness. “What makes you say that?”

“Because,” you said, leaning back against the couch, “you could’ve sent someone else to make the deal. You didn’t have to come in person.”

Shiv opened his mouth to respond, but he realized you were right. He could’ve sent someone else. Hell, he could’ve dropped the box off and left, no questions asked. But instead, here he was, sitting on your couch, a little too close, his heart beating just a little too fast.

He was in trouble.

“Well, maybe I wanted to see you,” he admitted, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes searching his face, as if trying to figure out if he was serious. “Shiv…”

He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, which was strange for a man like him. Shiv wasn’t soft, not with anyone. But with you? Things were different. You made him feel… something. Something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Before either of you could say anything more, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Just like that. Mwah.

Shiv froze.

What the hell just happened?

Out of habit, his palm came up to touch his cheek, where your lips had been. The skin there felt different, warmer somehow, like it was buzzing under his fingertips. He blinked, completely thrown off by the simple, unexpected gesture. He’d been kissed plenty of times, but this? This was something else. Something more.

“You…” he started, but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t used to this—feeling this way.

But you didn’t give him time to figure it out. You stood up, already walking to the door. “Thanks for the parts,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just turned his world upside down with a single kiss.

And then, before he could say anything else, you opened the door, smiled, and said, “Goodnight, Shiv.”

Just like that, the door clicked shut in his face.

For a moment, he stood there, dumbfounded. His brain couldn’t process what had just happened. You’d kissed him. On the cheek. And then you’d kicked him out?

Shiv blinked, still standing in the hallway, his hand still on his cheek.

“Well, shit,” he muttered to himself. “That’s new.”

[cvntoid]

okay, wip wednesday. i promised somebody some hurt but i’m gunna have to take some extra time for that to build on it. anyway,

here we go. Shiv/Tom/reader

….

And it’s the reason you agreed to this… what? This farce of a dinner? Tom is giddy. You all play a little game, pretending you’re all friends, that you’re there casually and not because Shiv found you a while back on a dating app. There’d been a few meet-ups - neither of you feel comfortable calling them dates, though that’s really what they were; lingering over some kinda of meal, having drinks. Flirting, teasing.

And then… the invitation. Wanna come up? I think you could be a good fit. Her smirk, her glittering eyes. How could you say no to that?

Tom’s borderline wasted. He seems nervous, has been all night, but he’s a good host. He’s kind, if a little heavy-handed in conversation. He looks at you across the table and it’s two sets of eyes on you as you smile and sip.

“Well,” he says, his deep voice rumbling across the table as he rises from his seat. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies - nature calls. Maybe… maybe after I come back, we can convene in the living room, get - maybe get a little cozier.”

Shiv shares a look with you, just the slightest tilt of her smirk, a twitch of an eyebrow.

“Sounds good to me,” You say amiably, eyes on Shiv.

Tom looks delighted as he minces off to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone. Shiv leans over the table conspiratorially, rich voice drawn low.

“He likes you,” she says simply.

“That’s nice.”

“So - how do you feel? About him?” She trails her fingers along the stem of her wineglass and it’s hard to take your eyes off of her hand, soft, suggestive, her manicured nails skimming the glass. “I mean, you can tell me.”

There’s a weight to her voice, and you realize she’s also pretty drunk. She can handle her liquor - this much you already know.

“He’s nice. Gentlemanly.”

“Mmm. But…”

“Not necessarily ‘but’,” you say teasingly, leaning back in your seat. “He’s… a means to an end.”

“And what’s the end?”

The both of you lock gazes and there’s a clear tension, an electric sort of energy that permeates the room. There’s nothing you want more than to crawl over their nice table and grab her, pull her clothes off, devour her right there on the fucking floor, Tom be damned. It’s a setup for them to romp with an extra - sure, sure. Yes. But Shiv is the one you want. Shiv’s the whole fucking meal. Tom may as well be a chair in the corner. Sure, you could sit on it, but only to prop yourself up for the main course.

You smile and shrug a shoulder, finishing your drink. Shiv licks her lips and Tom wobbles back into the room, looking flushed and unstable.

[myromeow]

!! contains spoilers for season 2 of Succession generally but MAJOR episode 10 SPOILERS !!

-

Shiv Roy was never satisfied. Whether that was in her work life or her love life, Shiv was always striving for the best angle. She would never settle for something that was any less than what she thought she deserved. Then why, why was it so hard to find someone who could keep up with her? But no, that wasn’t it, because even someone like Nate couldn’t satisfy Shiv in the end. Then there was Tom. In theory great, but still not enough. It was her interest that always, inevitably, waned.

I suppose Shiv always knew, but shoved it so deep down out of necessity. It was hard enough in the business world to be a woman as it is. She had to work ten times harder than her brothers to be taken seriously, and face ten times as much criticism when she fucked up. Misogyny was a bitch, but homophobia was worse. Never mind that her own father is the king of right wing news media, and has single handedly done more damage to the societal position of ethnic and sexual minorities than perhaps any other person in America. The world, even. Never mind that his reaction would break her, surely negative. Not out of hatred for queers specifically—Logan hated everyone, after all, especially his own children. Shiv could imagine his disproving gaze, one she was all too familiar with. His lecture on how, if it ever came out, it could, no would scare the shareholders. It would ruin everything. Never mind all that. Never mind that her first kiss was with a girl in boarding school, who left after the second term. Her first heartbreak. Never mind that the best sex she ever had was during a threesome, kissing some girl she hasn’t seen since. Never mind her disappointment when Tom said no to the threesome with a girl she’d picked out on the Roy’s yacht. Shiv could’ve fucked her anyway but the risk was

too high. Too many snakes lounging on deck chairs and sipping drinks around too polite conversation. Too many eyes. Shiv Roy liked to be in control of the narrative, the when, where and who—no interruptions or mishaps.

She sat glumly on the beach next to her husband, face frowning like a child who’d been scolded, suppressing her tears that showed up on queue. She loved Tom, is what she told herself. Maybe she did. She’d loved how easy he was to convince, how trusting he was, almost like a dog. A big soft lump, sentimental enough to get choked up at their wedding. But his vulnerability, his weakness was also why Shiv could never love him the way he needed her to. Shiv did not have a soft bone in her body. And dogs learn not to trust humans that hit them, over and over again.

Shiv Roy was never satisfied with anyone. Whether that was due to her narcissism or her abidance to compulsory heterosexuality, was anyone’s guess. Shiv had built her icy grave, cold and frigid walls unreachable by all human warmth, totally isolated.

She lay in it.

A/N — I know it’s is a hotly debated topic if Logan loves his kids but imo Logan thinks he loves his children (as Brian cox says) but REAL love is shown in actions not just words. In practice, he doesn’t love them anymore than he can use them for his own benefit. You see how quickly he throws Kendall away after u know what. Like Shiv and Tom, who she used and needed at a vulnerable time in her life when they first got together, but when someone needed to be sacrificed for the company and it was in her self interest, she would throw him under the bus in a heartbeat. Also Shiv’s face in the beach scene really reminded me of a child who’d been told off and was having a strop hahahhaha.

Please if you have any thoughts on this let me know in asks or reblogs! (I can’t reply to comments as this is a side blog). This was inspired by my pinned post on Shiv & comphet and is cross posted to my AO3

[wambsgansshoelaces]

guess what guys!! like a third of the way done with a normal sized request 😗 hopefully will be done by tomorrow, but for now I’m going to retire and play good pizza great pizza like the iPad baby I am

[httpjupiterbby]

i hate it here so i will go to secret gardens in my mind (fictional women)

[beegomess]

You Haven’t Seen My Man || Kendall Roy

Summary: Being Kendall Roy's wife involves giving up some things. However, working with you involves understanding that sometimes you may end up drawing more attention than he would like. But this is not really a problem for someone who loves to prove to be powerful all the time. Warnings: Cute, spicy with hints of implicit control - Word count: 8.3k

You were married now, but the story that united you was far from conventional or romantic. His brother and Kendall met in a rehabilitation clinic, sharing not only the fight against addiction, but also the weight of being heirs always pressured to prove their worth. The friendship between them was natural, and you, as a frequent visitor, became part of that bond. At the time, she hid that she worked as a legal advisor at Waystar, aware that the connection with the Roys could complicate things.

When both were discharged, you organized a celebration. It was that night that you and Kendall began to get closer. What seemed like an unpretentious friendship evolved into something more. You have become colleagues, friends and, finally, boyfriends. They were difficult years, marked by relapses of both and by Kendall's constant effort to get back up. Despite this, you remained together, supporting each other.

But the night Kendall asked you to marry him brought a devastating turn. You left dinner overflowing with joy to tell your brother the news, but you found him unconscious in your apartment. The overdose was fatal. What should be a new beginning also became the end of an important part of his life.

The devastating loss increased the pressure of your father, who wanted you to take on the role of CEO of the family business, something you always avoided. He also showed support for his marriage to Kendall, but his real intentions involved uniting families to strengthen his power, which filled her with revolt. Since then, you have kept your distance from your family, although his pressure has never ceased.

Kendall remained by your side, putting her own pain aside to help you get through the grief. Although the loss has never been completely overcome, it has become more bearable in the company of someone who understood the weight of carrying difficult memories.

When they got married, the lives of both fit in a surprisingly quiet way, considering the chaos that surrounded them. You chose to stay out of the power dispute at Waystar, which helped maintain the balance between work and marriage. Still, working under the same roof, with Kendall technically as his boss, brought challenges. Some tensions inevitably overflowed to domestic life, but you learned how to deal with it.

That morning was a perfect example of the controlled chaos that you and Kendall had learned to master. Since Logan's death, Waystar had become an arena of constantly burning egos, with Kendall, Shiv and Roman competing to make decisions while sewing the deal with Lukas Matsson. For you, the frenetic pace was nothing new. But that day, it seemed that everything was amplified.

Kendall had left early, leaving you with some precious minutes in bed that, although comforting, ended up devoured by the avalanche of messages and notifications on her cell phone. When he arrived at the office, he was already one step behind, and this did not go unnoticed. He didn't even have time to spend in Roman's room, where he and Lukas were gathered. Not that you wanted to get more involved than necessary - your role there was more strategic, and you knew exactly when to withdraw and when to act.

While packing the pile of papers I would need to discuss with Kendall, the phone on his desk vibrated. It was a message from him with a typical urgency. You sighed, already gathering what you needed, while answering a call from an external lawyer who seemed unable to understand something simple.

The heels of your shoes hit rhythmically against the carpet as you crossed the corridor. The sound echoed in the open spaces of the floor, a clear sign of his haste. In that environment, everyone seemed to be always watching each other, like animals in a corporate zoo.

When passing through Roman's room, he noticed Lukas gesturing at a glance, but did not pay attention. It was no news that he was there. Inside, Lukas interrupted the sentence itself when you passed, his eyes fixed on you long enough for Roman to notice.

- When I buy all this shit, will I have assistants like her? - Lukas shot, a cheeky smile curling his lips as his gaze lingered in the direction where you had just disappeared. The malicious insinuation was clear in every word.

Roman swallowed dryly, the discomfort evident in his expression. I knew Lukas well enough to know that giving any information would only increase his interest. But I couldn't just ignore it either. He needed to stop talking.

- Man, trust me, you wouldn't handle her. - Roman said, launching his typical mixture of humor and sarcasm. - She sees beyond the walls. You probably already know what you think before you open your mouth. It's fucking scary.

Lukas let out a short laugh, but Roman's comment didn't totally disarm him. His thoughts were still stuck in the image of you crossing the office, his hips moving with a grace that seemed almost calculated.

He knew he shouldn't be distracted, not at that moment, but something in you bothered him. It wasn't just the appearance - it was the aura of control, of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

As Lukas turned his attention to the meeting, the malicious smile did not completely disappear. Maybe it was an exaggeration, maybe he was just bored. Or maybe there was something in you that challenged you, without you even knowing it.

You, on the other hand, were completely oblivious to any look that could be cast in your direction. Your mind was too busy with professional issues, and on the personal side, Kendall, although consumed by the obsession with being a CEO, found ways to devote to you all the attention she needed - and sometimes even a little more. He knew how to balance the two worlds when necessary, a trait that you secretly admired in him.

That same day, something not so unusual was about to happen. At work, you always maintained an impeccable posture. Seriousness and professionalism were practically their business cards. You knew the dangers of giving room to gossip or distractions in the corporate environment. But no matter how much I tried to keep things strictly professional, sometimes it was impossible to ignore the magnetic tension between the two of you. He had a unique talent for making you lower your guard, especially when Waystar's building was almost empty.

The day was exhausting and long, a whirlwind of words and numbers that seemed to dance in front of you from the moment you passed by Waystar's concierge. Now, with the floor almost empty and the sky outside dipped in darkness, you and Kendall were sitting side by side on the couch in your living room, trying to decipher the last barrier of a problematic contract.

Kendall's suit had already been abandoned hours ago, and the sleeves of his dress shirt were folded up to the forearms. He was more comfortable. You had also abandoned any formality: the heels were dropped near the sofa, the blazer had disappeared at some point in the day, and you now settled with your legs bent under you, in an almost intimate position, reflecting the tiredness and comfort you felt next to him.

The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of fingers occasionally typing on the notebook keyboard and exhausted sighs. It was Kendall who broke the cycle, rubbing her face with her hands and leaning back on the couch with a heavy sigh, the frustration evident.

You observed the movement, the way he seemed more vulnerable at that moment, and made the decision to end the torture that you yourselves were imposing. With a decisive gesture, you closed the two notebooks in front of you and organized the papers in an improvised pile.

- I think we've done enough for today. - His voice was low, but he had a quiet determination that he didn't dispute.

When you leaned over to reach the table, your skirt went up a few centimeters more, exposing parts of your skin. Despite the evident tiredness, Kendall's gaze automatically slid to you, a spark of interest lighting up in your eyes. He didn't say anything, but the smile that began to play on his lips delivered him.

You leaned back on the couch again, but this time, instinctively, closer to him. His hand went up to the back of Kendall's neck, his fingers tracing small circles on the tense skin, an affectionate and intimate gesture that always made him relax.

- Do we really have to go to his country house this week? - You asked, your voice low and almost resigned, as if you expected him to change something. - Can't Matsson be normal and just do a video conference?

Kendall opened her eyes, turning her face slightly in your direction.

- Do you need a vacation? Because that would be a bad moment. - The provocation came with a tired but sincere smile.

- Well, you couldn't stop me anyway. - You answered in the same tone, a playful smile illuminating your face.

Kendall tilted her head, the expression slightly challenging as she rested her hands on her legs, gently pulling them to be on top of his.

- You know I'm still your boss, don't you? - His provocation was accompanied by a light touch on his knees, his fingers slowly rising up the curve of his thighs, like someone testing the limits.

- Nothing like a good judicial process to put things in perspective. - You replied with a defiant smile.

He let out a low and incredulous laugh, his eyes shining with amusement.

- Are you threatening me? Because, just for the record, my legal group is the best in the country.

You couldn't contain the loud laugh that escaped, the sound echoing through the silent room. Kendall leaned over, his smile growing when he saw his fun.

- What? Do you think I'm kidding? - He continued, still smiling, but now his hands were firmly anchored to your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't notice the exact moment when you ended up completely on his lap, but there was, sitting on your legs, the heat of the bodies of you two filling the small space between you.

- You definitely wouldn't want to face me in a court, Ken. - You murmured, the lowest voice now, but still provocative, while your arms wrapped around his neck.

His hands tightened slightly on his waist, as if they wanted to record the moment in his memory. He tilted his head, his eyes sliding from his lips to the neckline of his blouse, which was now slightly more open because of the position.

You didn't have time to say anything else before he tilted his face and his lips finally met. The kiss started slowly, almost exploratory, but quickly became more intense. His hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, feeling his breathing accelerated as he deepened the kiss.

Some fingers slowly rose under your skirt, dragging the fabric with them, while Kendall pulled you even closer, gluing her hips to his. The movement was deliberate, provocative, and when he pressed you against you, you felt exactly what he wanted you to feel.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, your fingers sliding down the open collar until you met the heat of the exposed skin, at the same time, his hands went up more, exploring his thighs without any hurry, but with a firmness that made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. When the lips parted, it was only for him to go down his jaw and reach his neck, where he began to distribute hot and possessive kisses.

You let out a trembling sigh when he found a sensitive spot near your collarbone. He noticed and lightly bit the area, a satisfied smile forming against his skin when he heard the sound that escaped from his lips.

- You have no idea how much I have to hold back when you wear this fucking skirt. - He whispered against her neck, his warm breath making his skin shiver.

You arched your body, tilting your head to give him more access, while he continued the path over your shoulders, his lips alternating between kisses and soft bites that made you lose control. Unhurriedly, Kendall slid her fingers through the fabric of her blouse, moving it away just enough to expose more of her skin.

- Much better this way. - He murmured against his collarbone, the hot breath making his skin even more sensitive. His hands returned to your waist, pulling you again against him while your lips explored the new piece of exposed skin.

You tried to answer, but your mind was a blur. His every touch seemed to set you on fire, and when he pressed his lips lower, near the beginning of your bra, you couldn't hold a louder sigh.

That's when a noise in the distance interrupted the moment. A low sound, maybe the creaking of a door or quick steps, made you freeze for an instant. Kendall, however, seemed to ignore it completely.

- Ken... - you call, between sighs, your eyes opening more attentively while trying to regain focus. He ignored it, thinking it was just one more of those delicious moans you let out when muttering his name. But your voice became more serious when you pushed his face away, still panting. - Ken, I think there's someone here.

He frowned, reluctantly, his lips still close to his neck while grumbling:

- So what?

You moved away a little, already restless, standing, your eyes trying to cross the darkness of the office beyond the glass walls. Kendall sighed, clearly upset, and accompanied you. He stopped right behind you, his hands automatically returning to your waist as he glued his body to yours, as if the situation were a mere detail that did not require any attention.

- There's no one here, dear. - He murmured in her ear, pressing his lips back on the curve of his neck, ignoring any sound or shadow that might exist.

You closed your eyes for a moment, almost giving in again to the warmth of his hands on your waist and brushing your lips that seemed to want to erase any remnant of your concern. But then the sound came back: something soft, like a hurried movement or the creak of a door in the distance.

- Ken, seriously. - You turned around, putting your hands on his chest, trying to stay firm. - Shall we go home?

He furrowed his eyebrows quickly, his lips curved in a carefree smile that only made it clear how much he thought you were exaggerating.

- Are you really getting me out of here? - he asked, tilting his head while looking at you as if it were a crime to leave things incomplete.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head, but before you could answer, he pulled you by the neck for a kiss, one of those that disarmed any argument. The plan of a quick kiss to convince him was completely lost when he deepened the movement, his hands firm on his waist as he pressed you against his body, with an accuracy that made you forget why they were still there.

Finally, he walked away, the satisfied smile still stamped on his face, and murmured:

- Let's go soon. - He took the suit thrown on the couch with the same energy as someone who wanted to shorten the waiting time, wearing it anyway.

You took the opportunity to take your bag, put on your shoes and turn off the lights. While the door closed behind you and you walked to the elevator, Kendall didn't waste time: a hand slid firmly to his ass, squeezing lightly while he commented something provocative with a cheeky smile.

The way back home seemed longer than usual, every second an agony. His fingers slowly went up his thigh, deliberate, squeezing and sliding, as if he wanted to test his limits.

As soon as the elevator of the building where you lived arrived, the silence between you seemed electric, the air loaded with tension. As soon as the door opened directly to the apartment, Kendall was already pulling you by the waist, closing the space between you as if there was no more time to waste. He pressed you against the wall next to the entrance, his hungry lips on yours, and you responded with equal intensity, your hands grabbing his hair, pulling him closer.

The corridor became a blur as he guided you inside, the two bumping into furniture as if every second mattered. When they got to the kitchen, Kendall didn't hesitate.

- Is this good for you? - He murmured, his voice loaded with sarcasm and desire, his chest pressed against his back, while sliding his hands down his thighs, raising his skirt without ceremony.

You couldn't answer, already completely surrendered to the firm and urgent touches. The kitchen, with its cold tones and the soft street lighting that entered through the windows, became the perfect setting for the outcome of the desire that began in the office.

__________________________

The days before the trip were intense and so full of commitments that time seemed to escape through your fingers. Kendall, you, Roman and Shiv were at a frantic pace, adjusting the last details of the proposal for Matsson during the flight. The atmosphere between you was focused, but Roman's constant interruptions with his jokes did not let the environment become completely wise.

The flight was long and silent. While most of you were immersed in papers or napping, there was a feeling of shared restlessness. You noticed this in Kendall, who drummed her fingers on the arm of the armchair.

When they landed at the small airport, the atmosphere of the destination welcomed them with a humid and cloudy cold. The surrounding mountains seemed to be covered by a thin fog, and the icy wind carried raindrops. Roman, when putting his feet on the ground, looked at the cars waiting for you and, as expected, made a comment:

- Oh, perfect. Who needs a helicopter when you can take an endless trip by car.

During the journey through the winding roads that crossed the mountainous region, the silence in the car was interrupted only by the sound of the windshield wiper fighting against the persistent drops.

When they finally arrived at the place, an imposing and modernist construction emerged in the melancholic landscape. It was isolated, surrounded by tall trees and surrounded by low clouds. Despite the discomfort caused by the cold and rain, the minimalist architecture seemed even more impactful in the scenery.

You and Kendall went out side by side, the body expression of both was neutral, maintaining professionalism. The tense atmosphere of the negotiation seemed combined with the gloomy atmosphere of the place.

Lukas was waiting under the entrance cover. Dressed casually, he seemed completely at ease, as if the hostile weather was just another characteristic of his nature. His eyes soon fell on you, analyzing every detail in a long and not at all subtle way. A brief smile appeared on the corner of his lips, something between interest and curiosity.

He approached to greet the group, extending his hand to Kendall first. Then, his eyes turned to you, and he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to evaluate who you were.

Kendall returned the greeting impassively, and you just kept the same professional countenance, corresponding to the handshake that Lukas offered. Despite not showing any visible reaction, you noticed his insistent gaze on you, as if you were trying to decipher your presence there.

His first impressions of that place ranging from something almost picturesque, ideal for relaxing, to a slasher movie setting. Dense trees surrounded the complex, its branches writhing as if whispering secrets. And the accommodations... Well, these brought a new meaning to "forced intimacy".

The rooms were small, surrounded by glass walls that led to the treetops - and to the rooms of others. There were no curtains, just a dubious concept of "integration with nature". Privacy seemed like a joke.

- What the fuck is this? - you let go, dropping your suitcase in a corner with a slack of disdain. - They put us in a matchbox with transparent walls.

Kendall, already taking off her coat, laughed low and shook her head.

- This guy is too weird to choose this damn place. - But the irritation on his face was obvious. He hated places that escaped the standard of impeccable luxury.

While you were removing your heavy coat, Kendall answered a call from Roman. He left his cell phone on the speakerphone on the table, and his brother's debauched voice took over the environment.

- Damn, are these rooms a social experiment? - Roman began, already with that tone loaded with sarcasm. - Who was the genius who decided: 'Hey, do you know what's going to be great? Glass walls among dysfunctional adults!'.

You suppressed a laugh while Roman continued:

- By the way, you can see you here. Yes, literally. So, please, do me a fucking favor and save the couple's little show for later. Seriously, whatever you do in that bed - I don't know, bite, moan, scream - I don't need a VIP window to watch. My trauma quota is already broken.

- Why don't you just look away? - Kendall replied, frowning, but unable to hide a smile.

- Oh, great plan, Ken! I'll just turn my head and ignore the erotic theater that you two may or may not decide to stage. Like, of course, super simple. It's like asking not to look at a car disaster.

Kendall just hung up with a sigh.

- He never shuts up, does he?

- It's a talent. - You laughed, dropping your coat on the couch and going towards the bathroom.

The bathroom was even tighter. You sighed when you entered, since it wasn't exactly the standard of comfort you were used to. His apartment in New York was practically a sanctuary, where not even a drone would be able to snoop.

The hot water ran down his skin, but there was no way to relax completely. Everything in that place seemed... exposed, at the same time as tiny. When you left the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, you found Kendall sitting on the bed, fiddling with your cell phone with a restained expression of frustration.

- What's wrong? - you asked as you went to your suitcase, taking the clothes you would wear during dinner.

Kendall dropped her cell phone on the bed and rubbed her eyes with her hands, the gesture of someone on the verge of exploding with their own thoughts.

- Nothing, just rereading some things. - He replied, looking up at you. The smile that emerged was subtle, but carried a malicious trace.

- What kind of "things"? - you asked, pulling a black wool blouse out of the suitcase.

He tilted his head, his eyes walking through you while you chose a heavy coat to complete the look.

- The kind that makes me think that we could pretend we got lost in this shitty place and skip this dinner.

You laughed, shaking your head while wearing your underwear, still feeling the remnant of lightness of the moment they shared. However, as soon as you and Kendall left the room and reached the main corridor, the atmosphere changed. Near the entrance of the hall, they found Shiv and Roman, and the air already seemed loaded with tension. As expected, Roman did not miss the opportunity to break the atmosphere with one of his jokes, full of irony.

- Look, the couple of the moment. - He said, with a crooked smile. - I bet dinner will be the preliminaries for what comes next.

You didn't stop, you just kept walking, your cutting tone escaping naturally.

- Roman, you're talking so much about it that I'm starting to think you're waiting for us to make love in front of you or something like that.

Roman went from surprised to angry, and you could hear the frustration in his voice.

- Fuck you.

You launched a victorious smile, without even looking back. You positioned yourself next to Shiv, following next to her to the table where they would sit while you listened to her tell you about the discoveries about Matsson.

The rhythmic sound of your heels and those of Shiv echoed through the hall as you walked towards the designated table. To the corner of your eye, you noticed Gerri and Carl sitting further down, engaged in a conversation that seemed casual. Gerri threw a polite smile in your direction, and you reciprocated, without thinking too much, before continuing to walk next to Shiv.

However, as soon as you passed, Carl leaned slightly towards Gerri, the unmistakable provocative tone.

- Still trying to make friends, huh?

Gerri kept the smile on his face, but the sarcasm in his voice was cutting.

- I still can't believe this bitch got so much power just by fucking one of Logan's children.

Carl gave a muffled laugh, his gaze dancing between Gerri and his figure, now on his way to the table.

- Well, it's not like you haven't tried something similar either, right?

Gerri sighed deeply, as if the conversation was more exhausting than necessary.

- Fuck you, Carl.

You, oblivious to the poison exchanged behind you, went to the table with Shiv, focused only on the dinner you were about to start.

Dinner was a mixture of forced formality and disguised tensions. The expensive dishes were served in silence interrupted only by the strategic conversations between the sides of Waystar and GoJo. You were calm, oblivious to any subtext that surrounded the table. He answered Matsson's questions succinctly when he tried to involve you in discussions about his area of expertise, remaining strictly professional. His clear and objective answers left little room for any other interpretation.

On the other side of the table, Roman watched everything with the usual restless attention. It didn't take long for him to realize that Matsson's eyes wandered to you more often than necessary. It was subtle, but it was there - the look that lasted a little longer when you spoke, the pause before he returned to paying attention to what Kendall or Shiv were saying.

He spent dinner rolling his eyes at himself. "Really, Lukas? Do you want to fuck her now? At a dinner? With Kendall right there?" He thought, trying to decide whether to intervene with some comment or just let the show roll. In the end, he remained silent, but the tension did not go unnoticed.

Dinner was over, and conversations flowed in small groups scattered around the hall. You ended up cornered by Greg, who, with his innate ability to turn any topic into an endless monologue, was talking about something that involved compliance systems and a documentary that no one else seemed to have heard of. You nodded from time to time, let out a "Is it really?", while thinking about how to get out of there.

Finally, you asked for permission, a polite smile on your lips, but in a hurry enough not to give him room to insist. The cold air outside was an immediate relief, and you pulled your coat closer, taking the silver cigarette wallet out of your pocket. The sound of the lighter breaking the silence was almost comforting as the smoke spread around him.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't hear the steps approaching until a low voice full of irony sounded behind you.

- Do you mind offering me one of these?

You turned around slightly, finding Lukas Matsson standing there, the smile half crooked on his face, the expression too casual to be innocent.

- Of course. - You answered, handing him the wallet and the lighter. He took a cigarette, lit it calmly, and the flame of the lighter briefly lit up his face before he released the first long puff.

For a few seconds, silence reigned, only the sound of the embers burning filling the space. So, he broke the moment:

- So, what's your story? Did they throw you into this last-minute deal or was it just a strategic move that no one noticed?

You let out a low laugh, bringing it again while answering:

- I don't think your team did homework as well as you think. - There was an ironic tone in his voice, but nothing exaggerated. - I've always been involved. I only prefer to avoid the spotlight when I can.

Matsson gave a short laugh, leaning more relaxed against the wall, but his eyes never left you.

- You know, that's funny. - he said, releasing another drag. - It seems that the more time I spend with you, from Waystar, the more I wonder how Logan kept this shit all together.

You kept a polite smile, but you didn't get more involved than necessary.

- He knew exactly how to deal with each piece on the board.

He arched an eyebrow, interested.

- And you? Is it just another piece... or is it the one who moves the others?

His words came loaded with a subtext that you preferred to ignore. Your smile didn't falter while you put out the cigarette on the stone guardrail in front of you.

- I'm more for someone who guarantees that the board remains whole.

Matsson laughed softly, shaking his head.

- Between us, if Kendall had introduced me to you before, I would have signed any contract he asked for.

You stopped in the middle of the gesture of putting out the cigarette, crossing your arms instinctively. The short laugh that escaped was dry, almost sharp.

- This is somewhat inappropriate, considering the context.

Matsson tilted his head, a smile that was half fun, half provocation forming on his lips.

- Don't worry, it just makes everything more... interesting.

The comment made something turn in your stomach. His disconnection from the seriousness of the situation was as absurd as it was annoying. For him, it seemed like a game, a casual provocation, but you felt the weight of the inadequacy. Taking a step back, you adjusted your coat with calculated calm before answering firmly:

- Well, I think I've spent too much time outside.

He didn't move, he just kept smiling in that almost defiant way, as if he was testing his limits. You turned around and started walking back, but the discomfort persisted. Even without looking, it was impossible to ignore the weight of his gaze burning on his back.

When he got close to the salon, he saw Kendall, and the relief was immediate. Approaching, you lightly touched his arm and murmured something quick. He nodded, casting a discreet look at you before continuing his conversation.

As you left the room, you could feel Matsson watching everything from afar, his eyes fixed on every movement. What did he think he was doing? The confusion hung over you as you went up to the room, trying to remove the discomfort of that interaction.

After dinner, when most people were already starting to disperse, Matsson called Shiv, Roman and Kendall to his office. The room was minimalist, with dark wooden furniture and soft lighting that seemed to cast more shadows than clarity.

Roman, as usual, did not miss the chance to make one or two comments that made him laugh, while Shiv kept a clinical look at Lukas' roles and words. Kendall was attentive, but calm, following each point with a meticulous focus.

When the subject of the agreement finally sold out, Roman was the first to get up, with

Shiv going right behind. Kendall, in turn, mentioned accompanying them, but Matsson's voice interrupted him, casual, but firm.

- Kendall, stay a little longer. I want to exchange an idea with you.

Kendall stopped halfway, looking at the brothers. Shiv hesitated for a moment, narrowing his eyes, but ended up leaving without saying anything. The door closed with a soft click, leaving the two alone.

Lukas went to the bar in the corner of the room, the steps deliberately slow. He took a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses, handing one to Kendall before casually leaning back on the counter. His smile had that ambiguous quality - friendly, but provocative.

- You know, you have an interesting team. - He started, turning the glass in his hand. - A little... predictable, maybe, but interesting.

Kendall laughed low, almost automatically, while taking a sip.

- Yeah, they do what they need to do.

Lukas tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening.

- Someone from your team caught my attention.

Kendall raised an eyebrow, curious, but still relaxed.

- Really?

- Yes. - Lukas took another sip, savoring the moment. - An assistant of yours, I imagine. She tried to stay professional, but... fuck, what a woman.

Kendall laughed lightly, shaking her head as if the situation were an internal joke.

- I didn't know she was your type.

Matsson arched his eyebrows, as if he were facing something too obvious to be discussed.

- Are you slutty? Damn, the woman is fucking hot. I tried to start a conversation, but she didn't make it easy.

Kendall let out a more genuine laugh now, completely certain that Matsson was talking about Jess. He imagined the assistant, who always seemed shy and out of place, trying to avoid the company's buyer.

- Well, that probably blew her mind. This kind of situation is not exactly her strong point.

Matsson shrugged, the smile loaded with subtext.

- Maybe. But nothing that a little... persistence can't solve.

Kendall still laughed, not realizing the true focus of the comments.

- Okay, good luck with that.

Matsson raised the glass, as if toasting to the "challenge", but the malicious glow in his eyes suggested much more. Finally, he changed the subject, but the tension in the air persisted, hovering between the two as something that would not be easily dissipated.

__________________________

The next morning, as soon as Kendall appeared, Roman intercepted him right on his arrival for breakfast, looking more curious than worried.

- So, Ken, what did Matsson want with you yesterday?

Kendall sighed, already anticipating Roman's insistence. In addition to having been briefly frightened by the abrupt arrival of his brother.

- Relax, man. I won't sell the company without you. - Kendall answers with a light smile with a humorous tone.

Roman, however, rolled his eyes, impatient.

- What did he want?

Kendall hesitated for a moment, but ended up letting out a short laugh while lowering her tone of voice.

- No big deal. He just wanted to talk about an assistant of mine.

- Assistant? - Roman narrowed his eyes, his expression confused.

- Yeah, I don't know, Jess. He said he thought she was hot or something like that. - Kendall gave a light laugh. - Surprising, right? Like, who would have thought?

Roman blinked, the plug suddenly falling, and his expression became incredulous. He grabbed Kendall's arm, pulling him away from curious ears.

- Ken, are you serious? - Kendall frowned in confusion, with no answer to what her brother meant by that. After all, why would he lie about that?

Roman rubbed his face, as if he needed a moment to reorganize his thoughts.

- Man, I hate being the bearer of the bad news, but... he wasn't talking about Jess.

Kendall kept not understanding, already getting impatient.

- What the fuck do you mean by that?

Roman lowered his voice even more, but the tone carried all the drama that only he knew how to apply.

- He was talking about your wife, Ken.

Kendall's face hardened, the laughter disappeared immediately.

- What?

- Do you remember that day at Waystar? He saw her passing by and, fuck, I swear, the guy almost drooled on the glass of my living room. It was so uncomfortable that I had to invent something on the spot.

- And what did you say, Roman? - Kendall asked slowly, her eyes narrowed.

Roman raised his hands, half defensive, half cynical.

- I said she was your assistant, okay? I thought you were helping. The guy was literally looking at her as if it were dessert.

Kendall ran her hand over her face, taking a deep breath, as if she wanted to punch a wall.

- Did you say she was my assistant?

- Yes, because Lukas was one step away from asking for her number. You know how he is. I thought I was playing fair for you. I thought that, because I was an assistant, he would lose interest, I don't know.

Kendall closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was counting to ten.

- And now he thinks he can talk to me about it as if it were a trophy he wants to conquer?

Roman shrugged, casting an almost apologetic look.

- Welcome to the world of Lukas Matsson. He's a cretin with an ego the size of fucking Norway.

Roman patted Kendall's shoulder before walking away, but Kendall stood still for a moment, looking at the floor, clearly trying to decide what her next step would be.

The worst was not only Matsson's behavior, but what it meant. It was a constant reminder that he was, of his own free will, about to deliver everything: Waystar, ATN, the legacy that his family carried, no matter how sick it was.

Kendall tried to focus on work for the rest of the day, but it was impossible to ignore. Whenever Matsson made a comment that seemed on the verge of something inappropriate, Roman exchanged tense glances with Kendall, as if he was expecting an explosion at any moment.

And, of course, there was the ATN.

Kendall knew that selling Waystar was already a complicated decision, but including ATN in the package? That was simply handing over all the weapons to the enemy. With the presidential elections coming, the ATN was more than a tool; it was a weapon of influence on a large scale. Leaving that in Matsson's hands was giving him a power that not even Logan would have dared to deliver.

___________________________

That same night, Kendall finally consolidated his decision. He knew that Shiv would never support him in this plan, so he went straight to what really mattered: convincing Roman. Manipulating her brother, twisting the arguments until they made sense to both of them, was something Kendall did with the skill of someone who had spent his whole life watching Logan. And, like Logan, he felt no remorse for leaving Shiv out. She was brilliant, but also mercilessly practical, and at this moment, Kendall needed something more emotional, something that only Roman could offer.

The next day, the morning was tense, but Kendall barely seemed to notice. He maintained his professional posture, and when the right time came, he set up the scene. During the meeting on a mountain trail, he pressured Matsson with insinuations about the fragility of GoJo's numbers and the potential increase in Waystar's value. It was a dangerous dance, but Kendall knew exactly where to step to make Matsson hesitate. The plan was moving slowly, but accurately.

At night, after dinner, Kendall was visibly closer to you. Throughout the day, he had left small gestures of proximity: his hand resting on the lower part of your back while you moved through the hall, one arm on the back of your chair. It was atypical for him, and you were surprised, but you didn't complain.

Already in the room, the dim light of the lamp next to the bed barely illuminated the room, but it was enough to highlight Kendall's tense expression as he closed the door behind him. He walked up to you slowly, his fingers running through his hair in an automatic gesture of frustration, before letting the weight of his body fall on the edge of the bed.

- Roman is with me - he said, without preamble, his gaze fixed on the floor. He tilted his head to you, his eyes softer, but still full of concern. - That's already something.

You frowned, closing the book you had in your hands and putting it aside.

- Okay, but what exactly are we talking about here?

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands before turning completely to you. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost conspiratorial:

- I'm going to screw this deal. Make Matsson give up even before he gets to the council.

Your stomach jumped a little with the confidence in his voice, but you kept the expression neutral.

- And how do you intend to do that? - he asked, hesitantly.

- Force the bar. Inflate the numbers. Throwing enough shit on the table until he thinks it's not worth it.

You were silent for a moment, processing everything he had just said. It was risky, of course, but the part of you who knew the game well knew it wasn't impossible. Still, there was something in his tone, in his gestures, that suggested that he wanted more than just his approval.

- Ken... - you started, but he cut you off.

- And you? Do you have another idea? Because, honestly, I'm open to suggestions.

He hesitated. Of course there was something - the letter that no one else seemed to be thinking about. But it was risky. Not only for Kendall, but for you too.

- It's not exactly conventional - you started, carefully choosing the words. - But we've done things like this before.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile thrown on his face.

- Okay, before your father passed away he kind of chose the next president, didn't he? Maybe... If you ensure that one of the candidates wins, but on the condition that the agreement is barred...

- Politics? - He laughed softly, more out of disbelief than humor. - Are you suggesting that I use ATN to create a political advantage and bar Matsson?

- And why not? The ATN takes care of him being elected, and everything is very simple: an election for favors to Waystar.

He didn't answer immediately. He was just looking at you, his eyes loaded with something difficult to decipher, as if he was evaluating not only the weight of your words, but you whole. Then, suddenly, a slow smile formed, that typical Kendall expression when an idea consumed him completely. Without warning, he leaned over and pressed his lips against yours almost desperately, as if you had just delivered the solution to all his problems.

- Damn, I fucking love you. - He murmured, his forehead touching yours while a small smile still hovered on his lips.

You couldn't avoid a laugh, half surprised, half enchanted, but full of the lightness that he seemed so desperate to feel.

At the same time, in Matsson's office, Shiv entered with a confidence almost identical to Kendall's, carrying on his shoulders the posture of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Shiv entered Lukas Matsson's office with calculated steps, like someone who knew the weight of his own presence. He was at the bar, absently fiddling with a bottle of whiskey, but turned around when he saw it. A provocative smile appeared almost immediately.

- Oh, Roy who really knows what he's doing. What an honor.

She ignored the sarcasm, approaching with the usual posture: absolute confidence. Shiv knew he loved a power game and wanted to make him confused about what piece she represented on that board.

- We need to talk, Lukas. Of course, my brother is... complicating things.

He poured himself a glass and offered her another one, which Shiv accepted without taking his eyes off him.

- Complicating? - He arched an eyebrow, leaning casually. - It's a polite way of saying that he's trying to fuck with the agreement.

- Well, considering the circumstances, it doesn't surprise me.

Matsson tilted his head, interested.

- Circumstances?

Shiv turned the liquid in the glass, taking his time to choose the words. She knew that the next move would be crucial.

- Before we go for this, I want something from you.

He laughed briefly, surprised by the audacity.

- Like what?

- A guarantee that, if I help you, my place in all this will be solid. No unexpected turnaround, no last-minute change of plans.

Lukas blinked, clearly intrigued.

- Are you serious?

- Always. - She took a sip of the whiskey. - You need someone who knows how to deal with things... and I need to know that, at the end of this, I won't be just a pawn.

Shiv observed his reaction with a subtle smile, as if he knew exactly the direction the conversation would take. She leaned back in the chair, keeping her eyes fixed on Lukas, while he still seemed to process her proposal. She had the feeling that he was beginning to realize the weight of his words, but still not enough to accept the offer without question.

- And what are you going to give me in return, then? - Lukas asked, more genuine now, as if the negotiation had begun.

She didn't hesitate.

- Kendall. - The word fell like a silent command, and she watched him, seeing the surprise twinkle in her eyes.

- Kendall? - He repeated, the disbelief evident in his voice.

- I want you to keep him in control. I'll help you deal with it, keep it more... tied to the agreement. But what I need is to know that my role in your structure will be clear and definitive. I'm not someone who submits to uncertainties.

Lukas was silent for a moment, watching her more intensely now. He realized that the conversation was not only about business, but about power and control. Shiv wasn't there to ask for favors, she was negotiating something much more valuable.

- And what do you think I need to know exactly? - Lukas asked, leaning forward. He seemed to want to better understand what was at stake, but something in the way he looked at her said that he was also considering the impact of this for himself.

- Something about Kendall, of course. But also about who he has next to him. You know, his wife is not just another woman in the equation. She's... strategic. Before being Kendall's wife, she already had influence, an influence that is not seen in the media, but that is very real. Politics, maybe. Real power, not this spotlight show you love. And, of course, she was always his right-hand man, helping him get where he got.

Matsson was silent, his expression changing as he assimilated Shiv's words. He tried to connect the pieces, and the surprise soon turned into a smile of recognition.

- I'll make sure Kendall doesn't destroy the agreement. I'll help you keep him on the right track. And in the end, you'll need someone like me to make sure everything goes as planned.

Lukas was silent for a moment, evaluating her, before giving a low laugh, full of understanding.

Lukas let out a short and incredulous laugh, his smile widening.

- Damn, you Roy really hate your own family, don't you? - He said, the sharp sarcasm, but his eyes shining with something darker, almost fascinated.

Shiv tilted his head slightly, an ironic smile touching his lips.

Without saying anything else, she deposited the empty glass on the table with a slight click, keeping her gaze fixed on him for a moment that seemed to last longer than necessary. So, he got up with the calculated grace of those who always know the next move and walked out of the room, leaving Lukas with the trail of his presence and the sound of his jumps echoing in the silent space.

After Shiv's departure, Lukas Matsson remained motionless for a few moments, his gaze fixed on the door she had closed behind him. A slow smile formed on his lips, but it wasn't just satisfaction - it was something deeper, almost voracious. You.

Kendall's wife.

Lukas got up from the couch and walked to the window, the whiskey glass turning in his hand. He stared at his reflection in the glass for a moment, his breathing a little heavier. There was something electric, a mixture of irritation, fascination and a barely disguised excitement.

With a quick movement, he took his cell phone in his pocket and typed his name. In seconds, the information appeared: the first photo showed you next to Kendall at an event, the haugty look, a perfect smile, but distant. He narrowed his eyes, analyzing every detail of the image.

He moved on to the next photo. You alone, greeting some big guy at a formal event. Impeccable posture, wearing power as if it were a second skin. The almost non-existent smile was just enough to comply with the protocol.

A wave of irritation passed through Lukas. How had your team let something so grotesque pass? They had done a thorough research on Kendall and all his surroundings, but they hadn't realized that the person next to him was more than a wife.

Another article caught his attention, and he clicked. Your maiden's last name. Political connections. Zero direct involvement with the media, but an evident reach in other circles of power. Lukas laughed dryly, almost incredulous. You didn't need Waystar to be relevant.

He found another photo. You in a tight dress, walking alone to an event. Every line of his body seemed designed to exude control and elegance. Lukas pressed his lips, his jaw contracting. How did Kendall get someone like that? The thought hit him hard, a mixture of mockery and indignation.

He rested his hand on the bar, the smile on his face now a mixture of contempt and challenge. Kendall, with all her flaws and insecurities, had conquered something that seemed so out of reach. Maybe that was luck. Or maybe it was you.

The heat of the whiskey burned his throat, but it was not enough to relieve the tension that grew in his body. Every detail about you was like a piece of a puzzle that he wanted to assemble. How could someone so strategic, so imposing, be next to someone as pathetic as Kendall?

Leaving his cell phone aside, Lukas leaned back at the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon. You weren't just a challenge.

_______________________________

A/N: Okay, I know we ran over some things here, but I just couldn't contain my obsession, sorry!! 🫠

masterlist

xoxo, bebe🫶🏼💕

[ivystoryweaver]

My Masterlist

@ivy-just-my-fics

Sometimes I'm searching people's blogs for their stories (I know that's what a masterlist is for). BUT sometimes, I just want to scroll a blog of stories. So I made one, mostly for my organization, but just in case anyone wanted to know!

Feel free to follow if you want. It's similar to @ivystoryupdates, but rather than notifying you of each and every update including polls, thots, etc. it's just a fic archive that isn't clogged with the other fandom stuff and reblogs.

All of my stories are loaded there! Everything is tagged by character and fandom, so you can easily search.

[steven-grants-world]

My boy, Shiv...oh, how I love him 🤤❤

Dark Room, Corner Booth (Shiv x F! reader)

Warning: smut under the cut, thigh riding, public, Alcohol consumption, reader wearing a skirt.

Words: 530

It was dark in the club, which was the point. Shiv didn’t want anyone to see, he hadn’t exactly been in the best graces with Tusk lately and all he wanted was some peace and quiet with his girl. After they grab drinks Shiv takes her to the farthest darkest corner of the club, plopping down on the couch and dragging her down on his lap. She giggles, holding onto the collar of his leather jacket as he holds her hips.

“Pretty good spot huh?” He gives her that sweet smile, the one that gives her butterflies in her stomach and makes her heart skip a beat.

“It’s perfect.” She whispers as she runs her fingers over his slicked back hair affectionately. He practically purred at her touch. His dark eyes scan her, looking over her body as he grabs his drink taking a sip. They enjoy the music, the closeness. Once their empty glasses are set aside, Shiv returns his hands to her hips, pressing his thumbs into her flesh, loving the feeling of her under his fingertips. She situates herself on his thigh, grabbing at his jacket again to steady herself as she starts to move back, and forth, eyes half lidded with pleasure as she feels the friction through the damp fabric covering her needy cunt. Shiv looks up at her slightly surprised, they’ve never done anything like this, in public. He takes a glance over her shoulder to see that no one was even aware they were over there. He lets out a sigh of relief, he runs his hands up her back, pulling her closer as she rides his thigh, pressing his lips to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses along her sensitive skin, drawing soft moans from her lips.

“That’s it baby. Who do you belong to huh? Whose making you feel good?” Shiv softly growls in her ear.

“Y-you Shiv. F-fuck…it you, always you.” She whimpers, rubbing her clit on the rough texture of his jeans, soaking the fabric as she chases her high.

“Mmm, that’s right baby girl, I’m the one who makes you feel like this, no other man can make you feel this good right? Just me.” Shiv puts his hand on the back of her neck holding her in place before catching her lips in his, licking into her mouth as she whines in desperation. She keeps rocking her hips on his thigh, squeezing her thighs tight around his as she feels the knot in her stomach wind tighter and tighter. Shiv’s other hand on her ass, pulling at the tiny skirt she wore, feeling his own arousal pushing against his jean zipper. He groans into the kiss as he feels her wet juices seeping through his pants leg. He digs his nails into her ass guiding her back and forth, taking her further and further until, she felt the snap of the rope breaking, releasing her climax in hot waves along her body. Shiv swallowing her moans as she clung to him. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her. Right then right there… where everyone could see, she was his, and He was hers. 

~

Masterlist

Tag: @silver-night-m

[bullseyegoon]

you just had to be there……..

[killerkendallroy]

PROLOGUE

BUYING SILENCE

NEW MONEY: A ROMAN ROY X READER SERIES

MASTERLIST WORD COUNT: 5k

“I don’t think ‘hesitation’ is the right word,” you say, your voice drier than you’d expected. You didn’t mean for it to sound bitter, but it slips out like venom through a cracked lip. “I said no.”

Warnings: Succession canon themes including but not limited to: Mentions of SA in the cruises scandal, marijuana, swearing, corporate jargon, etc.

Authors Note: Ahhh finally posting the prologue of my Succession fic !!! Hopefully y’all like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This one is a little action-less as it’s establishing backstory and setting up the rest of the fic but let me know what you think in the comments!

The cold in upstate New York wasn't as brutal as his hometown of Toronto, but the temperature inside Greg Hirsch's beat up Mitsubishi rental car would fool any Canadian they were back home. He had the heating set to the highest temperature possible as he drove from his roadside motel to the BrightStar Adventure Park through the early morning fog. Despite the bass in his speakers rumbling from the radio and whatever volume he’d turned the music up to, the vibration of the cracked plastic slats in the air vents always seemed to be just that little bit louder. He mumbled the melody of the song gently whilst he parked a healthy distance from the theme park's entrance. He knew that what he was about to do could be quite unsavoury to any potential witnesses.

Reaching into his pocket Greg pulls out a small box and a slender pipe, which resembled a standard tobacco cigarette to the untrained eye. He scooped up some of the pre-chopped marijuana from the box, gently pushed it into the pipe with his finger and placed the metal stick between his lips. A sense of dread filled Greg as he leant his head back against the car seat — the last thing he wanted to do at this ungodly hour of the morning was to be surrounded by screaming children and sycophantic corporate drones.

Fucking management training. What a joke.

With a few clicks of his lighter, he guarded the flame with his free hand and took a few short puffs to start. He felt the smoke venture its way down into his lungs as he inhaled deeply, before the tingling sensation of the weed scratched at his throat once he exhaled. Smoke wafted delicately throughout his car, swirls of pale grey dancing around his head as he hummed the melody of whatever radio chart topper was playing when he pulled up.

Driving into the parking lot and stopping just a stones throw away from the entrance, you hopped out of your Uber. Pulling your long winter coat tighter around your body to fend off the icy wind, you thanked the driver again for stopping at a drive-thru so you could get coffee. Five stars. You promised. Greg watched innocently whilst taking slow drags of his pipe, observing you sip from your takeaway coffee cup as you stood quietly with a few other ‘future managers’. Almost using the drink as an excuse to not have to talk to anyone else around you. Smart move, he would’ve done the same thing.

You looked young. Around his age, maybe slightly older. Greg wasn’t great at picking people’s ages (especially women) but you were obviously closer to 30 than the rest of the program’s cohort who were easily pushing above the 40 mark.

He rolled his heavy head to the side as he noticed movement in his peripheral vision. More and more cars were arriving to the previously desolate car park, prompting him to check his phone for the time. Realising he had just seven minutes before the session started, he rushed to smoke the remaining dregs of his weed and coughed out the smoke as he quickly leant over the passenger seat to retrieve his backpack. As he pushed the car door open quickly, a gust of the brisk air hit his face, causing a shiver to run up his spine and an involuntary ‘fuck’ to slip from his lips at how cold it was outside.

Climbing out of the drivers seat, he slung each of the backpack straps over his shoulders and waved his hands haphazardly around him in attempts to flush the thick smoke out of the car. It was only until the completion of his smoking that he realised two things: the first being he most certainly could not smoke inside a rental car, and the second was that he had forgotten about the McDonalds hash brown he ordered on the way there sitting idly in the paper bag. Greg quickly held the now lukewarm hash brown between his teeth, pulled the hood of his green anorak jacket over his head and jogged across the lot to join them.

He approached the turnstiles with his corporate access pass and inspected it to determine which direction it should be inserted. All the while holding the hash brown in between his teeth. Fumbling to stick the paper ticket into the metal slot, he huffed as the machine spat the ticket back out for being entered backwards.

Groaning to himself, he took a bite of the hash brown and pulled it away from his mouth, "Fuck, why can't- Why can't it just work both ways?"

His tall slender build pushed past the silver turnstile and he sighed in relief. He’d only gotten lucky with inserting the ticket the right way up two out of the five days this week. And it was only the first of six dreaded weeks.

“Five days here and you still haven’t figured it out?” You smiled playfully.

Looking up at you all flustered from the fact you’d watched him struggle with the ticket, he simply just smiled and shrugged in response. You’d waited for him. How kind. “It’s just- We’re one of the biggest companies in the world. Why are we still using old-school turnstiles? Why can’t we scan a QR code or something?” He groaned.

“Should suggest that as an idea, future leader,” you laugh, noticing his glassy red eyes. “Are you…” you trail before pinching your finger and thumb together near your mouth to insinuate he was high.

“Huh? No, I just- I’m still waking up. Super tired from this crazy busy first week, y’know.”

You nodded slowly, not believing a word he was saying. You knew a stoner when you saw one. “Sneaky wake and bake, I respect it. Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out.”

His eyes widen, “Wait, what? Shit, is it really that obvious?”

You shake your head and tell him it’s just because you were up close and knew what signs to look for. He took the last bite of his hash brown and gave you a close mouthed smile, chewing the pretty much cold-now potato.

"Breakfast of champions right? Weed and greasy fast food…" He smiled, pulling the back of his hood down before you both entered the building.

Like the previous few days, you both walked into the foyer, picked up your name tag, pinned it to your jackets and stood around for fifteen minutes as the trainers waited for everyone to arrive. Greg liked that you weren’t as 'corporate-y' as the rest of the training cohort, that you didn't whip your figurative business dick out to compare sizes with everyone as they competed for attention. Everyone seemed like they were desperate puppies begging for cheap praise from trainers who were probably paid much less than all of them. Greg was possibly the only person in the room who didn't want to be there, but at least he had you to commiserate with.

A wall-mounted television played a dated corporate video on loop, explaining the basic overview of Waystar Royco, the parent company in which they were all a part of. Logan Roy, the nearly 80 year old media magnate introduced his conglomerate, his fervent yet icy voice echoing through the tinny speakers. The Roy family held somewhat of a monopoly over multiple different industries. In Waystar’s eyes, they basically controlled the news in the United States and across international borders; the information that society had access to, and what information they didn't. Unless you were a snowflake who watched PGN. They were America’s largest cruise line, but when it came to theme parks, those happy-go-lucky mousey fucks had them beat. Fucking Disney.

"Waystar Royco is a family. A family that spans 4 continents, 50 countries and 3 divisions. Entertainment, news and resource," narrated Logan Roy.

You try to hide your yawn by turning towards Greg's shoulder, holding your hand over your mouth politely as he stifled a chuckle. Starting an early morning with a boredom inducing video narrated by an old man wasn't your preferred way to wake up and neither was his. Especially when it played on loop every fucking morning. Throughout the week you’d had shared a plethora of sarcastic quips with each other about how thrilling this training was, both of you in allegiance knowing how cringy this all was.

His second eldest child, Kendall Roy, appeared on screen next speaking obviously from a script on a teleprompter with a chilling stare down the barrel of the camera. He was in his late thirties, yet held himself like a sixty year old congressman, a cold, jaded and bluntly direct man. Zero on-screen personality. Greg drifted in and out of focus, leaning back in his chair as he watched the final scene of the training video: a group of hired extras dressed in suits jumping up in the air and yelling the slogan "feel it" with forced excitement.

“I’d kill to be a fly on the wall at one of their family dinners,” you mumbled to Greg under your breath.

Greg chuckled nervously, “Ha, yeah…”

For the previous few days of sessions and training modules, the cohort of managers-to-be had completed a myriad of cheaply printed pages of role play scenarios, basic questionnaires and mock presentations. The first week heavily focused on customer facing hands-on training to understand the "heart and soul of Brightstar" — mostly through the degreasing act of making their employees don various mascot suits.

The six weeks of training were always hosted at one of the several BrightStar Adventure Parks in the country. Waystar had invested most of the parks funding into the international locales, so the theme parks in North America were starting to look a little worse for wear. It was torturous, really. The only perk was getting to attend an all expenses paid 3 day cruise to the Bahamas on completion. You’d taken a bunch of their cruises as rewards for being a top performer in your office, for smashing your KPI’s and winning various awards. It wasn’t all that exciting for you but hey, you’d take the extra days off and the free all-you-can-drink package.

Greg had been coaxed into signing up for the management training program by his mother in attempts to 'get his life together'. Much to his dismay, he agreed to fly to upstate New York for the next available course, kindly paid for and organised by his Uncle Ewan. There were two arms of the Waystar Royco Management Training Program; either Entertainment and Leisure or Print and Broadcast Media. You and Greg were in the Entertainment and Leisure program, which had cohorts of about 50 people twice a year.

If you worked for ATN or any of the traditional media arms of the business you would be enrolled in the latter biennial program which only accepted 20 executives for each cohort. It was dubbed the ‘boring’ track because it was so heavily corporate and lasted 12 weeks instead of 6 but they got to travel internationally. That’s why they only ran it once every two years.

Instead of sitting in an old seminar room in Buffalo, the executives started their training in New York City at Waystar Royco’s headquarters, where ATN, NCN and LNN were based as well as their top domestically run newspapers; The Correspondant and The NY Globe. That was about 5 weeks. Then they’d fly up to Canada to do a week out of the Journal Quebecois office before flying across to Europe for an additional 6 weeks. You saw on LinkedIn that last years cohort went to the Les Temps de Paris office in France, then the Deutschland Heute office in Germany and finished in London at the London Journal office.

Lucky bastards.

"Good morning, my smart and capable superstars! And happy Friday!" Chimed one of your instructors enthusiastically. "Congratulations on almost finishing your very first week of management training. We've learnt the theory, so now let's put those skills to the test!"

She explained that after they watched a quick introductory video, each of you could line up outside in the next room to collect your assigned character costume. She also insisted that the day would be 'fun' and an 'enlightening experience' for them all, yet her pep talk failed to inspire the group to share her excessive enthusiasm.

"Are we all ready to give these kids the best day of their lives?!" The management coach grinned, advising the group that they could now collect their costumes. Greg was one of the last to stand up, slumped in his seat as he stared into oblivion. However, he snapped out of his daze when the instructor clicked her fingers in his direction, bringing him back to reality.

"Hey, are you in the room?" She smiled politely.

"Yeah, yeah I'm just, still waking up. Big week, lots of learning," he stuttered, standing up and joining the rest of the group in line.

One of the theme park employees pulled a large brown animal suit from the rack and passed it over to Greg, apologising that it was the only costume that could accommodate his staggering 6'7" height. He nodded gently and thanked the woman before she caught him turning on his heel.

"Don't forget the head!" She trilled, holding out an oversized dog head that accompanied his costume. In his head, Greg had thought he did a good job at holding back a disappointed groan as he walked back to the benches but the amused face on your face proved otherwise.

"Ha-ha, laugh it up. What'd you get?" He sighed, sitting down and kicking his shoes off.

"I have to make sure you don't trip over a trash can or fall into a lake or something," you joked, holding up the familiar orange Brightstar staff polo shirt and khaki pants.

"What? Are you shitting me? I- How come you get to escape the torture?" Greg whined, looking down at the inevitably heavy and claustrophobic suit he'd been given: Doderick the Dog.

"No, no I don't escape anything. I'll be wearing one of those dumb things later this afternoon don't you worry," you laughed.

Once dressed and semi-adjusted to the restricted vision and lack of fresh air from the costume head, Greg followed her through the park. He yawned as he began waving to the various squealing children excited to meet their favourite talking dog. Approaching a group of eager kids Greg stopped for photo opportunities, parents beaming ear to ear as they encouraged their kids to stand next to the dehydrated, sleep deprived and still heavily stoned man in the suit.

As the younger kids waved goodbye to Doderick, another group of slightly older children decided to throw their small fists towards Greg, hurling their plastic toy swords into his side and swinging plush toys at his torso. As disoriented as he felt already in the suit, spinning to try and face the children directly deemed a harder task that he initially anticipated. His field of vision was restrained to the large cartoon eyes of his costume, which felt like using binoculars without the zoom. The children laughed at his despair whilst deciding to pull his arms in a clockwise direction, spinning him around despite your polite efforts to make them stop.

"Fuck- Get off me! Stop!" Greg groaned underneath the suit, his words barely audible from the amount of material shielding his face.

Despite the very strict rule that staff were not allowed to have their personal phones whilst on duty, you pulled out your phone and started filming before sliding it subtly into the front pocket of your pants. You knew that after this all ended, Greg would laugh at the fact he was getting tackled by small kids in a god damn dog outfit.

He grew dizzier with every spin, the effects of his breakfast marijuana coming back to bite him in the ass as he grew nauseous. The sickness became overwhelming and the faint feeling in his head consumed him before he realised what was happening. Suddenly, vomit burst from his mouth and splattered against the inside of his costume.

The kids around him screamed in horror as their beloved pooch Doderick had warm bile spraying out from his eyeballs, the thin mesh of the costume allowing vomit to escape at an immense force. You hurried to his side as he fell onto his hands and knees, vomit still flowing from the dogs head.

As security guards swarmed around Greg, his state of delirium still prevalent, they lifted his limp body. You followed behind with concern, telling a young girl that Doderick had been fed some out of date kibble and that they had to take him to the vet to get better. Nice save, you thought. Greg groaned as the security guards took him back indoors to the locker rooms to finally unzip the head from his costume.

"Jesus Christ," one of the men said in disgust, looking at poor disheveled Greg hunched over. The other guard passed him a bottle of water from the staff fridge, whilst their training instructor came over in a flustered hurry.

Requesting that you continue your shift in a different area of the park, the instructor smiled and thanked you for helping remove Greg from the public eye in his current state. The number one rule at theme parks was to never de-head your costume in front of children. As you waved goodbye to Greg and wished him a speedy recovery, you heard their instructor sympathise for him.

You found herself standing in front of one of the many theme park maps plastered along winding pathways after being instructed to support a different management trainee named Phil who was dressed as 'Dirk the Turkey' on the other side of the park. Quickly you pulled out your phone and looked around for the closest bathroom, knowing that theme park staff weren't allowed to be seen on their phones. You darted into a cubicle and locked the door behind you, sitting on top of the closed toilet seat to check the footage you’d gotten of Greg. Skimming through the video, you found the point where Greg was taken away and cropped it to the juicy part.

It was shaky, the camera often in awkward angles given the position of your phone but on the whole, you had captured the sidesplittingly hilarious footage of Greg throwing up out of Doderick's eyes and being escorted away by security. You chuckled to yourself as you locked your phone again and left the cubicle, washing your hands chuckling to yourself.

This would totally go viral on the internet.

6 WEEKS LATER

Sitting in a meeting room across from a stranger in an expensive business suit didn’t feel completely unfamiliar to you, but the reason for today’s meeting was wildly new and uncomfortable. His expression was unreadable, protected behind thinly veiled corporate diplomacy as he sat in silence. He’d introduced himself only as ‘Sam’, thanked you for coming and sat across from you at the table without uttering another word. He barely even moved a muscle. He simply just watched you. It was unsettling really, sitting without so much as a laptop or a phone to distract you. He didn’t seem to be the type for small talk or pleasantries, and rightfully so — there was nothing pleasant about the subject of today’s meeting.

“We’re just waiting on one more,” he says calmly, conscious that you were bouncing your leg under the table from nerves.

From a distance you heard shoes clicking on the marble floor behind you like a metronome counting down to the inevitably unpleasant shit show. The door slides open and you stand to shake the woman’s hand. She was older, maybe in her 60’s and dressed immaculately in a sleek black blazer, white blouse and a skirt that matched the jacket. Expensive, but not performative. Classy.

“Gerri Kellman, General Counsel. Thank you for meeting with me today,” she says smoothly, sliding into a chair next to you. The man you’d previously sat with quietly stands, and leaves the room without so much as a goodbye.

What the fuck, you thought. Why was that Sam guy even there in the first place? Talk about a glorified babysitter, you wondered how much he got paid to sit and stare at people if he had a Rolex and a suit that cost more than your rent. Jesus.

Gerri clears her throat, her tone clipped and sharp. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?” She asks, and you shake your head. You knew that putting anything in your stomach right now would just come back up.

You’re not trying to be rude, but it takes conscious effort just to keep your jaw unclenched and sit here without recoiling from her presence. Even though Gerri hasn’t done anything to you. Not directly. Still, her tailored suit and corporate calmness feels like an extension of them. You fold your hands in your lap under the table so she doesn’t see them shaking.

“I understand that prior to today, legal parties acting on behalf of Waystar Royco offered you monetary compensation to sign a non-disclosure agreement. They’ve made me aware of your hesitation to sign, so today I’d like to understand what reservations you might have and see how we can reach a mutually beneficial solution.”

“I don’t think ‘hesitation’ is the right word,” you say finally, your voice drier than you expected. You didn’t mean for it to sound bitter, but it slips out like venom through a cracked lip. “I said no.”

“You declined the first figure,” she corrects, civil yet razor-edged. “Understandable. An offer like that in exchange for brushing your assault under the rug is insulting. I agree.”

You look at her, really look at her this time. The calm mask. The expensive watch and pearl necklace. The expression you’ve seen on a dozen executives’ faces when they’re trying to pretend to be human. And you wonder if she believes a single word she’s saying or if she’s just really fucking good at this. Most likely the latter.

“Thank you for saying that. But with all due respect Ms. Kellman, I’m a little surprised that I’m now meeting with yourself rather than the legal team Waystar previously sent to speak to me.”

“I believe that a case like this… Needs someone of a certain calibre. And naturally that someone would be myself.”

“General counsel,” you whistle, looking at the full glass of water you’ve refused to even sip yet. “They’re sending in the big dogs, huh?”

“Actually, I requested to lead this. I don’t believe a team of testosterone ridden drones would understand the gravitas of what happened to you. They lack the human empathy needed here. And on that note, I’d firstly like to deeply apologise for what happened to you.”

You nod in response, god knows how many executives had uttered those words to you over the past two weeks.

“Genuinely. Woman to woman, reading your previous legal transcripts made me sick to my stomach. Which is why I’ve personally ordered the dismissal of the man responsible, and he’ll be out of Waystar Royco by close of business today.”

You raise an eyebrow, “The lawyers I spoke to earlier said that his termination would need a full investigation to prove he actually assaulted me. Why go in all guns blazing now?”

“Because I believe women.”

“Sure,” you nod. Unconvinced.

“I also read the medical report. There’s no denying you were assaulted.” She pauses, then leans forward slightly. She looks at you like she’s trying to figure out how someone so young pulled off such an advanced play. “Quite frankly, we both know you wouldn’t be sitting here if you weren’t open to a negotiation.”

“Ms. Kellman, I can’t count on both hands how many employees I know by name that have been victims of assault by whilst working at BrightStar. And that’s only during my 6 year tenure. The fact that my manager, a victim of Lester McClintock himself, told me not to come forward about this only speaks to the deep rooted culture of fear and abuse within Waystar.”

Gerri’s lips press into a thin line. Not from discomfort, but from acknowledgment. The name Lester McClintock has an echo effect long after his retirement. You spoke without so much as a single stutter, your expression a masterclass in neutrality matched only by Gerri’s — so she knew your threats were far from empty.

“The cover ups didn’t magically stop because Bill took over in the early 2000’s and cleared out the old guard. They just got quieter. So I imagine the last thing either of us want is to see those crimes see the light of day on the Senate floor. And trust me, it wouldn’t be hard for me to do.”

“I’m not unaware of your political connections,” She says clearing her throat and crossing one leg over the other in her chic tailored skirt. “Your father is one of the longest serving Senators in the country and his support and allegiance to ATN does not go unnoticed. I’d even go as far to say he’d be proud of how you’re holding yourself today, standing your ground.”

Of course she knew about your family. You weren’t a public figure or anything, most people wouldn’t have even known your father had kids at all, but she’d gotten Rat Fucker Sam to run a background check on you. The same Sam who sat with you before, unbeknownst to you. Apart from the fact you were a model employee and couldn’t find anything substantial enough to use as blackmail, Waystar knew they couldn’t treat you like the other victims.

You were a real person in their eyes, which made you a highly complicated case. Far too complicated to outsource to an external legal team, that’s for sure. Which is exactly why Gerri came to Florida to meet with you personally.

The threat of a public scandal tied to an already morally corrupt cruise division? With a high-profile political tie-in? A senator’s daughter exploited by the same machinery they’ve worked so hard to bury, well fuck. That’s not a stain they could wash out of the media cycle. That was a goddamn reckoning.

“I reviewed your counter offer, and I have to say I’m surprised you stipulated wanting to stay employed at Waystar...” Gerri says before narrowing her eyes slightly. “You had some pretty damning things to say about the company just now.”

You laugh to yourself, “What’s that line our PR team always preaches? Blame the individual, not the corporation?”

She chuckles before settling into a calculated yet comfortable silence. It’s thick though. The kind that proves she knows you’re not bluffing.

“I’m not going to insult you with another counter that wastes either of our time. We’re prepared to give you compensation for emotional damages, the transfer to New York and a promotion within Parks and Cruises. We’ll also provide a relocation fee to help you settle in, a rental subsidy for the first three years and a clause in your employment contract that guarantees security against non-performance based dismissal.”

There’s something different in her tone now. Not kindness or sympathy, not defeat or fear. It was recognition. Respect from someone who’s watched countless women with far less courage become devoured by the system. You might have come here today as a liability, but you were leaving something much more akin to an asset.

She offers the folder to you. Inside was the finalised NDA, a formal employment contract for your promotion, relocation paperwork, and details around the various legal terms she’d outlined. She takes a deep breath before telling you she’ll be in Florida for 48 hours for you to mull it all over.

You nod slowly, analysing her composure. So precise, so poised, like the deal was already done and she was just delivering the final line in a well-rehearsed monologue. But you’re not nodding in agreement. You’re nodding because, in some twisted way, it’s almost impressive how neatly Waystar has packaged your pain. Bullet points for trauma. Line items for silence.

You lean back slightly, the leather chair creaking under your weight, and you open the folio to the first page of many. You look at the document outline, seeing the relevant sections and take your time flicking through the pages and skimming over the legalities.

She’s not trying to play hardball anymore. She’s not even trying to charm you. She’s offering terms. That’s all this is. A surrender with style. It’s not justice. It never will be. But the fact that they’re offering this much means they know what you could do if you wanted to. If you opened your mouth in the right room, to the right person, with the right name behind you.

“I don’t condone what happened to you, and I don’t like that this is how we fix things here but between you and I, I’m glad you didn’t take their first offer. I’ve seen far too many women in my time crawl away out of fear and a quick buck.”

Her eyes meet yours. Perpetually tired, constantly sharp, yet still sincere in that quiet Gerri Kellman way. She knew you’d sign once you saw how much they were offering you, you’d be a fool to say no.

“Can I just ask, out of curiosity… Why didn’t you lawyer up for this? You’re a smart girl, I thought you’d fight fire with fire.”

You flip through the pages slowly, deliberately. Not to read everything now of course, but to remind her that you’re not someone who could be rushed. Even though she’d said she was only in Florida for 48 hours. But you didn’t have to give her answer by then, she was just staying in town out of hope you’d sign quickly. Each turn of the page was a silent assertion that you weren’t afraid of escalating this though. You knew they couldn’t buy your silence as easily as the other victims, you were simply deciding whether their offer was enough to stay quiet.

“People only hire lawyers out of convenience or fear. They hire professionals to take care of the shit they don’t want to deal with, or to handle the shit they’re scared of. But I’m not scared. This is between me and Waystar.”

Finally, you close the folio, fingers resting lightly on the cover. You don’t smile. You don’t thank her. You just meet her gaze with the same calm detachment she once reserved for you.

“I’ll let you know.”

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO TAGLIST

[emma23]

Falling into you part 1 :

Shiv x reader

The first time you met Shiv, your dog ran straight to him, tail wagging like he had just found his long-lost best friend. Shiv, standing in a threadbare leather jacket, hands deep in his pockets, gave your overly enthusiastic mutt a deadpan look before crouching down.

"Your dog has terrible taste," he muttered, scratching behind its ears.

"And you have terrible manners," you shot back, stepping forward. "Sorry about him. He has no sense of personal space."

Shiv looked up at you then, and for a moment, something flickered in his dark eyes. A smirk curled at the edge of his lips.

"He gets it from his owner, I see."

You had half a mind to drag your dog away, but something in the way Shiv held himself—like he was waiting for someone to challenge him, to prove him wrong—kept you rooted in place. You never walked away from a fight, and something told you he never did either.

And just like that, you and Shiv started orbiting around each other.

He was infuriating. Cocky, smooth-talking, and far too good at reading people. But he was also brilliant, funny, and had this ridiculous dream of becoming a musician—something that didn’t fit at all with his sharp edges and street-smart instincts.

You? You made bad decisions. Consistently. Like trusting the wrong people or convincing yourself you weren’t catching feelings for the most aggravating man in Moscow.

It took years for the push and pull to turn into something real. The carnival was his idea for your first date.

"You hate carnivals," you pointed out.

"I hate bad carnivals," he corrected. "This one has good beer."

You ended up staying long after the beer was gone, long after the neon lights dimmed. He won you a cheap stuffed bear at one of the rigged games and got irrationally offended when you laughed at his horrible aim. Somewhere between the rigged games and stolen kisses near the Ferris wheel, Shiv became your person.

His love language was time. He didn’t say things outright, but he showed up. When your landlord was being a nightmare? Shiv sorted it. When you got sick? He brought soup, then complained that he hated sick people. When he had a gig, you were always in the front row, and he always looked for you first.

You loved him, but you never told him. Maybe you thought you had time.

Then everything went to hell.

You woke up in a hospital bed, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. Your head throbbed, and everything felt…wrong.

A man sat beside you, his hands gripping his knees. Dark curls, sharp cheekbones, deep brown eyes. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days.

You squinted at him. "Who…?"

His head snapped up. "You're awake." His voice cracked on the last word.

Your stomach twisted. There was something familiar about him, but the more you tried to grasp it, the more it slipped away.

"I'm sorry, do I… do I know you?"

For a second, his entire body went still.

"You’re joking," he said flatly.

You weren’t.

Panic flickered in his expression, but he masked it quickly. Shiv was good at that—hiding things. You didn’t know how you knew that, but you did.

"You don’t remember me at all?" he asked, voice measured.

You shook your head. "No."

Silence stretched between you. He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

"You don’t even remember the carnival?"

You hesitated. "Carnival?"

Shiv laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"Perfect," he muttered. "Absolutely fucking perfect."

You stared at him, uneasy. "Who are you?"

He looked at you for a long time before answering.

"I’m your bad decision."

And with that, he stood up and walked out the door.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Clandestine. Part Four.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

Chapter Synopsis - Death puts everything into perspective.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female Roy!Reader

Warnings - cursing. lots of talk about grief.

Word Count - 3k

Author’s Note - now I might just be the last person on tumblr still writing for stewy, but I am determined to finish this series. let’s ignore the fact it’s been a year since I updated it, shall we? one more part of this to go!! thank you, if you’re still here for my succession stuff <3

Series Masterlist. Main Masterlist. Inbox.

You’re floating around in a daze.

It’s been a week since Connor’s phone call. A week since the formidable Logan Roy died on the floor of his private plane, surrounded by his closest employees. A week since you’ve seen Stewy.

You’ve been crashing in Roman’s guest room, neither of you wanting to be alone. You go to your Dad’s apartment, have meetings with old white men that all look the same, pop into the office every now and again and go home to your brothers. You were barely speaking to Kendall before all of this happening, never mind now. You can’t remember the last time the two of you said more than three words to each other.

You’re sat at Roman’s dinner table when a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. You watch him picking at his salad for a minute before you say anything.

“Have you… spoke to Kendall? Like, over the last few days?”

Roman looks confused by the question, but doesn’t voice it.

“Yeah, here and there. You guys are in a fight, right?”

“Uh, yeah. We were. I guess we still are. I’m just… worried about him. God knows his mental health has been in the gutter recently anyway, but now Dad’s dead, and… I don’t know. It just can’t end well, right?”

“All we can do is keep an eye on him, I guess. He won’t fucking accept it even if we try and help, so.”

“Yeah.”

You move the chicken around on your plate with your fork, neither of you having much of an appetite recently.

“So, you never told me what your fight was about. It all seems like this big ass fucking secret that only Roman doesn’t know about.”

You’re a little taken aback by Romans candour. Usually he’s pretty avoidant, happy to live with the not knowing. He’s done with that, apparently.

“You’re not the only one that doesn’t know, Rome. Ken is the only one that does.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why? Why does everyone include Kendall in everything and leave me on the fucking sidelines? Why am I always the one who doesn’t get the joke, who doesn’t know the secret?”

“Rome-”

“I know he’s your favourite, but Jesus. You could at least try and include me sometimes.”

“Roman.”

“What?”

“Kendall only ‘knows the secret’ because he… walked in on the secret. Not because I sought him out and told him, or anything like that. I promise.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

With what has happened over the past week, your perspective on almost everything has changed. Keeping your secret is no longer top priority - or priority at all. You’re realising that you don’t care, because it doesn’t matter. Not much really matters.

“I’m in love with Stewy.”

Roman’s silent for a moment, processing.

“Hosseini?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, Rome. Hosseini. Do you know any other Stewys?”

He shakes his head, still visibly confused.

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

“Oh. Oh. Yeah, um… he already knows. We - we’re in love. With each other. We’re dating.”

“You’re dating him?”

“That’s crazier than me being in love with him one sided?”

“Uh, yeah.”

You chuckle, looking at him for a moment before a grin breaks out across his face. He’s always been the most easy going of your brothers, the most understanding. You’ve always felt a comfort in talking to Roman - he’s more open minded than he appears. He’s a surprisingly good listener, even when you think your problems are trivial or stupid.

“For how long?”

“Fuck, I don’t even know. Two years, give or take?”

“Two years?”

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? I’m mad impressed, Princess. I didn’t think you’d be able to keep a big secret like that from me for that long.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

You’re suddenly vulnerable, terrified that your big brother is going to think less of you. Your brothers are all you have, all you’ve ever had. The four of you learned to survive with each other, with no help from parents or nannies or any kind of adult. You have nothing if you don’t have your brothers.

“I don’t hate you, dummy. I could never hate you.”

You stand up and make your way over to him, perching on his leg like you used to when you were kids. You wrap your arms around his neck, exhaling when he wraps his around your middle.

“Love you, Rome,” you whisper. “Even if you are a pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, love you too,” he murmurs. “Even if you do keep important secrets from me.”

“I promise I won’t keep anything from you ever again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Promise. No more secrets.”

You pull back but stay sat on his lap, feeling six years old again, taking solace in the presence of your big brother.

“So Kendall… walked in on you?”

“He saw us leaving the gala together and got suspicious. He showed up at Stewy’s apartment the next morning, banging on the door and asking where I was.”

“Oh shit,” he laughs.

“It’s not funny,” you retort, but you’re holding back your giggles as you do it.

“And I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

“Not at all. He was cycling between yelling and swearing and then sitting really quietly just… staring into space. Then he got personal, which was expected, but that pissed Stewy off, so the whole thing got awkward again. It was… horrendous.”

“He’s horrible at feelings.”

“Says Mr Communication over here.”

He shoves you off his lap, chuckling when you slide onto the floor. You punch him in the arm as you get up, returning to your original seat. You sit in silence for a moment, neither of you quite sure how to continue.

“What now?”

“I… don’t know, Rome. I just don’t know.”

“I mean, the world hasn’t stopped spinning. Maybe it feels like it has for us, but everyone else has carried on.”

You’re confused by your brother’s sudden wisdom, until it clicks for you.

He’s free.

Sure, he’s grieving. You all are. But he’s lighter. Laughs a little easier. Gives out advice quicker.

He’s free.

You all are.

The shackles your father had placed on all four of you are broken. You are no longer bound to him or Waystar or his insane ideals as to what family should be or do or say.

“I need to get out.”

“What?” Roman asks as he cocks his head, quirking a brow at you in curiosity.

“I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. This… constant cycle of destruction and deception and stabbing people in the back. It won’t stop now that Dad’s dead. It’s the very foundation that his business is built on.”

“So you’re gonna… leave?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna sell my shares and I’m gonna get the fuck out.”

Roman laughs, now, all big and bold and beautiful. You don’t know what’s funny, but you can’t help but laugh with him.

“I am too.”

“Wait… what?”

“I’m doing the same.”

“Roman.”

“I’m serious. I don’t know who CEO is gonna be, but it isn’t gonna be me. It’ll be Kendall or Tom or someone completely different, but we all know neither you or I are capable.”

“Jeez. Thanks.”

“You’re telling me you could run the entire Waystar business?”

You roll your eyes, kicking him under the table.

“Obviously I fucking couldn’t. But at least pretend to have a little bit more faith in me.”

Your brother chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

“We’re not built for it, you and me. We’re meant for something different. Something better, Princess.”

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

“What about Kendall?”

“What about him?”

“I feel like we’re… abandoning him.”

Rome looks solemn, suddenly, thinking about your older brother.

“He’ll come around, you know. And he’ll understand. That’s the thing about Kendall - he can’t hold a grudge to save his life. He tries, but he can’t.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, lump in your throat choking any words that try to escape.

“Hey, hey,” Roman soothes as he walks over, standing above you.

He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away your sadness.

“He loves you more than anything, you know.”

You shake your head, so your brother doubles down.

“He does. You’ve always been his favourite. He’d do anything for you - anything at all. He’s mad because you and Stewy kept a secret from him, not because you’re together. Trust me.”

“He looked at me that day like he hated me.”

“He couldn’t hate you if he tried. He’s just… emotionally unavailable. Everyone knows this.”

“I miss him,” you whisper, lip trembling. “I miss my brother.”

You’re taken aback by how much you miss Kendall, suddenly. You miss him so much more than you miss Logan, or your Mom.

“Give him time. That’s all he needs. He misses you, I know he does. But you know what he’s like when he feels betrayed. He shuts down and gets all aggressive.”

You look up at Roman, gentle smile making its way onto your face.

“When did you get so smart, huh?”

“I’ve always been smart,” he laughs. “Everyone underestimates me.”

“That they do.”

“Well, not anymore. We’re getting out.”

“We’re getting out,” you repeat, finally allowing yourself to feel happiness at the prospect. “We’re gonna get the fuck out.”

“Talk to Stewy about selling your shares and let me know what he says. The sooner, the better.”

“I will. I’m excited, Rome. The world is our oyster.”

“Me too,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. “We’ll go to the funeral, and then we’ll never have to see any of those assholes ever again.”

“I can’t wait to not have to look at Karl’s stupid fucking face every day.”

Roman keels over laughing, wheezing as he clutches his stomach. You’re crying with laughter too, both of you lighter and freer than you’ve ever been.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You sure about this, Rome?”

“One hundred percent.”

You hug him tightly as you say goodbye, smiling when he presses a kiss into your hair.

“I’ll let you know what Stewy says tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Princess. Call me if you need anything.”

“You too. Anything.”

He ruffles your hair before sending you on your way, waiting at the front door to watch you go.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“Stewy? You home?”

You drop your bags by the front door, kicking off your shoes and jacket as you do it. You’re about to yell again when he comes running around the corner, sliding across the wood floors in his socks.

“Baby.”

He breathes it, as if he can’t believe you’re really standing in front of him again.

“Missed you, Hosseini.”

You fly into his arms, burying yourself as deep as you can in his chest. His old, worn t shirt is soft and grey and smells like the love of your life and all of his memories spent at home. He tightens his grip on you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“How are you?” he asks without letting go, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I’m okay. I’m good, actually. Really good.”

“Yeah?”

Now he pulls away to look at you, confused by the sudden change of heart. When you left to go to Roman’s a week ago, you were a shell of a woman, a little girl without a dad. Now, you’re back, brighter and more alive than ever.

“Yeah.”

You look at him, really look at him, for a moment, before taking a deep breath and saying the words you’ve been dying to say.

“Marry me, Stewy.”

He staggers back as if you’ve hit him, eyes blown wide.

“W-what?”

“Marry me.”

He inhales, exhaling shakily before stepping forward to cradle your face in his hands.

“Aren’t I supposed to be asking you that?”

“Maybe,” you laugh. “But I guess I got there first.”

“Honey, forgive me if I’m a little confused, but… you just came back after being gone for a week because your dad died and now you’re… proposing?”

“Me and Roman are leaving Waystar,” you explain. “We’re selling our shares and getting the fuck out.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Really. The only thing stopping me from leaving years ago was the fear of disappointing my dad, and now he’s gone. So… there’s nothing keeping me there. I wanna do something else. Something for me.”

“Yeah?”

He’s grinning, beaming at you from ear to ear. Light is practically pouring from him, radiating in all directions.

“Yeah,” you half yell, leaning up to press an excited kiss to his lips. “I’m done, Stewy. I’m free.”

He picks you up, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you spin. You shriek with laughter, the world blurring as it whizzes past you. Eventually he puts you down, both of you breathless.

“Life’s too short. I need to start living it.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you so much. More than anything.”

You kiss him tenderly, gentle and sweet and filled with so much adoration.

“So, back to my original question…”

“Wait,” he interrupts, halting your speech. “Let me do this the right way.”

With that, he runs off towards the bedroom, leaving you stood in the hallway as confused as ever. You wait patiently, desperate to be privy to his plans.

When he returns, still in his pyjamas, he kisses you softly before getting down on one knee, ring box in his hand.

“Honey. You are the love of my goddamn life. I bought this ring after we’d been dating for… three months? Call me crazy, but I knew. I just knew. It was always going to be me and you. Always.”

Your hands are shaking, breath caught in your chest as you try to soak in every second of this moment.

“So…. how do you feel about becoming Mrs Hosseini?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d love more.”

“Is that a yes?”

“The biggest, most sure yes of my entire life. Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes.”

He swoops you up into his arms, kissing you with more passion than you ever thought possible. You slip your tongue into his mouth cheekily, tangling your fingers into his hair to pull him closer as he groans.

You finally pull away for air, both of you panting like you’ve just run a marathon. Your eyes well up suddenly, a tear falling without you realising.

“You okay?” he murmurs, thumbs rubbing circles into your cheekbones.

“I’m so happy,” you whisper. “I feel like today is the first day of the rest of my life.”

“So do I,” he agrees, looking down at you with so much love you it makes your knees buckle. “Baby… if you’re getting out, then I’m getting out.”

“Wait, what?”

“If you want to get out of Waystar, I’m not gonna stay. If you’re washing your hands of it, then I am too.”

“But… your money.”

“Honey, those shares don’t mean shit to me. The only thing that matters is you.”

You look at him intently for a moment, searching for any traces of doubt. All you find is pure adoration.

“Stewy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna keep that ring in the box forever?”

He throws his head back as he laughs, opening the velvet box to show you what’s inside. He slips it onto your finger with ease, the diamond sparkling perfectly on your hand.

“It’s so beautiful. I’m the luckiest person in the world, Mr Hosseini.”

“I think I have to disagree with you there, Mrs Hosseini.”

“Say it again.”

“Mrs Hosseini.”

“And again.”

He kisses you, mumbling against your lips.

“Mrs Hosseini.”

“Mhmm.”

“My wife. The prettiest girl in the world. Mrs Hosseini.”

You can’t help but grin into his mouth, buzzing with the energy of it all.

“Now, I was about to make dinner before you came home, but we can go out and celebrate if you want?”

You shake your head, snaking your arms around his neck.

“All I want right now is a night in with you - that’s all the celebration I need. Let’s make that pasta you like, and then we can watch old sitcom reruns on the couch.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Stewy slides his hand into yours, his thumb playing with the shiny band of the ring on your finger.

“It’s gonna be like this forever, you know. We get to do this for the rest of our lives.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you breathe, resting your head on his shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

As the sun sets through the floor to ceiling windows, you and Stewy dance across the kitchen, slipping and sliding across the tiles.

Your heart skips a beat every time your ring catches the light.

Your heart skips a beat every time you look at your fiancé.

Your heart skips a beat every time you realise that you’re not dreaming.

This is your life. And you’ve never been more excited to live it.

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