#LAST TIME THEY HAD BUBBLES ON STAGE IT WAS A HINT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsahotminuteinbetween · 11 months

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Hey-o, back again with another chapter of that other thing! Apparently people actually liked it? I guess Imma have to start drafting an entire story now...Ah well, it's a good way to pass the time. I already finished the third chapter, I gotta type it up and edit it tho.

Anyways, here's the chapter! We get a peek through the boys' perspective this time...

On with the show!

(Ch 1 is here if anyone wants it)

Word Count: 1, 660

_______

Sun’s smile falls quickly into place as he greets the children, matching his persona of the sweet, bubbly animatronic he was designed to be.

He was quite literally made for the stage, which is why no one ever questioned how smoothly the daycare ran. He wrangled children and entertained them, attending to his charges and keeping the place up to date, organizing itineraries and schedules, effectively (running the place) entirely on his own…with Moon’s help, of course.

He made sure everything was perfect-and it was!-without anyone’s help. So he never could understand why management had hired that nuisance that clearly wasn’t wanted.

Ah, the “Daycare Assistant.” He stole a glance at you, smile faltering to a grimace before he corrected himself, watching you interact with the children. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t let them anywhere near you, but rules were rules.

You apparently felt his eyes on you, because you looked up and gave him a small wave. His eyes narrowed, and he made no move to return it, taking small joy in how you faltered and shrank in on yourself.

They couldn’t wait until your contract expired and they could finally have the place to themselves. Try as they might, they couldn’t find any loopholes in the document, Fazbear made it airtight. They had tried to scare you off and make you quit, but like the bothersome little imp you were, you refused to yield. They had expected Moon’s scare the first few nights to do the trick, but to their surprise, you just came back the next day. His taunts and tricks got nothing but an eye roll and a shrug. Sun kept pushing, making up rules that didn’t exist to no avail: you just went along with the changes and apologized for not knowing.

There was that other thing that baffled them, how you kept trying to worm your way into their good graces. You played nice with the kids, you didn’t argue against their wishes, you apologized for your and their mistakes. You followed them around like a puppy, always desperately eager to please. Couldn’t you get the hint and realize that they wanted nothing to do with you, that your tricks wouldn’t work?

He took another glance out of the corner of his eye, noticing your change in wardrobe. At least it hadn’t been like last time, he’d caught you with earbuds in and a shirt that was not up to dresscode. Still, even with your efforts to make yourself scarce, it wasn’t enough. They knew why management had hired you: to keep an eye on them and report everything, the company’s little spy. You had no right to be here, in their daycare, nosing your way into things and writing little notes to management every shift, commenting on things and picking them apart. No one had asked for your opinion, certainly them, and they didn’t know what management saw in you to value yours over theirs.

(They noted begrudgingly that your comments had yet to say anything against them. It was mostly just recommendations for things or supply requests, little notes about how each day went.)

You did your job, but not well enough. You were absentminded, always staring off into space as if there was something more important to be done. You hung back and left them to do all the work, and even when you actually did what you were paid for, it wasn’t done up to standard. You didn’t play with the kids often, usually hanging back and leaving them to do all the work. Sometimes, you didn’t even show up! They could recall last month, when you had missed two weeks, two whole weeks, of work, citing your excuse to management and asking that it be kept private. They hadn’t detected any issues with your health (except for a slight increase in stress levels and lack of sleep, which would be worrying if they could bring themself to be concerned about the likes of you), so whatever excuse you’d given was probably invalid. And you left the daycare during work hours often, despite having the whole hour of naptime off, which you’d never used no matter how much they wished you would.

Speaking of naptime, the lights cut, and Moon comes out, quickly settling the children in. He selects a story from the shelves and spins a tale for them to drift off to. Soon enough, the air fills with soft, whistling snores and wafting lullaby notes in the comfortable silence.

For a moment, everything is right.

Unfortunately, it’s interrupted by a certain someone.

A shame, really, that you insisted on staying. He was so sure you’d tire of it eventually and just out like every employee had thus far, and yet here you were, back just to spite him.

No matter. He would find a crack in your facade eventually, and he’d watch you break.

He was content with just bugging you for now, finding the little chinks in your armor and chipping away at them, trivial as they were. You were quite fun to mess with, though he wished you’d give a proper reaction.

He stands up, calling his tether and launching into the air, scanning the daycare in search of you. As usual, you’re at the desk, eyes trained on its surface with a dim look, like you were seeing through it, beyond the dimly lit room.

Carefully descending from the ceiling so as not to alert you, Moon sets two hands on the chair.

Nothing.

Without warning, he jerks the chair and swivels it harshly to face him, prompting a sharp inhale as you stiffen, tensing at the sight of him. He snickers, and you catch yourself, forcing your shoulders to lower. You give him a questioning look. “Hi, Moon. Need something?”

You sounded bored. That wouldn’t do. He resists the urge to roll his eyes and scoff, instead turning his faceplate slowly with a mocking grin. “Just waiting.”

Predictably, you tilt your head and ask, “For what?”

His grin grows wider, and he quickly snatches your bag and shoots back up to the ceiling, just out of your reach but still clearly visible as he begins to rifle through your belongings.

You make a little sound of protest but don’t voice your annoyance, just watching him examining its contents with mild irritation, standing up and crossing your arms.

So he tries harder to rile you up and provoke you, taking more things out and messing with them before tossing them onto the floor half-hazardly.

That seems to do the trick. Your eyes narrow slightly, lips pursed in restraint. You sigh and shoot him a tired glare. “Moon, can I please have my stuff back?”

He only chuckles, rummaging through the bag full of all sorts of things. You always made sure to take particularly good care of your things, which made it all the more easier to get on your nerves. Wire earbuds are pulled apart to an uncomfortable length before being discarded, along with a book he skimmed through. Knowing it was yours made him feel less guilty about stretching out the spine and dog-earing a page or two, especially with the satisfaction of watching you hold back your anger under your well-placed facade when he crumpled a couple.

Still nothing from you outside of your repeated request for your things back.

He plucked your phone out, dangling it from a dangerous height to scare you before slipping it into his pocket and ‘confiscating’ for the day with the small declaration of “Mine now,” at your indignant look. His eyes landed on a small notebook, and he picked it up, weighing his options of whether he should open it or not, not noticing the way you tensed when he reached for it.

His thoughts were interrupted when you tried to swipe out of his hands, having gathered up the rest of your things. “Come on, Moon, give it back.”

Oh? How interesting…He shook his head with feigned apology, dangling it away from you but not opening it. “Sorry, security protocol gives me authorization to check luggage if I’m detecting suspicious behavior.”

You both knew that it didn’t apply in this situation, but he knew you hated confrontation almost as much as he liked pulling rank. You reluctantly allowed him to continue his unwarranted search (as usual).

Satisfied with having aggravated you, he took his leave, content with his minor torment. He returned to the children, watching his work pay off.

__________________________

You survey the damage. He’d been relatively tame with it today. You recall the last time he did a search. You’d had to buy new headphones and tape a couple things together, not to mention being locked out of your apartment until he graciously returned the keys he’d ‘borrowed’.

You ran your hand over your book, grimacing at the creases. You’d just bought it, needing something to do during the hour of naptime after having been banned from using your phone, which currently sat in Moon’s pocket.

(You realized you’d need to ask Sun for that afterwards.

Great.)

Technically, you could go on break during naptime, it was the given block of free time management had provided for lunch. The issue with that was leaving your things here, with a certain someone who had a knack for making your stuff disappear.

So no leaving the daycare, which meant doing absolutely nothing for what felt like an eternity. You’d considered sleeping like the children, but you didn’t trust them not to pull something.

Your stomach growls, crying out for food, and you wince. Right. No break meant no lunch. You’d tried eating in here once, only to be stopped by Moon, who claimed that food with unknown substances wasn’t permitted because of the children’s allergies.You hadn’t had breakfast this morning either, but that’s alright. You’d make up for it afterwards. You just had to survive for three more hours…

Aaand that's a wrap! Hope that was up to standard, I'm still trying to figure out how to make the dialogue more tense, sorry. Moon's teasing here is a lot less drastic than it usually is, but it still annoys MC because it they have a certain order that things need to be in. I did base y/n heavily off of myself, as this was more of a personal thing before I decided to make it a fic. But yeah, the boys are kinda just assholes for now. It'll get better eventually, although I do need to figure out how not to rush the plot too fast...

Third chapter'll be out in a couple days, maybe? I don't like submitting what I have without having something else prepared, so it's gonna be on pause until I start the fourth one. The third is...not to my liking, but we'll see.

Also thanks for reading, I do appreciate the comments :) Criticism and suggestions are also welcome, as I am new to this whole thing.

#sorry to bother #don't mind me #moon x reader #sun x reader #fnaf dca x reader #i dunno how to tag this am I doing it right????#I'm so scared I'll find a typo or somethin later #Sundrop x reader #Moondrop x reader #sundrop x y/n #moondrop x y/n #Where the Stars Don't Shine

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mammonistheman · 1 year

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Hi! If ur open for requests can I get one about king dice (from the show) where he finds out from the devil that he has a rival now! (Reader) who owns a popular club and is working better & faster than dice ever did! The devil tells him to go and meet his new working partner *who he hints might get his position as number 1 if doesn’t keep up😰* dice obviously gets intimidated and goes to the club to meet them. But the place is packed! everyone he knows is there! he gets a table and tires to look for his rival everywhere but it’s so crowded! then everyone gets quiet and looks to the stage he sees the singer who is the most stunning person he has ever seen in his life. They’re singing ( why don’t you do right) and is giving very much Jessica rabbit vibes 💋👠you know? everyone in the club is going crazy😍 singer slowly walk up to his table and playfully takes his hat (bear with me he’s wearing a hat here) and tugs on his tie and is close to his face! staring in his eyes veeerrry sensually I mean WHEW honey!😮‍💨 but pushes him away and walks back to the stage and ends the song everyone cheers and whistles and he’s there like 😳 he asks one of the waiters about who the singer is and finds out that they are the owner!!!!🤯 plot twist!!! like what you do here is your choice! what does he do? How does he deal with his rival how does his crush treat him? How does this end? I hope this helps! Let me know if you get this or if your confused about something! Thanks for reading💗

Ugh thank you so much for requesting 😩😩 I love this concept SO MUCHHH!! I can't get enough!! I love your description too!! When describing the readers outfit in this I used two different options, for more fem or masc people, but still very much keeping Jessica Rabbit 🤭🤭💋👠 this is LOWKEY long too cause I got so into it

ALSO I WAS MEANT TO POST THIS A WHILE AGO BUT DEPRESSION HIT HARDDD I made the ending a bit rushed I'm sorry 😭

"Again??" King Dice had always had a nervous bubbling feeling in his chest as he's called down to see the Devil himself, but much more nervous now that he had actually let that currently-being-hunted cup slip out the palm of his hand and managing to get away. Oh, yeah, for the second time already.

He pulls at his collar at the tone of the flamboyant demon, grin twitching nervously.

The dice looks at the ruler of hell up and down, adjusting his suit to flatter his body more efficiently. He falters his smile to suit his boxed face in a cooler manner, shrugging for his jacket to sit properly upon his shoulders. "Don't;;" his throat feels hoarse, he smiles nerve wrackingly at the devil who is now lifting an eyebrow.

"Don't even worry about it, Boss!" He points a prominent thumb to his chest. "Third time's a charm! That Cup's soul will be yours!" He states confidently, no trace of his former fidgety movements as he places his hands on his hips. "After all; that's why I am your number one.." he smugly recalls, fixing his gloves.

King Dice looks up to see the Devil's expression, and as it was before it looked distant and uninterested. He looks more than bothered, and certainly angry. Refraining from snapping, the pitchfork wielding toon pinches the bridge of his nose as some sort of way to take control of the situation. He ends up giving a fast, rash reply to the King's last comment.

"You know..;;" he drawls sassily, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance. "You have a rival for your place as number one." He turns, tail flicking up and into the air, stocking over to his throne that had been very near. He walks up the thin steps up to his seat, fire from the sides of the pathway roaring fiercely before forming into more controllable flickers of flames.

King Dice takes the heat into noticable consideration, yet the mention of rivalry for the placement of number one made him freeze in his spot. "Rivalry?" He questions, stepping closer to where the Devil had been stropping. He wafts his arms loosely around the place, frantically trying to get answers from his Boss. "What's this about rivalry, again??"

The Devil slightly picks up his mood, still slumped in his seat on the throne, but eyes now wide open in disbelief of the question. "Why- you don't know??" He begins; resting the pitchfork besides him, and lifting himself to sit up in his seat effortlessly. "You know; [Name]?" He waited for any sign of remembrance of the name, yet was left dumbfounded at King Dice's confusion.

"Come on- seriously? How don't you know [Name]??" He sassily, again, peered closer to Dice, but still with clear expressions, it was true he didn't know them. "Your new working partner??" He irritatedly huffed, only for King Dice to reply with an awkward. "You never told me about a new working partner.."

With some searching and fuss, The Devil comes to the conclusion of forgetting to tell his "Number 1" about his new co-worker. He starts to batter his eyeashes at King Dice, also suddenly forgetting the Cup's soul, a goofy grin taking over his face as he continued to tell him who they were. "Well; [Name] is your new rival now!"

He proudly announced, crossing his legs over one another before picking all the dirt from beneath his nails with the strong smile not leaving his face. "Or new working partner.. You know-- they own a popular club and they're working better and faster than you ever could!" He nods along to his own words, gushing over their criteria.

"Maybe they're the one to bring me the cup's soul!! Oh, how sweet of them, how very sweet!" As the Devil ponders and kicks his legs in delight, but with grounding himself he settles in his seat. "Oh they're just amazing! You must meet them!" He insists, without a thought he snaps his fingers and a hat appears.

The hat is a royal purple and looked as if it was made out of expensive fabrics, it suited the rest of the King's suit. The devil lifted himself up, holding the hat at the lip of it, and reaching over to pick up his pitchfork. He bangs the nip of the pitchfork against the floor twice, clanking sounds coming right up after the gesture.

He walks down the thin steps, placing a hat atop of King Dice's head, completely dissing his completely crushed soul seeping through and out his dice eyes. "You'll need that hat at the very least, because;; you know.. [Name] is just really fancy!" He continued to push him towards the elevator that had appeared from the floor on command to the pitchfork.

The thin appearing doors shoved open, it empty without the usually little short and round demon that would assist him. King Dice gets sent forward by the cupped hand of the Devil, with his back still turned towards him he heard the final words of his Boss before the doors clamp shut.

"So, with that said; if you don't keep it up, you know who will get the position on number one. "

On the ride up was fast but slightly bumpy, in slow knocks to either side had been applied to the elevator levitation as the Dice could only stare in the deep rich colour of the door. He had a heavy frown craving his face, shoulders drooping forward slightly, his back slouched with his arms hanging.

The doors soon snapped open and gave him a clear view as to where he was; yet the first thing he noticed was the busy chatter all around him. He stepped out, noticing the dark alley way he appeared in, only vaguely recognising the sound of the escalator burying back into the floor without a trace in the concrete.

His eyes widened slightly at muffled mutter, he was quick to pace to the corner of the wall, past messy dumpsters, his movement almost causing his newfound hat to slip off his head. He adjusts the new clothing accessory, looking around the place he had been sent two.

Clearly, it were still the streets of inkwell. It actually seemed sort of familiar, like he had passed by before, but he let let little detail slip. He looked up at the building he had been standing by, recognising it as a bar, the very prominent yapping conversations coming from inside. He adjusts his clothing again as he stepped away from the casted shadows, looking into the bustling building.

He counted heads, even recognising some faces as people who watch his shows, the many faces he has looked over time and time again. It was like he had been seeing them for the first time, but with the knowledge of them being his watchers. He stepped inside, looking at all the fancy decor.

The fancy paintings on the walls looked out of place but suited; they marked who had opened the bar and the year it had been opened. A portrait of a older gentleman, rather dapper, in a expensive suit and had been painted in expensive paints, it looked like. He continued to search his surroundings, still wondering why the bar had been so popular.

Sure, the glinting lights had created a atmospheric environment, good to be tipsy in, the main color used for the carpet flooring and the surrounding walls were red and gold.

But it still smelt of regular old boos, and hadn't even been using the stage that had been set up in the corner. The night still seemed lively, dispute the stop of nothing going on. He couldn't help but wonder if he could sneak in his very own show, and turn the night into one of his very own if he could.

He was still captivated by the many drunken friends singing in broken harmony, that he fails to watch a waitress prance up to him. "Can I help ya?" She rather rudely snapped, but King Dice only assumed she didn't notice who he was. He grinned charmingly, flicking the hat to fall off his head before bowing to the lady.

"Why, yes, may you bring me to a table?" He smugly replied, standing up with a still fist full of his hat. He waited for any reaction off of her, but only to see she continued to chew on a toothpick. "Okay, Buddy, follow me.." she turned away, almost leaving him in the crowd of wasted middle aged men. He hurried to keep up, quite in disbelief at her reaction. Rather than; her lack of a reaction.

He was brought to a table, the seats cushioned and light weight to eye appeal, they had also been coloured a significant shade in red and gold as of the rest of the surroundings. There had already been a group of lads there as well, as of how grounded the place was it was the only seat that was free.

"The bar is over there, Pal, if 'der is anythin' ya need." She simply walked off after her little dialogue, leaving him to ask the three men sitting down if he could join. Them, rather loudly, agreed to his company alarmingly willingly. He sat, and as he knew it, it was a rather comfortable for a spineless seat.

He looked over the big sea of crowds once more, trying to see any sign of his so called "rival", but to no luck he can only spot pigs chugging to their hearts delight. Slightly awkward, he leans into the group that looked as if they were in the middle of a card game. "So.." he starts, instead of the group growing at him in annoyance they all grinned, eyes half lidded.

"Sup'?" Was a simple slur of reply from a cat toon besides him. He was quite shocked they weren't as badly drunk as the others in the lot, but he still doubts he'd get clear answers. He tightens his tie, pushing down his mustache to be neater, and grinning at the friendly men. "Why is this place so crowded, huh, fellas?"

As soon as he got the question out the lights dimmed down, a singular beaming shooting out towards the stage. It instantly caught the attention of many, as well as the Dice, as the last thing hastily said to him was a breathless "You'll see in a sec.." the cards of the three players got thrown down onto the table, sighing, cupping their cheeks in their hands.

youtube

(if you wanna listen and read idk I also like the Jessica rabbit one better so i put it- just imagine its gender neutral too even tho its known as a "woman's blues" song 😭😭)

It had been silent for a couple moments, a voice seamlessly coming from nowhere with an echo. The rhythm of their voice was flawless, the lyrical words making the King perk up. "You had plenty of money in; 1922~" thick, deep cords strike from the band in front of the stage, blending into the dark with there dark clothing and instruments.

People starting cheering, the singer unfazed by the loud grasping voices as a leg of theirs appears behind the red certain hung up to back sights behind the stage. They make their appearance, outfit show worthy and fancy to a glimpse. The King's mouth hangs open to a gawp, eyes outlining their figure and clothing.

(If your want masc clothing(its still very glam);

They happen to be wearing a red suit, black shirt, and red tie. They hadn't been sparkling with gems but instead with spray on glitter that had been lightly scattered across soft, gleaming skin and only slightly wrinkled clothing. Their black shoes had soft clicking sounds against the wooden build of the stage, the slim heel making them slightly taller. Their gloves were a pale cream, if not white, with three striped markings on the back.

If you want fem clothing(its basically Jessica Rabbit ngl);

They had a bright red gem dress, the clung to the shape of thier body effortlessly showing off their silhouette. There's a slit up the leg of the dress, ending at the very hip on the left side. It reveals the shoes, long tall read blinding heels, that made harsh sounds when they walked(in a suprisingly stable fashion). Their gloves were long enough to reach their elbows, a pale cream, if not white, with three striped markings on the back.

Sorry; please continue :D )

He gulped for air, watching them delicately trailing a hand across their body almost in a teasing manner. They look at all the viewers, like he had been doing moments ago, watching them reach up to try to make contact with their body from up on stage. The glance they give to drunk lads was pure amusement, with one more wipe of the scene they finally find a different view..

A dice, King Dice for that matter, watching from a table, the most sober person at this bar. They almost double took at his sudden appearance, yet with still tuning their voice cords they smirk flirtatiously. They look down at the steps dividing the pianist, that had now also started playing the cords, from other musicians playing the background.

People make way for them to pass through, a line directly heading towards 'The Devil's right hand man'. They're still plucking words, swaying the heads of many people, making a few sing along with them as they traveled through the crowds of drunks and up to the only typically sober individual.

King Dice watches them, almost frozen in his seat, inspecting their body as their swift movements carry them through the large clusters of people. It doesn't hit him how close they are until their voice is ringing in his ears, he still pays attention to them rounding the table, away from him, their voice more broody as they made contact with the cartoon cat besides himself.

The cat, sitting directly next to King Dice, stiffened up, fluffy slim tail lifting up into the air in a straight line. They leaned over him and traced a finger to his hand that was resting on the table, up to his shoulder, and than to his cheek. People swooned and cheered at the 'exciting' actions, but that didn't matter to the mysterious singer as they made eye contact with King Dice the whole time.

They finally depart from the mouse chaser, standing to appear straighter as they finally set undivided attention onto the royal purple dressed dice. They take his shoulder, spinning him in his seat to fully put him on display to the crowds. Still singing into their old fashioned microphone, they let a chuckle slip into their words.

They take his hat, topping it down on their own head, focusing on any emotion they can find in his eyes. They give him a sensual look, furrowing their eyebrows to point upward, widening their eyes to appear more 'doe' like. They pucker their lips, leaning awfully close, close enough for them to know only King Dice can see their change in dynamic.

Their gaze becomes sharper, a grin appearing freshly with the still very much doe gaze and lifted brows.

They watch him falter underneath their look, but as he got lost in the (eye colour) pools of their pupils, they have to get lost in the music. It happens to be the very last line of the song coming up, so with tilting their head they tug tightly onto his tie. They jerk him forward and closer to their face, cheeks brushing against eachother, until the very moment they push him away.

They straighten their stance again, turning. Up and away again, up to the stage with supringly slow motion as they once again passed the many members of the band playing hard to get the moment right, the singer curved their fingers to ball up the fabrics of crimson sheet, looking over their shoulder longingly at their known new working partner.

They smile sweetly at him, over their shoulder, their words still smooth and collected as they maintained eye contact. "Why don't you do right; like other men do?" It almost felt personal, with one more suggestive look, they pull the curtain back and seem into the darkness of the back room.

King Dice can hear his heartbeat in his ears, surely the lights turned back on but the cheering and clapping seemed to be endless. He audibly breathed heavily, patting over his body to make sure he had in fact witnessed the scene in such detail. He felt the random toons at the bar nugging his side, flaring their eyebrows and knocking their head towards stage as a joke.

He looked around for anyone to ask of their name; but only saw the waitress from before. She was still chewing on a toothpick, but the grumpy expression lifted til there was no race on her face. He was cheering among the other people, goo-goo eyes at the person that wasn't on stage anymore. Figuring he wouldn't get the right answers from wasted people around, he gets up from his seat.

He directly goes over to her, standing with other employees, before rudely interrupting their conversations. "Hey!" He states rather abruptly, gaining a collective response other that just her attention. "What;;" he breathes, looking back at the stage and raising a hand to his head. His hat has disappeared. His eyes widen, nervously looking back at her, as the group has lost interest of his reasoning.

"What was their name??" He questions again, getting a quick snappy reply like the first time he had talked to her. "They're not interested, sir." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. He looks the toon up and down, pointing to the top of his head at the disserpearqnce of his hat. "They have my hat; and I paid good money for that."

His voice had undertones of a seethe, but he continued to watch the woman huff and gingerly shuffle towards the stage. He followed after, walking towards the door labelled as a "storage" room that was build in besides. He fixed his suit nervously, looking around the booze scented room, hearing the door open and looking in after the waitress called into the room.

"MISS/MR (NAME) (LAST NAME)!! A buster over here is lookin' for ya'!! he wants da' hat back!" He slightly froze, freezing in frame of the moment as the waitress swayed her hips and left the scene. He caught up in the moment, walking into the doorway, and with shakey hands closed the door behind him.

He recalls their last name, but definitely their first name.. his rival, and the devils new so called "number one". (Name). He sees a few steps ahead of him, he quickly but nervously flees up them in a sort of fidgety fashion. He appears in another doorway, and speaking into the small room he sees a particular scene.

They had been sitting upon their seat, a hat still upon their head, and the usual Hollywood mirror staring back at their visue. They peer at him with half lidded eyes, eyelashes fluttering, before a sensual grin pull their face.

"Hello; King."

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jeniffercheck · 7 months

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light blue (nothing's gonna stop me now)

shivlina fic exchange: exposed affair with a side of shiv becoming twitter's rich white lady of the month, s2 canon (until it's not), set during 'safe room' - 2x04, shivlina are established affair partners.

words: 7.7k

read here or on ao3

for @shivvroys<3

“Do you have a Goodreads?”

Shiv pauses in the bed. Karolina’s been scrolling through her phone, laughing every so often at a cat video that she desperately needs to show Shiv right now, asking her if she’s heard about some absurd foreign news that Karolina gathers from the pits of Reddit.

(Because Shiv desperately needed to know that a rolled truck in Canada covered an entire highway in celery.)

It’s the worst part of the night, when the hours turn into minutes and the minutes to seconds, and every passing moment becomes one less that they get to breathe the same air. One less that they get to sit next to one another and exist in their small bubble, away from all the bullshit that makes up their lives.

“What?” Shiv asks, flopping her head to face Karolina.

“A Goodreads account,” Karolina says. “Do you have one?”

“Yeah,” Shiv says. She shifts closer to Karolina, trying to get a better look at her phone. “Why?”

Karolina shifts the device into Shiv’s view. “I think you’ve been discovered.”

“What?” Shiv rips the phone out of Karolina’s hand, eyes quickly scanning the screen. It’s her account, and the numbers do look suspiciously higher than usual. She grabs her own phone and opens the app, and lo and behold, hundreds of notifications have rolled in throughout the day. Likes and comments on her reviews, followers on her account. She’s not not used to it, her Twitter and Instagram receiving a healthy amount of engagement compared to the average user, but those are staged. This is…fucking embarrassing.

“How the hell did they find this?” she grumbles, clicking through some of the followers.

“I don’t know,” Karolina says. “Maybe the one-star and very detailed review of that unauthorized biography on your father was a good hint?”

“My review?” Shiv asks, scrolling through her page.

“I mean,” Karolina continues, “I don’t think the words, ‘My dad,’ were very helpful in keeping yourself anonymous.”

It appears on Shiv’s screen, a review logged last week. Sloppy, choppy, and boring as hell—she deletes it before she has time to read the rest.

“Oh my god,” she says, covering her face with her hands. “I was drunk when I wrote that.”

“Well, you’re a tough critic when you’re plastered,” Karolina says. Shiv’s mouth curls upward in disbelief as she unveils herself to Karolina, who seems to be fighting a smirk of her own. Shiv can’t contain her laughter as she drops back onto the bed, and Karolina follows, perched on her elbow next to Shiv’s head.

“What are the optics on this?” Shiv asks. The last thing she needs is to start an internet war with some E-List author. Karolina pulls her phone back in front of her, the screen flashing as she swipes through different apps, her nails making that grating tapping sound that pisses Shiv off when she’s trying to go to sleep.

“Uh—” Karolina pauses, zooming in on something. “Well, looks to me like you’ve just become the internet’s newest white girl of the month.”

“The what?”

“I mean, just look—” Karolina holds out her phone again, urging Shiv to read whatever’s on the screen, Twitter coming into view as Shiv does so. She scrolls through a variety of tweets, phrases like feral and deranged and mommy punching through. “They’re going crazy over you.”

@evermores: Does anyone else think Shiv Roy and Nate Sofrelli had something going on?

↳ @dazzlinghaze: why do you know random ass Gil staffers

↳ @evermores: Spoken like a fake fan.

↳ @notromanroy1: they were definitely boning

@milfhotline: I mean I know she probably steals money but she’s hot, so.

↳ @moonhaven: ???

↳ @Ryan2334657: Her dad is Logan Roy. Definitely a family of thieves.

↳ @moonhaven: sorry are you their bank? maybe she hates him. we don’t know

↳ @milfhotline: oomf out here defending a capitalist?

@candlenights: I don’t care what y’all say. Shiv Roy is my new Caroline Calloway. If she wants to steal, let her. Who am I to deny a woman her wrongs?

“Why the fuck do they all think I’ve stolen money?”

“You’re a Roy. It obviously means you commit wire fraud for breakfast,” Karolina says, scrolling through more tweets. “You should reply to one of them. Fan the flames.”

“Why would I do that?”

Fanning the flames sounds like the opposite of what her years of PR experience have told her.

“It would look good, engaging with the culture,” Karolina argues. “You know ATN’s viewership is sixty-eight percent senior citizens? Imagine if you brought in the youth. Your father would salivate.”

Shiv sits up, looking at Karolina doubtfully. “You, Karolina Novotney, want to brainwash the youth with ATN?”

Karolina shrugs, that hint of a smirk still visible on her face. Shiv scoffs playfully.

“Fuck you. You just want to see what would happen.”

“Fine,” Karolina concedes. “Sue me.”

“Yeah,” Shiv says, leaning over to press a kiss on Karolina’s forehead before getting out of the bed. “You couldn’t afford that.”

Karolina gasps, throwing a pillow at Shiv. “Whatever,” she says. “I just think it would be a good temperature check. Organic.”

“Well, I’m not engaging,” Shiv says. “I’m disengaging, if anything. I’m deleting my Goodreads and leaving the rest to their imaginations.”

“Their imaginations certainly are impressive,” Karolina says, grimacing at her phone.

“What is it?” Shiv asks.

“I thought you were disengaging?”

Shiv rolls her eyes. “I am.”

“You’re no fun,” Karolina says, pouting as she stands, but Shiv walks back over to her, lightly pushing Karolina back on the bed.

“You hang around me because I’m fun?” she asks, hovering over Karolina. She stops just as she reaches Karolina’s lips, and Karolina’s breath hitches. It’s then that Karolina’s laptop chimes from the other end of the room, and both of them sigh, an unwelcome reminder that their time for the night is officially coming to a close.

“You’re so much fun,” Karolina says before she leans up, stealing a chaste kiss from Shiv’s lips. “What time is Tom expecting you?”

Shiv sighs, rising once again.

“Thirty minutes ago,” she says. She walks into Karolina’s bathroom, pursuing her things that are already there. It all feels so simple, having a toothbrush in Karolina’s holder, having pajamas in her drawers. It’s a second life, sure, a home away from home, but it doesn’t feel any less real than the other parts, the parts where wakes up in the middle of the night and wonders why Karolina’s hands feel so big, why her sink looks so different. She washes her face, pushing the thought away for another time.

“Shiv,” Karolina says, her accusatory tone following Shiv into the bathroom.

“What?” Shiv asks, drying her face. “He’s fine. Mondale’s there.”

Karolina’s silent as she leans against the door frame, watching Shiv freshen up. It’s one of the more humiliating parts of the routine, running home to her husband who thinks she’s well on her way to becoming the next Head of PR for Waystar, guiding his eager mouth through the dark to her already-bruising breastbone, lest he think the marks came from anyone other than himself. Karolina looks at her sadly. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s annoying when it does, the sour mood or separation catching them both by its vicious claws.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Karolina asks. She asks at least once a week. Shiv would find it endearing if it didn’t make her feel entirely suffocated by just the thought of her actions.

“I told you, we have an arrangement,” Shiv says.

“And you’re not lying to me?”

Shiv sighs. She’s not lying, not really. She and Tom do have an arrangement. She stays out of Tom’s business—not that he even makes an effort to participate—and he stays out of hers. It’s simple, and she wants it to stay that way, but still, a part of her knows things with Karolina have gone outside the parameters of the arrangement. So, she’s not lying, but she isn’t quite sure where the truth fits just yet.

“I’m not lying,” Shiv says. “And Tom doesn’t own me. If I’m late, I’m late.”

“Alright,” Karolina says, voice still weary.

“What, you want to get rid of me so soon?” Shiv teases.

“I wouldn’t let you hog my sheets all the time if I wanted to get rid of you,” Karolina says.

“I do not.”

“Prove it,” Karolina challenges, and Shiv laughs.

“Should I set up the cameras before, or after we fuck?” Shive asks, facing the mirror. Karolina laughs, but it’s small and she replies by hugging Shiv from behind and resting her chin on Shiv’s shoulder. They lock eyes through the mirror.

“Stay over tonight,” Karolina says.

It’s an easy ask, as easy as anything else Karolina ever asks Shiv to do for her, and a rare one at that, and it tugs at Shiv the way it always does when she has to deny Karolina of something that she wants. Karolina, a never-ending stream of goodwill and wonder, Shiv, a constant disappointment.

“What do you get out of this?” Shiv suddenly asks, and Karolina doesn’t hesitate with her response.

“I get you.”

“But—” Shiv stammers, unsatisfied by the answer. “Like, what do you get out of it?”

Surely Shiv is not the prize. She’s a consolation, a means to an end. Karolina should be lucky to have her, sure, but when luck runs out, what’s left? Shiv is convenient.

“You make me feel normal for a little while,” Karolina says. “Like I’ve finally done something right. You do.”

It feels like a cosmic joke, Karolina saying that Shiv makes her feel right when Karolina makes Shiv feel as though she’s done everything wrong, her mere presence causing Shiv to rethink every action she’s ever taken to lead up to their interactions. Not that it’s Karolina’s fault. It’s a mess that Shiv’s made, one she knows she has to clean up soon, before it all comes crashing down on her.

“Not what you wanted to hear?” Karolina asks, looking nervous in Shiv’s silence. Shiv reaches up to grab Karolina’s hand, squeezing it as she smiles softly.

“Just—not what I expected,” she says.

“What did you expect?” Karolina asks.

“I dunno,” Shiv says. “Maybe that my financial crimes get you off.”

Karolina’s lips curve gently, and a soft laugh escapes her. Shiv knows she’s laughing because Shiv wants her to. Because Shiv has to leave in fifteen minutes and if they get into it now, if they let their emotions get any further, they might go places they can never come back from. Shiv turns around, connecting their foreheads. By the time she leaves, Karolina is back to some late-night work, and Shiv, back to Tom.

—

The first thought Shiv has when the gunshot goes off, is that it doesn’t really sound like anything at all. One second she’s playing Connect the Dots while being babysat by the Old Guard, and the next she’s being rushed off through the executive floor to a safe room that she isn’t really sure is all that safe, given the fact that they’re on the top floor of a high rise in the Financial District, distinctly known for having zero issues involving life-endangering events and fucking high rises.

She stumbles her way through an increasingly irritating phone call with Tom, something about the wrong safe room and she realizes that she doesn’t have a clue where Karolina is, right safe room or wrong safe room, and she still doesn’t know if there’s a shooter in the building, and she still doesn’t know where she stands with Dad, and she doesn’t know shit about anything, because everybody wants to keep her around but nobody wants to keep her in the loop.

“Where’s Kendall?” her dad is immediately asking, winded and wilting, and only ever concerned about her older brother.

“I don’t know,” Shiv says. It doesn’t seem like the correct time to remind him that she’s not Kendall’s keeper, and she’s also got bigger concerns on her mind. “Were you with Karolina? Have you seen her?”

“Karolina?” he repeats, and at first, it’s a quickening of Shiv’s heart rate, wondering if she’s somehow said too much, gone too far, but then it’s a dismissive wave of her father’s hand, a welcome sign that she hasn’t completely screwed anything up just yet. “Get on the phone with her—figure this fucking mess out.”

She does, retreat to a corner and call Karolina several times, her pulse beating harder with every passing ring. It’s not until the third try that Karolina actually picks up, just as Kendall and Gerri enter the room, and she still has enough time to roll her eyes as her dad greets Kendall, his golden boy returned safely to the throne room.

“Shiv?” Karolina’s voice comes through the receiver.

“Karolina,” Shiv sighs, relieved. “Where are you?”

“I was on a lower floor dealing with a small fire—we were evacuated right away,” Karolina says. “I’m with the news crew now, they’re prepping to go live from outside. Where are you?”

Shiv looks around. Kendall doing God knows what in the bathroom, Rhea and Dad looking awkward as all fuck on the couch, Colin hovering creepily. Gerri, it seems, is heading right for Shiv.

“In the Kensington Palace of panic rooms,” Shiv says, losing her words with every step Gerri moves closer. “I just wanted—we, wanted to check in on the response. And I—you’re safe? With the protestors outside?”

“I’m pretty sure ANTIFA is the least of our safety concerns,” Karolina mumbles, her voice getting quieter as Shiv cups the phone, Gerri stopped in front of her, gesturing to the phone.

“Can I speak with her?” Gerri asks.

Shiv has half a mind to say no. Wants to take herself and her phone and Karolina’s voice and lock it all away from others. Wants to touch her hand and make sure it’s real, that Karolina’s right where she says she is, outside of Waystar HQ, prepping some corporate shill with eyelashes far too long for national news to tell the whole world that everything’s fine, that there’s a shooter inside of their workplace but they’re all fine because this is America and guns are our friends.

Instead, she holds her phone out to Gerri. She’s at least grateful to be rid of the vibrations from Tom’s texts coming through every twenty seconds.

“How’s it looking out there?” Gerri asks into the phone. She eyes Shiv and then turns her back, mumbling a yes, and a no, and a no, we’re not legally liable, and a yes, they can say that on-air, and when Gerri turns back around, she looks as though she’s about to hang up, and if things were different—if Shiv weren’t trapped in a room with five people who definitely can’t know that Karolina is anything more to Shiv than a corporate sounding board—she’d get Gerri to stop. She’d rip the phone out of Gerri’s hands and take Karolina back.

Except, Gerri pauses. Her eyes flash suspiciously at Shiv, and she bids Karolina goodbye before handing the phone back, Shiv, using everything in her power not to look as desperate as she feels.

“Shiv?” Karolina says. “You there?”

“I’m with you,” Shiv says, trying her best to sound inconspicuous. Dad, Kendall, and Rhea are still deep in talks, but Gerri’s ears are her, even if she’s pretending they aren’t.

“I stepped away for a moment,” Karolina says. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, we’re all good here,” Shiv says. “I’m glad we got in touch quickly. It’s best if we get a statement out soon.”

“I was worried,” Karolina says, and Shiv bites the inside of her lip. “When they said there’d been shots fired, you know, I-I didn’t know—”

“Uh-huh,” Shiv cuts her off. “You’re right, we should wait a little. Don’t want to sound too haste.”

There’s a bit of silence on the other end, and Shiv feels bad. Feels awful, actually, because she’s worried too but she can’t show that. Not right here, not in front of everyone. She can’t cry or panic, can’t tell Karolina that if something had happened to her it would’ve been the end of Shiv, that the entire time she was speaking to her husband the only thing that was on Shiv’s mind was Karolina. She can’t tell Karolina any of this, ever.

“Can I see you tonight?” Karolina then asks.

It’s small and slightly hesitant, and feels far too fragile for the circumstances, feels too fragile to be aimed at Shiv. She can’t help it. Shiv might explode if she has to deny Karolina anything ever again.

“Yes, of course,” she says. “I’ll send you the details when we’re out of here.”

“Okay, Shiv. Be safe,” Karolina says, and it feels like the words are hanging, like there are so many more they should be saying that are inhibited by time and space and circumstance, and Shiv can’t help when the spell is broken, when she forgets that she isn’t the only person in the room and her lips curl to say something irrevocable, until at the last second she looks at Gerri, perceptive eyes still plainly on her and she does remember. The destructive words swallowed, and replaced with a cordial, “You too.”

She avoids Gerri’s gaze as she hangs up, opting to read through the abundance of texts from Tom that she’s received within the last twenty minutes. He’s going to be stuck at ATN all night, and the paperwork is, “Horrendous,” considering the shooter was revealed to be one of his employees. She schedules a car for Karolina and a separate car for herself, both to be taken to her apartment. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but it doesn’t feel wrong either, wanting to just sit on her own couch in her own place and bask in the silence with Karolina.

“What did Karolina want from you?” Gerri asks suddenly, voice quiet so as not to interrupt the Boys Club still trying to land a deal.

“Uh—just wanted my opinion on some words,” Shiv says. “That’s all.”

“Right,” Gerri says. “Because it doesn’t make sense to speak with the people who are actually on her payroll.”

“Look, Gerri, if you have a problem, then take it up with Karolina,” Shiv says. “I’m sure she’d love to explain.”

She locks eyes with Gerri this time, smiling her Shiv Roy best, and Gerri just sighs. “She’s not a toy, Shiv.”

Shiv can’t help it as she laughs under her breath.

“Are you my godmother, or hers?”

Colin whispers in Dad’s ear. He stands, Rhea joining him. They’re all shaking hands, smiling as Colin opens the door.

“If I were Karolina’s, I’d be telling her to run rather than telling you not to fuck things up.”

—

Relief.

It’s the only thing Shiv feels when there’s finally a knock on her door and she opens it to find Karolina on the other side, a little more disheveled than Shiv is used to, but her Karolina, nonetheless. Shiv normally wouldn't have her over like this, not when it’s so late and Tom could be in even when she knows he won’t be, but she finds that she’s running out of reasons to care.

The second Karolina is inside and situated, she’s pulling Shiv into a hug. It’s not her first hug of the day, but it’s the first one where she feels like she’s being held. Like her hands aren’t the only two things doing the lifting, like her body isn’t a vessel for someone else to consume and spit out and mold—like she’s being hugged because someone cares. Like someone is wrapping her in their arms, not because it’s where they want her, but because it’s where she fits. With Karolina, everything fits.

“Eventful day,” Karolina says, brushing a thumb across Shiv’s cheek.

“Not really a good reflection of Waystar,” Shiv says, frowning. “An employee blowing their brains out in the bullpen.”

“We’re lucky that’s all it was,” Karolina says, and her hands tighten around Shiv, voice thick with the emotional toll of the day. “Three Roys in the building an active shooter, I mean—it could’ve been anything, Shiv.”

“Hey,” Shiv instantly says, attempting to calm the concern in Karolina’s words. “It wasn’t that. I’m fine, and you’re fine—we’re all good. Right?”

Karolina looks at her, furrowed brows and scrunched lips holding back like they always do, and she just nods. It comes over Shiv again, that wave of protectiveness that she pretends hasn’t recently become exclusive only to Karolina, and she takes control of the embrace, bringing the side of Karolina’s temple to her lips and holding her tightly in return. She wants to say something, wants to make more promises that she can’t keep, and ask more questions that she doesn’t want the answers to, but her phone buzzes in her pocket.

“It’s Tom,” Shiv says, pulling away from Karolina, and then into the receiver, “Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” Tom’s voice comes through. “Are you home yet?”

“Yeah,” Shiv says. “Yeah, I got in about an hour ago.”

“Okay, good,” Tom says. “Will you make sure to feed Mondale? I’m afraid I’m going to be in the studio for a while.”

“Yeah,” Shiv says. “Can do.”

She’s being short. It’s not fair, but so many things aren’t fair. Which safe room are you in, Shiv? Are you sure there’s only one? I think they brought me to the wrong one, Shiv. I thought that it was something we wanted for me. What happened to the plan, Shiv?

“Alright, well. Everything—everything’s good?”

“Yeah, Tom,” Shiv sighs. “Your safe room kept you safe, I guess?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tom says. “Very spacious. It was nice to have some quiet time, you know? Hard to come by these days.”

“Right, no—yeah,” Shiv says. “Ours was—it was quiet too.”

“Good, good.”

There’s a lull of silence between them that Shiv often worries is a permanent fixture, but she knows Karolina looming behind her isn’t the best fuel for a conversation with her husband.

“Well,” Tom says, filling the silence, “I’ll see you later?”

“Sure, honey,” Shiv says. “Just let me know when you’re on your way, yeah?”

“Alright,” Tom says. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Tom.”

She keeps her back turned, scrolling through the calls on her phone. Tom, incoming. Karolina (3), outgoing. Tom, incoming. Roman, missed. Tom (2), missed. Karolina, incoming. Karolina, outgoing. She locks her phone, sliding it into her pocket without another glance. She finds Karolina’s set herself up at the kitchen counter, laptop out in front of her, fingers typing away. She looks up as Shiv returns, and Shiv wonders where her determined energy comes from, how Karolina can always keep going, despite it all.

“ATN putting out the fire for us?” Karolina asks.

“Yeah,” Shiv laughs sarcastically. “They’re gonna own the libs and turn a suicide into a men’s rights issue.”

“As long as the ATN audience believes it, I couldn’t care less,” Karolina says. “Waystar will provide its condolences and ATN can do…whatever the hell it does.”

Shiv knows Karolina doesn’t mean that. That she’ll be watching the news broadcast and she’ll send a scathing email to ATN’s PR department when their story doesn’t align with the professional public image that Waystar needs to maintain, and she’ll work long and extra hours just to make it right, even though there are plenty of people on her payroll that can do it just as well with her guidance.

Shiv wonders if Karolina thinks the same way about her. That whenever she asks if they can spend the night together or if they can see each other, if there’s not always a part of her that couldn’t care less. A part of her that can’t afford to care more.

“Well, with a Nazi on the news desk, I’m sure they’ll do just fine,” Shiv says. Karolina sighs and leans her elbow on the counter, head in her hand. She continues to type with one hand, a skill Shiv would find laughable on any other day, and Shiv pulls another seat closer to Karolina, resting her own body across the countertop as she watches Karolina work. Suddenly, Karolina’s typing furiously, sitting up straighter and switching through tabs at a rapid pace. Her phone dings a few times, and an unsettling feeling comes over Shiv.

“Fuck.”

Karolina’s expression has grown from slightly annoyed to exceedingly worried within seconds, and Shiv sits up instantly.

“What is it?” she asks. “Ken get high and shoplift with the Naked Cowboy?”

Except, Karolina doesn’t laugh, which worries Shiv, because Karolina always laughs at her jokes, no matter how stupid or ill-timed or horrible they are.

“Um, no, Shiv,” Karolina says. “It—it’s about you.”

Shiv goes through her mental calendar, trying to remember the events of the last week. She can’t remember stealing candy or vape fluid or murdering a fucking homeless person though, so whatever it is, surely can’t be as bad as Karolina’s frantic typing is having her believe. Karolina continues to type, and then pauses, turning her laptop screen to face Shiv, a gaudy email taking up the screen.

Email: [email protected]

Subject: Heavy is the Head

Message: Married heiress to a popular American news conglomerate spotted cozying up to a mystery woman at a gala.

Shiv tries to make sense of the words. “What am I looking at?”

“It’s a blind,” Karolina says, and Shiv attempts to calm her panic. A blind is a blind. They’re bullshit, even when true.

“It’s just the same thing as last night,” Shiv says. “Nobody’s going to believe it.”

“Scroll.”

Shiv does, hesitantly, and her heart sinks as she makes it to the next part. There’s a photo. A fucking photo of her kissing Karolina t that stupid charity gala that she didn’t even want to be at, taken by some sleazeball with an iPhone 14 and a dream. But still, it’s not the end of the world, right?

“Nobody can see your face,” Shiv says. “I mean, fine, fuck, I’m kissing a woman—that doesn’t mean anything—”

Karolina slides her second phone over to Shiv, a screen that’s usually reserved for the most desperate of occasions, and on it is a thread with a different photo, Karolina’s face and dress circled out of a crowd.

“Fuck,” Shiv repeats, because what exactly is the proper word to being outed to millions of people at once, and also, by the way, the person you’re kissing is one of your dad’s most trusted advisors, and, oh, you’re also fucking married! She looks to Karolina, who seems to be flitting between passing out and figuring out where she can purchase a military-grade machine gun to mow down the Reddit headquarters.

“Is someone on this?” Shiv asks, and she’ll admit it, she’s panicking, because normally it’s Karolina who’s on these stories and squashing them before they’ve seen an ounce of daylight, but Karolina is here, and the story’s already broken, and her eyes are a little frantic and her hands a little shaky and Shiv’s slowly losing faith that they’re making it out of this one unscathed. Shiv grabs one of Karolina’s hands, and the contact springs her into action.

“I—I don’t know, Shiv,” Karolina says, puffing her cheeks. She pulls her hand away, standing. “I need to make some calls.”

“You can use my office,” Shiv says, and Karolina nods, walking away without so much as another word. It’s a lot, a shooting and an exposé all in one day, and Shiv doesn’t even want to begin to think of the fallout. The thought of checking her phone makes her feel sick, and if the universe is at all on her side (which, it’s decidedly not, considering this is happening at all) then Dad is already asleep and he’ll never have to find out about this mess. There’s no way Roman hasn’t already found out, and she makes a mental note to come up with a list of things to blackmail him with if he enjoys his life as it is currently. And then, as if on cue, Tom is walking into the apartment, either blissfully unaware, or entirely all too excited.

“Shiv?” his voice calls out, and she steels herself, not at all ready for the first wave of consequence.

“In here,” she calls from the kitchen. It’s a little while before Tom actually enters, his slow, tentative steps confirming her suspicions.

“Hey, honey,” Tom says as he approaches. He doesn’t greet her like he normally does, his inviting arms usually engulfing her, and she’s troubled by the fact that it doesn’t bother her. The distance almost feels welcome.

“Hey,” she says. The tension is thick.

“Crazy day, huh?” he asks. He looks at her expectantly, and she imagines what he’s thinking. Maybe he wants her to fall to her knees, to beg for forgiveness. Maybe he wants her to serve him with divorce papers, to annul the marriage having violated the terms of the prenup. Maybe he wants to pretend it never happened, to forbid Shiv from seeing Karolina ever again even though they both know that Shiv would never listen to that order. She can’t tell, because she never knows what Tom wants. He pretends to want what she wants, or he says he wants less when he always wants more, or he wants things that simply don't exist, things that can’t ever exist, and she just has to stumble her way through his needs, catering to him without completely destroying her own desires.

She feels that urge again, to hide Karolina somewhere far away, somewhere where Shiv wanting can’t be used against them. Where she doesn’t have to suppress her desires just to make everyone else around her feel whole.

“Yeah,” she says stiffly. “Wild.”

Tom nods, still playing his cards close to his chest. He eyes the mess of screens on the counter, not lingering for too long on any device. It’s likely he spent his entire car ride home memorizing every detail of the news.

“So—what’s the plan?” he asks, like he’s somehow a part of it. Like it’s a business move that they’re making together and now they have to figure it out. Like it’s not Shiv’s livelihood at stake.

“The plan?” she asks. She knows it’s not the time to be dense, but he’s already pissing her off and they haven’t even begun. She doesn’t need a Tom-solution to her own mess.

“Shiv,” he says, her name coming out like a warning.

“I don’t know, Tom,” she says. “I have to—you know, I need to talk—”

It’s not the admitting that’s hard. She’s admitted plenty before. Admitted worse. It’s saying her name. It’s giving Tom that piece of her, that version of Karolina that up until now, had only belonged to Shiv. If she says her name, then it’s real. They belong to everybody. It leaves her control.

“Her,” Shiv finally says. Tom’s current state of mind is elusive. She never prided him much in the way of not wearing his heart on his sleeve, but he’s doing a good job currently, and it’s unnerving, not being able to suss out what he’s thinking.

“When will—I mean, is that—are you in contact with her?” he asks. “Because we should really all be on the same page.”

We. Us. All.

“She’s in the study,” Shiv says, and Tom’s eyebrows shoot upward.

“She’s here? Now?”

“Well, yeah, Tom. Did you want me to drop her off in front of Waystar?” she asks. “See how many different ways the paparazzi can ask her what it feels like to fuck your wife?”

“Okay, Shiv—I understand you’re upset—”

“Oh, fuck off,” Shiv says, turning away from him. “Can you just—stop, being so nice right now?”

“Well—I mean, this was a part of it, right?” he asks, that sickeningly dumbfounded expression slapped across his face. “The arrangement?”

Shiv hopes her face isn’t conveying the paralyzing lapse of nausea that she feels course through her. She can feel the boyish hurt seep through his words, pretending like the arrangement is still something he’s okay with. If she were being completely honest, it doesn’t feel like a part of the arrangement. If it were a part of the arrangement, it wouldn’t have been Karolina in that photo. It would’ve been some hot, young guy, just barely taller than Tom; enough to make her feel like he should be jealous, enough to make him jealous. Karolina is different. He wasn’t supposed to find out about her. She was supposed to be Shiv’s secret, her life away from Tom that he couldn’t touch, couldn’t steal. She won’t let him steal her now, either.

“Right,” she says. Silly. How could she have forgotten? “The arrangement, yeah no—sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Tom pouts and steps forward, Shiv’s lie like some kind of spell cast on him. It feels more morose than usual, his desperation for her bare minimum commitment to him. He pulls her into him, as if the arrangement means it’s not real. She isn’t sure either of them believes that, but she knows he wants to, and Shiv, as always, is beholden to his wants.

“It was frightening being in danger,” Tom says. “And this, on top of it all. We’ll get Rat-Fucker Sam on it. Ruin some Silicon Valley tech mogul’s life.”

“I think it’s too late for Sam, Tom. It went viral instantly,” she says. “I just need to figure this out.”

“Well, has she gotten the call yet?”

Shiv looks up. The call?

“What call?”

“You know,” Tom shrugs, and Shiv wildly shakes her head, because, no, she doesn’t know. She’s not some clairvoyant psychic put on Earth just to be able to read Tom Wambsgans’ mind when he decides the middle of a conversation is a good time to play fucking charades.

“What call, Tom?” she says again, stepping away. He looks around to make sure it’s just the two of them, which, Shiv’s pretty sure they are, considering she can still hear Karolina’s commanding voice leave the confines of the study every few minutes, and he leans in, lowering his voice.

“The fucking axe, Shiv!”

He says it like it’s break room gossip. Like Karolina isn’t one of the few people at Waystar who’s actually decent at their job, like she’s dispensable and that’s why Shiv chose her. Not a real person. She wonders if that boyish hurt isn’t just a glint of zeal, like maybe he’s finally found his opportunity for payback. Shiv gets to cheat, and Tom gets to watch the destruction. She wonders if this might not have been his play all along, let her run herself through brick walls over and over again, and watch silently until one of them finally takes her down, bruised and bloody and begging for mercy. Something tugs inside of her then, and she realizes there is a wall worth salvaging, and it’s not the one in front of her.

“She’s not getting fired, Tom,” Shiv says, hoping the blood and the cement seep through, spoken proof that even knocked down, the fragments of Karolina are deep within her now.

Tom just stares at her, open-mouthed with that stupid, disbelieving smile.

“If you’re worried about the optics, Shiv—we’ll have her sign papers. This won’t come down on you,” he says. “It’ll be quick and painless, I mean, you won’t even have to be a part of it—”

“Tom,” Shiv snaps, he closes his mouth, jaw set. “I said, she’s not fucking getting fired.”

In come the theatrics.

“Oh, oh, I mean, of course, Shiv, I don’t—I mean, I wouldn’t really think of it as a firing, more so as a sort of, Witness Protection situation,” he says. “I mean, she can’t possibly come back to the office, right? That could be, well—sort of disastrous, if you think about it.”

She tries to imagine it, tries to picture either of them returning to Waystar with a shred of their dignity, and she wants to believe that there is a way, somehow.

“She can,” Shiv says. “It was just a part of the arrangement, right? If we don’t treat it like a big deal, then it’s not. Firing her looks sloppy, Tom. It’s guilty.”

“Yeah, Shiv, it’s fine,” Tom says, finally letting some of his anger come through. “Maybe I should walk in with her tomorrow, then everyone can know I’m friends with the woman from whom I got cucked.”

“I don’t really want that any more than you do,” Karolina says, and Shiv looks past Tom, his head immediately turning towards the sound of her voice.

“Karolina, hello—”

“Hi, Tom,” Karolina says.

She’s a new kind of silent. Shiv isn’t sure how long Karolina has been standing there, doesn’t know how much of the conversation Karolina heard, but however much, Shiv wishes she hadn’t.

“Uh, hey—Tom?” Shiv says, Tom now looking back at her. “Can you just, maybe?” She nods in the direction of the door, and he raises his eyebrows before a light, “Oh,” escapes him, suddenly cordial again now that Karolina’s in the room.

“Sure, sure, yeah, I’ll just—I need to take Mondale out. All of this…energy isn’t good for his sleep schedule, so. I’ll, um, I’ll leave you two to…it,” he says, wincing near the end.

They both wait for him to leave, Karolina not daring to move closer until she hears the door shut, and even then, it’s a minimal attempt at closing the distance.

“He seemed mad,” Karolina says.

“Yeah, well,” Shiv sighs. He reacted how she’d expected. Highly upset but too desperate to actually show it.

“I thought he knew,” Karolina says, her tone slightly accusatory.

“He knew, yeah,” Shiv says, trying to sound sure. “I guess, he just—didn’t know who with, is the problem.”

She doesn’t expect Karolina to believe her, not in the way she expects Tom to take her words at face value, and Karolina doesn’t. She never does.

“So, we’ve been having an affair,” Karolina states.

“I told you, Tom and I have—”

“An arrangement. Yeah, Shiv, I got it,” Karolina says. The silence isn’t awkward more than it is uncomfortable. There are too many things to say, too many questions and strategies and unknowns. Shiv starts with what’s simple.

“Who was on the phone?” she asks.

“It was Gerri,” Karolina says. “She, um—well, she chewed me out, and then she, you know. Advice.”

“And what was her advice?”

“She told me I should stock my arsenal,” Karolina says. “HR, journalists, lawyers. She gave me some numbers.”

“Are you going to call?” Shiv asks, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“I don’t know, Shiv,” Karolina says. “I might.”

Shiv nods, unsure of what other response she could give. Of course, she doesn’t want Karolina to call those numbers. Of course, she wants Karolina to trust her, to believe that Shiv will do the right thing, to believe that Shiv would stand by her, would choose her. The longer this bullshit goes on, the more Shiv thinks that she would.

“Don’t,” Shiv says. “I’m not going to hang you out to dry. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Shiv,” Karolina sighs, and her face falls almost sympathetically. She moves closer to Shiv, though they still feel worlds apart, and Shiv wants nothing more than to reach out, to grab her hand and never let go. “It’s not you that I’m worried about.”

Dad. Shiv had nearly forgotten about him while trying to handle Tom.

“Did Gerri say—”

“He hasn’t called her about it,” Karolina says. “So, he either hasn’t seen it, or he’s ignoring it.”

Shiv lets out a sigh of relief at the information. This gives them time, a lot more time than she initially thought they’d have.

“So, we still have a chance to get ahead of it,” Shiv says. “Or he doesn’t believe it. Both work in our favor.”

“It doesn’t really matter whether he hasn’t seen it, Shiv, there’s a photo,” Karolina says. “Everyone else has seen it. The entire fucking internet has already seen it.”

“He’s the only person that matters, though,” Shiv says.

“The only person?” Karolina asks. “What about my subordinates? My boss, fucking—Hugo? There are people who want to see me fail. This could ruin me, Shiv.”

“It won’t ruin you,” Shiv says.

“I’ve been fucking the married daughter of the fucking CEO, Shiv. This is a PR disaster from hell,” Karolina says. “Who’s going to want to hire me? I’m a fucking liability now.”

Shiv waits for Karolina to say more. Waits for her to say that she regrets this, and that she never should’ve done it, and that it was a bad idea from the start. That Shiv’s malignant, a festering presence that bursts into people's lives and does her bidding and then leaves right before things go to shit, that she somehow makes it out unharmed every time, a body count living in her wake. She won’t let that happen to Karolina. Won’t even give her a chance to think it.

“I’ll handle it, Karolina,” Shiv says. “I’ll fucking, I’ll figure it out, okay?”

“How?” Karolina asks. Her voice is sharp and jagged and Shiv doesn’t think she’s ever heard it sound so unsure before, so small in the face of something so large.

“I don’t know, I’ll offer my soul to Shanghai, I’ll do the fucking management program, I’ll do whatever he wants—”

“What?” Karolina interrupts. “Shiv you’re not even in the company—”

“Why do you think I was in the office today?” Shiv asks. “It’s me. It’s fucking me, Karolina.”

Karolina shakes her head, confusion taking over her face. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know if he meant it, but he said it, and it’s something,” Shiv says. “If he wants me out of his precious politics, then it’s fucking something, okay? We have to try.”

Because if this is rock bottom, then Shiv has nothing left to lose, and she knows the Dems on Capitol Hill would kill to have the gay fucking Roy child on their campaigns. She can work with this; she just has to convince Karolina.

“Even if that did—it’s not a Get Out of Jail Free, Shiv,” Karolina says. She goes silent, her arms crossing gently. Her expression softens, her anger at the situation replaced with something sadder. She looks up at Shiv again, eyes boring into her from across the room, “Did he really choose you?”

“He said it,” Shiv shrugs. Karolina still doesn’t look convinced.

“It’ll never work,” Karolina says. “It just won’t, Shiv. The CEO of Waystar—home of ATN—with a woman?”

“Then we’ll go to Pierce,” Shiv says instantly. “Get them to agree to an exclusive sit down. Dad will be so mad he’ll back off. Fuckin’ extort the hell out of him. I’m from a crime family, right?”

Karolina’s brows furrow so thoughtfully, Shiv might think Karolina were pitying her. “No, Shiv.”

“Why the hell not?” Shiv asks, growing irritated when Karolina laughs.

“Shiv, you can’t ruin your life for me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shiv asks.

“That I can’t let myself get in the way of you becoming CEO.”

And it’s that. That sentence right there, when the decision’s already been made for her. She doesn’t care if Karolina hates her for the rest of her life and they never speak again; Shiv won’t let anything happen to her. Karolina, who didn’t go running to the papers right away. Karolina, a top PR strategist who could’ve spun the story in her favor within minutes of its release. Karolina, who desperately wants what’s in Shiv’s best interests. Karolina, who’s willing to throw away her tenure for a fucking vanity title Shiv isn’t sure she’ll ever actually get. Karolina, who cares about Shiv. Who’s worried about how it’ll affect her, sure, but who cares about how it’ll affect Shiv.

“And what if I told you that it wouldn’t even be worth being CEO unless you were there, by my side?” Shiv asks, finally moving closer to Karolina. Karolina's arms are still crossed, but she doesn’t move away as Shiv does so.

“I’d tell you that’s a stupid thing to say.” Karolina looks down, and Shiv lays a hand over her arms, squeezing lightly.

“I know this is bad, Karolina,” Shiv whispers, ducking her head as well. “I know that. But I don’t want any solution that doesn’t involve you. You’re non-negotiable.”

“I’m not an acquisition, Shiv,” Karolina says. “I’m a person and this is my life.”

“I have a life too,” Shiv says. “I want you in it.”

Karolina looks up, her eyes misty. “You have a husband.”

“I don’t have to,” she says, and it’s the first time she’s admitted those words out loud. The first time she verbalizes to another person that maybe she has made some wrong choices along the way.

“You’d leave him?” Karolina asks. Shiv looks into Karolina’s eyes and knows it’s not about leaving Tom. It’s about choosing Karolina.

“You make me feel like I’ve finally done something right, too,” Shiv says, tugging Karolina’s arms free. She presses their foreheads together, and Karolina’s hands grab at Shiv’s waist. They stand there in the silence, connected, and Shiv prepares herself for it to be the end, until Karolina’s voice rings out one final time.

“Shiv—are you sure?”

Shiv kisses Karolina, and it feels like nothing could ever go wrong again.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

—

“Look at this one,” Karolina says, rolling over in the bed. It’s been like this every morning since the divorce went through, Karolina doing her morning doom-scrolling and subjecting Shiv to the first round of daily tweets. She assumes one day it’ll get old, but for now, the only thing Shiv cares about is the peaceful glint in Karolina’s eyes and the easy smile she adorns, and Shiv lays her head on Karolina’s chest, giving her undivided attention to Karolina’s selection.

@milfupthesun: shiv roy has game like that ?

↳ @chaostheory: i mean we’ve all seen her girlfriend

↳ @milfhotline: want a waystar baddie soooo bad now

↳ @onemintjulep: need her to teach me her ways

↳ @notromanroy1: shiv is definitely not the one with game

“Wait a minute—” Shiv snatches the phone and sits up, squinting at the screen. “Is that fucking Roman?”

#evil laughter i think #<333333333333 #shivlina #shiv roy x karolina novotney #succession fic #shivlina fic #shivlina fic exchange 2023 #duskfalls

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carefulfears · 1 year

Note

An idea I've been teasing last night and today:

Do you think she hinted at a move in Detour because of the events in Small Potatoes? She got to see what it might be like and wants to know for sure?

MMAnon 💙

LOL!! i think there’s a lot that’s hard for her to ignore after small potatoes, and it’s a bit embarrassing to her. like she was literally ready to jump “mulder” because he asked her like 1 question about herself…….dana!!!!

and that’s something i’ve been mulling over a bit lately, because it’s not the only time that she kind of falls into that sort of attention. she goes out seeking ed jerse in never again, and just talks to him about how she’s feeling, about her mindset and her history. things that she had tried to talk to mulder about, before he said “this work is my life.”

then later, with padgett in milagro. again, a man who is curious about her, paying attention to her. both of these are sexual, in turn.

i think that in this stage (late s4-mid s6) there are things that she’s craving in her life, that she just isn’t getting from mulder. the thrill of the search and the chase and the best friend adventures, has kind of subsided. like she tells him in gethsemane, proving the existence of alien life is not her dying wish! it’s not what she wants to spend her last weeks on earth doing!

she needs something more than this bubble he’s created for himself, and despite how desperately they always want to be together, they haven’t yet quite worked out how to make room for her and her needs inside of it.

#asks #it’s so special when he is just zoned in on her though #she’s so caught off guard and lit up in it #small potatoes #detour

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jaejoongbornfreeonekiss · 1 year

Text

Yunjae Analysis

Part I

I'm a yunjae believer but i don't think they are together anymore.They broke up years ago

My analysis is based on my observation of JJ since he is very honest with his feeling.Yh always tries to hide his feeling especially since he is in SM:

It is an open secret for everyone that they were couple in TVXQ.

Post split, JJ was devastated and his songs are mostly sad love songs.

Kcassie and C cassie said that the two were meeting starting of 2012 but jj songs at that time were always sad wich make me believe that they were sort of friends with benefits with no commitment (the commitment jj always expected from Yh)

By the end of 2014,JJ seems more calm , less depressed,he started gaining weight and his emo tweets are less frequent indicating the start of his ''healing period''.For me, before this, he was in his bubble refusing to move on from TVXQ and Yunho.In one of his songs he even said ''i'm living in the memories of loving you" but in 2014, his enlistment was set and reality catches him so he started reflecting on his life and choices

He started accepting that he is not a TVXQ member anymore and will not be with YH anymore.This thought was reinforced in yh 2015 birthday, he was in Japan and said that he was feeling lonely since no one wishes him Happy birthday.See,JJ who , in all those years, always tweeted some ''non obvious'' tweet about yh in his birthday didn't even wishes him happy birthday in private.This year , they weren"t seeing eo for sure.

The same year,in jj concert the beginning of the end,two days before his enlistment,he said that he was reflecting on himself and regretted not spending time with the people around him, those who loved him.In the segment after the concert when asked about the best three moments in his twenties (by the ways his twenties started from 2006 when he was still a member of TVXQ) he replied : winning the case against SM,releasing jyj album in japan,when JYJ members comes to see him before his enlistment and they spent two days together.See,he never talked about tvxq despite having a good memories with them.

From all this,i believe jj was moving on from yunho around this period (2014 to 2015).It took him a couples years to do so since he loved yh with all his heart, he didn"t left a little for himself.5 years to move on

Part II

Their relationship after military service is difficult to undertand so i will try to analyze jaejoong first then Yunjae

JJ after MS (military service) is another man, different from the one he was before MS. He is happy,in peace with himself, no emo tweet , no sad love songs,no crying on stage He is becoming more like his older self , the jj at the early days of TVXQ:cutipie,Shy,Happy pill

He reconnected with hismeslf during his MS and understood that he must live his life since he is getting older. He was asked through the years if he wanted to go back to the past (which mean his days as tvxq included) and he has been consistent in his answers for the last 07 years, he always said that he is happy in the present and doesn't want to go back

In his documentary on the road , he said there that after MS, he want to live his life day by day , he doesn't want the days to end and it scares him that the time passes fast

Each person in their thirties have this thought, since in our twenties we don't care about time ,we believe that the youth is eternal but once you reach thirty, you want time to pass slower and want to enjoy each day

As for yunjae, in 2017, people have said that the two were meeting, jj gave a lot of hints

After 2 years of military service, they were probably missing each other and tried maybe to fix their relationship

Disclaimer: i don't consider matching items etc as hints since they are probably gifts from fans so they wore them

But starting from 2018, everything was different,so maybe something happened? (maybe they had an argument, keep in mind this is the year yh renewed his contract with SM).JJ left korea for japan without hesitation and stayed there for almost two years and almost half a year each year afterwards and he stopped giving hints about yunjae (remember his hints in his pre-military era, he was always obvious) And yh renewed his contrat with SM so i believe they are not together I'm sur about this cause :

-If JJ was with the love of his life,he will share love songs and heart and roses each day.He can't hide his hapiness nor his sadness. -if JJ was still in love with yh like before his MS and can't be with him, you will see the emo jj he was back then but JJ is neither of the two, he is happy but doen't share much romantic posts etc…

And for the future , i don't think they will ever be together They are in their late thirties, completed their MS, they had almost 10 years after MS, if they wanted their relatioship to work out,they would have find a way but their love is just impossible

#yunjae

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kimium · 2 months

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Tell me, friend, what has been the hardest and what has been the easiest things to write for each dorm fic you've posted in our Saw AU? (I know you haven't posted Scarabia yet, but if you want to you can predict what you think will be hard and easy for that one!) 💜💜

Hi friend! Thank you so much for this ask! I'm always so excited to answer anything related to our Sort of Saw Franchise AU. I'll answer this in order of my posted fics, just because that's how my brain works.

If you haven't read our Saw Franchise AU fics, here is the link to the series. There are mild spoilers to my fics so if you don't want those, read the stories first.

The Easiest and Hardest Things to Write for Each Dorm's Fic

Octavinelle

Honestly, the entire story was easy to write. Since this first story was a surprise gift for you, I was extremely excited. That motivated me to write consistently and focused for around two to three hours. Though, a part I remember being particularly easy to piece out was the conversation with Yuu and Azul. I loved dropping hints to what Azul is actually doing while Yuu remains oblivious. Overall, this fic was easy with minimal "hard" parts to write.

Diasomnia

The easiest part to write was when Malleus arrived to help Yuu out with the pushy man (Roy). I am a big fan of friends arriving to help others in tough situations and this was especially satisfying due to Malleus's status and power scaring everyone in the room except Yuu.

The hardest part was to not devolve Yuu and Malleus's errands to just tea time. Honestly, my brain is always stuck on tea time, but for this story I couldn't have the only errand be "go drink tea". Still, I smuggled tea into the story (obviously).

Savanaclaw

Easiest part was Leona's entrance. I had it envisioned in my brain, haunting me for a while. I love writing flirty, seductive, teasing Leona. I imagined how their intimacy wasn't subtle and how that excited Leona, satisfying his possessive side.

The hardest part was to not just devolve this fic into an M or E rated story. Dead serious, I had to restrain myself in this one.

Pomefiore

Again, I found everything in this fic mostly easy to write. I love the dynamic of Rook/Vil coupled with Yuu. It allowed for this story to flow smoothly through the entire writing process.

I suppose there was a minimal "hard" part where I reworked the last scene to everyone going to a gift shop. Like usual, I wrote food once more, probably because I was hungry, before deciding "they already ate".

Heartslaybul

Easiest part was writing the dialogue and banter between everyone. Heartslaybul has a fun dynamic with personalities easy to bounce off one another. I also found writing the subtly of the murder (burning the evidence) extremely fun to hint.

The hardest part was the beginning where I decided to detail Yuu arriving at Trey's bakery. I felt there were many transitions and I worried they were rough.

Ignihyde

The easiest part of this story was writing all the setting descriptions. I had fun with Yuu's opening thoughts at the grocery store. I had fun with describing Idia and Ortho's house as well as the film and games they were watching/playing.

The hardest part of this is without doubt, writing Idia. I am still struggling with his voice and find him challenging to write.

Scarabia (Not done yet)

I predict the easiest part to write will be Kalim and Jamil's personalities. I especially find Kalim easy to write and look forward to his bright, bubbly character.

As for the hardest part, I don't need to predict that; it's figuring out how to write the subtle angle of murder in the background. So far I've had: victims chosen (twice with Malleus and Vil), in the stage of planning the murder (Azul), post murder (twice with Leona's more explicit and Riddle's subtle), and during murder (Idia). Still deciding which one I want for Kalim. I'll figure out on my own soon though!

Anyways, these are my answers! I hope you like them friend! Let me know what you think!

#personal #replies #twisted wonderland #sort of saw franchise au

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elsanna-shenanigans · 6 months

Text

November/October 2023 Contest Submission #9: Three Things You Can Feel

Words: ca. 4,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: no Content: n/a

Spring

Twenty minutes before the track meet was set to start, the gleaming metal bleachers rippled with three dozen or so fans—a turnout just low enough, at this point, to keep Elsa’s social anxiety wobbling in the green. She picked her way down the stairs, careful not to rush, fall, and crack her head open. When she arrived at the bottom-most railing, she scanned the track for the figure that made this all worth it.

Elsa easily spotted Anna rounding the south corner. Her sister’s hair shone like molten copper under the late-afternoon sun as she streaked along the track. Elsa crossed her arms and leaned on the partition, admiring Anna’s speed and natural athleticism.

Elsa didn’t even have to call out. Anna spied her immediately; she veered off towards the finish line and slowed to a halt at the railing.

“What are you doing here?” Anna said, panting through the grin she tossed up at Elsa. “I thought you had your thing.”

Of all the moments to freeze up entirely for words. Elsa’s breath hitched as she drank in the sight of her younger sister: Anna’s chest heaved, glistening with a slick sheen of sweat. She was a fucking treasure—the best thing in Elsa’s dumb life. How could Elsa possibly think of leaving Anna for college in a few short months? Surely Elsa could take a gap year, loaf around at home while Anna finished her senior year, glom on and hover overhead like a creep while Anna partied and dated like a normal teenager—

Anna stared up expectantly while Elsa wrestled with her mopey internal monologue. Elsa cleared her throat, dug in her backpack, then held out what she’d brought for Anna and blurted the only thing that came to mind:

“Hydrate to dominate.”

Anna accepted the water bottle with the dopey grin she seemed to reserve just for her big sister.

“And dominate I shall,” Anna said, “now that I’ve got Old Faithful. Seriously, how do you remember this stuff?” She unscrewed the dented cap from her track meet lucky charm—a banged-up metal bottle their parents had bought her from the Yellowstone Park gift shop years ago. The image of the geyser Old Faithful hid behind stickers in various stages of wear and tear: Sanrio’s lazy egg, Gudetama, napping under a slice of bacon; “THE FUTURE IS FEMALE” in tie-dye bubble lettering; a die-cut Dolly Parton sticker Elsa had ordered for her off Etsy.

Elsa thought it was a hypothetical question, but Anna paused before taking a sip and eyed Elsa expectantly.

Because you’re the only thing that matters to me in this stupid town. Elsa answered with her usual eloquence: a bashful shrug.

While Anna gulped down water, Elsa squinted at the tiniest hint of sunburn glowing at Anna’s hairline. She bit her tongue to keep from fretting or lecturing about sunscreen, because despite Anna’s easygoing response to Elsa’s innate protective nature (reserved just for her little sister), Elsa still worried that she was doing too much, always doing too much for Anna, always giving Anna too much time and attention, hovering—her therapist had gently suggested this months ago, and ever since then, Elsa couldn’t stop agonizing over—

“You okay?”

Elsa froze, mouth ajar—caught zoning out at she stared at the long expanses of Anna’s skin, burn and sweat and freckles and all.

“Yeah,” Elsa said. “Just wondering, um—”

Think of something, think.

“—whether I have enough time to grab coffee on my way to—after this.”

Anna’s expression melted into rueful insecurity—and still she smiled through it, because she was an irrepressible people-pleaser.

“You’re sure you can’t miss your appointment this once? You’ve been so good about not skipping, and it’s my last meet of the season.”

Elsa’s heart wrenched with regret over the hurt that flashed in Anna’s eyes whenever she blew her off. Still, if ever there was a time when Elsa needed to sit in a session with Dr. Green, it would be now: now, as Elsa drowned in the unhealthy thoughts and urges that had flooded in over these past few months; now, as Elsa came to grips with living apart from Anna for the first time in their lives…

…And now, as Elsa’s attachment to Anna began warping into something that both sickened and thrilled her.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa finally said, trying to smuggle every layer of regret and shame she could never truly voice to Anna inside this simple apology over one simple track meet.

I’m sorry I’m such a mediocre sister. I’m sorry I’m such a freak.

Anna scanned Elsa’s expression. “I know you have Dr. Green to talk to,” Anna said carefully, “but if you ever want to talk to your sister about anything, I would love to be there for you.”

“Thanks.” Elsa swallowed around a lump in her throat. Her gaze drifted to the other girls rounding the corner of the track, Anna’s friends—younger girls whose sideways glances had never failed to send Elsa slinking out of any room.

“Well,” Anna said, screwing the lid back on Old Faithful, “I should probably finish warming up.” Before Elsa could react, Anna hopped up, planted her palms on the partition, and pressed a soft kiss to Elsa’s cheek.

“Thanks for always taking care of me,” Anna said, rocking her body forward and back where she balanced just inches from Elsa’s face. Elsa blinked once, twice, at a loss. Her heart soared.

Then, over Anna’s shoulder, Elsa spied Anna’s teammates trudging by, watching them with narrowed, curious eyes. Her heart plummeted to her stomach.

“I have to go,” Elsa blurted, lurching back until her shins jammed into the hard bench behind her. Anna hung, suspended for a moment, then vaulted off her palms and landed neatly back on the dirt.

“Have fun,” Anna said in a sing-song voice. Elsa offered a jerky wave before darting off up the stairs. A steady stream of fans had begun filtering into the bleachers. Elsa forged upstream, blood beating in her ears as she fought to dispel the image of Anna’s friends, their stares burned in her mind. She focused on distracting from her anxiety with a grounding technique Dr. Green had taught her:

Five things you can see:

Tufts of blue and white tissue paper squeezed in the chain link fence; elongated shadows moseying with their owners; scattered popcorn kernels on the pavement; a candy wrapper bouncing off a trash can; loose blonde hairs falling into her eyes.

Four things you can hear:

Heels crunching the gravel in the parking lot as she hurried to her car; shouts receding into a faint rumble; car doors slamming on either side; keys jingling as Elsa unlocked the BMW.

Three things you can feel:

Sun-warmed car door handle burning her palm; steering wheel bumping against her knees as she slid in; hot leather sticking to the stripe of thigh below her skirt.

Two things you can smell:

Pine-scented air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror; dust from the vents as the air conditioning kicked on.

One thing you can taste:

Copper on her tongue as she chewed the inside of her lip to pulp.

Something had to change.

Four years later. Halloween.

Breathless from darting out of the Uber across the street—or from the gilded corset that hugged her ribs—or from the anticipation of what she had planned tonight—Anna stood on the wet, glistening curb outside the Ruby Lounge and waited for her roommate to catch up.

“Do you always have to run straight into traffic?” Rapunzel griped, edging around a parked car to Anna on the curb. She carefully gathered her lacy fairy-princess skirts and stepped over a puddle.

“Always,” Anna said over the bass that oozed out from inside the club. “Come on come on, the night is young.”

They shivered in line for ten minutes, rolled their eyes at the stocky bouncer who ogled Anna’s generous cleavage, accepted the red, gemstone-shaped stamps on their wrists, and finally, finally slipped inside. Anna had been to the Ruby Lounge once—it was your typical weekend ass-shaking meat market—but tonight, the organizers had gone all out to transform the sprawling, two-story venue into a decadent masquerade party, swimming in shadows and teeming with partygoers ranging from Victorian elegance to downright slutty. Anna considered herself somewhere in the middle.

All the dress code required was a mask.

Anna and Rapunzel donned their masks as soon as they crossed into the dark, humid coat check, and suddenly, they were everyone and no one. The anonymity exhilarated Anna. If you wanted to shed your identity for the night, this was the place. But then again, if you were looking for someone…

Rapunzel nudged Anna’s elbow. “Have you heard from—”

“Not yet.” Anna fished her phone from her cleavage. No signal. She stashed it away again and promised herself she wouldn’t go searching straight away. She’d come to dance with her friend, to egg her friend on in talking to cute guys—and she’d come to dance with herself, to shake off the pre-midterm neurosis, maybe even coax herself into battling her own cute guy neurosis.

It was her senior year, after all, and she was so, so restless.

A sprawling skylight crowned the dim, pulsing lower level. It took Anna and Rapunzel twenty minutes to muscle through the dense crowd, shout their drink orders, and return to the action. Before long, the dance floor swallowed them up entirely.

Anna loved this part.

Warm bodies pressed her on all sides, stoking the pleasant heat that raced along her bare arms. It was intoxicating, made doubly so by the intrigue behind the masks that kaleidoscoped around her. She barely noticed when Rapunzel drifted away, laughing and dancing with a guy who wore a prince’s grin and a duelist’s swagger.

Amid the thrumming waves of music, Anna remembered, vaguely, the meeting she had arranged for tonight. She turned on her heel—did she even want to begin her search?—and stumbled into the arms of the woman behind her. The woman held Anna’s elbows steady and laughed, low and throaty next to Anna’s ear. A startling jolt of pleasure coursed across Anna’s skin at the sudden contact. She twisted her head to look at the stranger, all at once dazed and acutely alert. From behind a jeweled mask, curious eyes locked with her own. The stranger wore a royal blue corset buttoned up the front, and a sheer dress of thin blue lace draped from her elegant shoulders. A snowy white plume curled from her temple and swept over the side of her head. Swan Lake, Anna thought distantly.

The woman’s red lips curled in a smile, a question in itself. She said nothing, and neither did Anna. Purely by instinct Anna remained flush against the other woman, and because a split-second had passed and the woman hadn’t pulled her hands away, Anna followed the natural impulse and arched back into the stranger’s body.

On the dance floor, it may as well have been anyone.

…But, no. Not anyone.

Anna had never felt such electricity from another person’s touch. A searing current raced up her arms as the woman pulled her closer, and sensation blossomed with alarming intensity where the woman’s breasts pressed tight against Anna’s bare shoulder blades. She’d never even felt it with Hans—Hans, whom she’d meant to go looking for, whom she’d forgotten entirely. Instead, she dropped her head back into the crook of the woman’s neck. Time melted into the deafening bass as Anna danced, melded to this stranger in the whirlpool anonymity of the dance floor.

It was inevitable that Anna had to stop and fan herself, short of breath. Behind her, the stranger gently pressed her hands to the curve of Anna’s waist, a minute gesture of concern (which, of course, only elicited another gasp). A warm puff of air played across Anna’s ear.

“Let’s get you some water,” came the woman’s voice for the first time, blending into the music so seamlessly that Anna barely caught it. The stranger circled around and squeezed Anna’s hand, then said—what did she say?—Anna lost the words in the hypnotic glimpse of the woman’s delicate white teeth.

The woman slipped away. Anna fully intended to wait—she really did—but two minutes later, Hans and Rapunzel found her. Funny enough, he was the duelist Rapunzel had been cozying up with, And seriously, Anna, isn’t that hilarious that you could be talking to someone you know the entire time? Rapunzel, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed. Not so with Hans, who wanted to check out the rooftop right now, and led Anna from the dance floor before she could devise an excuse to protest. She left before the stranger came back.

A stranger, Anna thought to herself, climbing the stairs with her hand in Hans’s, light-headed. It just had to be a stranger who did this to me.

On the roof, Anna stood with Rapunzel at the water cooler while Hans waited at the bar. She pulled off her mask for the first time all night and relished in the soft breeze cooling her flushed cheeks. Leaning on the railing over the massive skylight, Anna scanned the crowd below. Without raising her eyes, she accepted a cup from Rapunzel and murmured, “Hydrate to dominate.”

Rapunzel chuckled. “I haven’t heard you say that since high school.”

“I know, right?” Anna sipped the cold water. Instant relief. “I actually picked it up from my sister. I know literally everyone says it, but for some reason I thought she came up with it on her own.”

“Elsa?” Rapunzel raised her eyebrows. “You haven’t mentioned her for a while, either.”

Anna’s gaze remained fixated on the party below. “We haven’t spoken in a hot minute. D’you know, Elsa actually moved to town a few months ago for grad school? She reached out once to hang out, but left me on read the couple of times I tried to follow up.”

Rapunzel gave a low whistle. “Harsh.”

Anna shrugged. “Elsa has her own life, and she wants to keep it private. Simple as that.” The pang of grief that raced through her was fleeting, confusing. Anna willed the sadness away. Tonight was not the night for this. Not while Hans was edging his way to the railing with her drink; not while the fine hairs on the nape of her neck still stood on end from the stranger’s touch. Before turning away, Anna glanced one last time through the skylight. She thought she glimpsed a sweeping white feather bobbing through the crowd—her heart leaped to her throat—but Hans nudged her elbow with the cold glass, she looked away, and by the time she looked back, whatever she’d thought she saw was gone.

Two years later. Winter.

Elsa hesitated at the entrance to the subway station. She touched a gloved hand to the stair railing. It would be so easy to catch the 8:10 train home, text Anna from the platform with some flimsy excuse about being tired—Anna always accepted with little argument, she didn’t want to encroach and push Elsa away. But Elsa’s heart ached in her chest, a dull flare throbbing in her otherwise numb body. She’d already walked the ten freezing blocks from her office building to Anna’s neighborhood, and right now, Elsa was just a gust of wind away from falling apart. She shuddered, then turned from the subway entrance and retreated from the bustling pedestrian traffic.

Fuck it. This wasn’t high school anymore. They’d been good for an entire year now, so of course Elsa could handle getting close to Anna again. After six years of distance, Elsa was better now.

The moment Anna’s apartment door swung open, Anna grabbed Elsa by the coat sleeve and dragged her inside, into a fierce bear hug.

“She’s a dumb bitch,” Anna murmured into Elsa’s hair, “and she’ll realize in about two days how badly she fucked up by letting you go.”

Elsa stood frozen in Anna’s arms, melting into the warmth of her sister’s words and arms—and melting, too, into hot tears and a sniffly nose.

“Maren’s not dumb,” Elsa mumbled. “And I can’t blame her for choosing…” She choked on the words and slumped into Anna’s embrace.

“Choosing to be a dumb bitch,” Anna supplied. “I’ll kick her ass if I ever see her again.” She began to stroke Elsa’s hair. Despite the harsh words, her murmur was velvety soft, so close to Elsa’s ear that the vibration made her shudder.

Elsa recognized her body’s response; her stomach turned to ice.

God, no. It had been six long years. They had tentatively picked things up and gotten off to such a good start—she was supposed to be better.

Elsa squeezed Anna’s arms and pulled back. “This was a mistake.” She tried to sound gentle.

Anna’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

“I—” Elsa searched for a painless excuse. “I won’t be any fun. I really just want to go to bed.”

“Come on, dummy, you know you don’t have to be fun. Just crawl into my guest bed.” Anna absently stroked Elsa’s wrist with her thumb. “After Hans cheated on me, I don’t know what I would have done without you, so just let me return the favo—”

“Sorry.” Elsa twisted her hand away and reached for the doorknob. “I just want my own bed.”

“Elsa, please. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I like it better being alone,” Elsa said, and with a rush of self-loathing she added, “I’m not like you.”

Anna’s shoulders slumped. She looked so lost. “Well—at least let me call you an Uber.”

Elsa was already halfway out the door. “I’ll catch the train. It’s fine.”

“Text me to let me know you got home okay,” Anna called down the hallway after her.

Of course, Elsa never texted.

* * *

In fact, days went by with no response from Elsa. Anna must have sent a dozen texts into the void that was her sister’s inbox, efforts ranging from “reach out if you need me,” and “are you remembering to eat?” to TikToks of pizza-stealing subway rats with Anna’s caption, “Maren sighting.”

Nothing but read receipts in return. Anna cursed herself, wondering why she ever believed that anything had changed after six years, that Elsa would let her back in.

By the end of the first week of radio silence, Anna began cursing Elsa instead. Not only was her older sister being a dick for shutting her out, she was seriously worrying Anna. Elsa had a track record of—well, not hurting herself, but self-hating to the point of serious neglect. Anna imagined Elsa curled up in bed for days, rotting away in severe breakup depression. After work on Friday, Anna reached out one more time:

Anna: 5:26 p.m.

please drink some water ok?

Anna grabbed beers with a few coworkers, then checked her phone around nine p.m. while she waited for her train home.

Read: 5:28 p.m.

She nearly threw her phone across the platform. Instead, she set her phone to vibrate—then changed her mind by the time she let herself into her apartment. She switched the ringer back on as she climbed into bed.

You never know.

* * *

In the morning, Anna found herself in the second-floor hallway of Elsa’s building, bag of groceries in one arm, rapping on her sister’s door with a no-nonsense *THOCK-THOCK-THOCK-THOCK.* She was well past the jaunty shave-and-a-haircut knock, and well past irritation with her sister.

A minute went by. Anna rapped again. Another minute went by. Anna rapped again. She was about to start pounding when the door swung open.

“Elsa, I’m sorry to wake you up, but—”

Anna closed her mouth. Elsa looked fine. Her hair was combed, her eyes were bright, and her chambray work shirt even appeared to have been ironed.

“Anna—hey.”

Anna squinted, confused. “You look… nice.”

Elsa pressed her lips in a thin line (she’d put on lipstick, too), as if trying to trap unruly words inside her mouth. Then: “Thank you?”

Anna shifted the grocery bag from one arm to the other. “You’re—you’re okay, then?”

Elsa leaned against the door jamb with a sigh, then seemed to remember her manners and stepped aside. “Come on in.”

The place was spotless—Anna even caught a whiff of laundry detergent. It was a far cry from the depression nest she had expected. She fought down her growing irritation as she busied herself unloading the groceries for her sister, who apparently was doing just fine, and couldn’t—wouldn’t—answer Anna’s urgent texts for—what reason, exactly?

Anna stewed for a minute. She poured herself a glass of water to buy herself time to simmer down. She held together her self control for a record minute and a half, then whirled around and blurted out, “Why have you been ignoring me?”

Elsa winced. “You know, just…” She gestured vaguely. “Breakup-hibernation. I wanted to be alone.”

Anna’s eyes narrowed as she spotted a red smudge on Elsa’s wrist. She stepped closer and snatched Elsa’s hand midair, then turned it over, revealing a gemstone-shaped stamp. “Alone—at the Ruby Lounge?” Anna said with a scowl. “What, did you rent the club out all to yourself on a Friday night so you could hibernate there?”

Elsa groaned and tilted her head back. “Anna, listen…” She made to pull her hand away. Anna only tightened her grip.

“Why do you feel the need to lie to me? You don’t have to invite me to do anything with you—I get it, you want to keep your private life separate—but why—” Anna deflated and let Elsa go. “See, this is how little I know about you now. Since when are you the party-the-pain-away type?”

Elsa blinked and spread her arms in a What do you want me to do? gesture. “I can’t get so attached to you, okay? You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to be normal, to meet other people and—”

“Normal?” Anna pulled back with a frown. “So, let me get this straight. You don’t think it’s normal for us to get attached? All those weeks when I was relying on you after my breakup, was that abnormal to you? What, too clingy?”

“I can’t—” Elsa turned away and leaned on the kitchen counter. “You’re fine, Anna.”

Anna scoffed. “So it’s okay for you to have a key to my apartment, but I can only come up here once a year? It’s okay for you sit on my bed and watch me blubber to the point of throwing up, but I can’t even get a text back when youget dumped?”

“I’m enforcing. My boundaries,” Elsa enunciated through gritted teeth. Restless hands danced along the kitchen counter until she gripped Anna’s glass of water like a mooring in a storm. The therapy-speak triggered a memory. Anna suddenly remembered an early-early root of their distance, the beginning of the end of their relationship back in high school, when Elsa started to see a therapist and decided she was too cool to spend time with her baby sister. The vivid memory sent a bolt of defiance thundering through Anna.

“You’re nothing but a walking, talking boundary. Even giving a damn about you seems to cross a boundary.”

Anna could have sworn Elsa’s eyes flashed with vulnerability, and for a moment her heart leaped with fragile hope. Do something. Do anything, Elsa.

But Elsa let out a terse sigh. “I think boundaries are great.”

Anna had to prod. “You thought that was messy, then? Me knocking on your door?”

“Anna, you don’t have to do so much.”

“Heaven forbid, me double-texting you?”

Elsa’s long fingers tightened around the glass. It lasted only a moment, but the notch of frustration that twitched between her brows was enough to send Anna careening over the edge.

What’s the messiest thing I could do?

“You haven’t seen anything. What about this?”

Anna grabbed Elsa’s face in both hands and crashed their lips together. Electricity erupted where their lips met, motionless with wet shock. Anna hadn’t planned on this—she only wanted to provoke a reaction, Jesus, and what the hell was this? Through some ungodly impulse, Anna breathed hot jets of air from her nostrils—and was that a whine that escaped Elsa’s throat?

SPLASH.

Anna stood completely drenched, her mouth hanging open. Elsa held the empty glass in midair. The water dripping on the tile was deafening in the sudden silence.

Slowly, Elsa set the glass on the counter and raised trembling fingers to touch her lips. “Oh, god,” she murmured, cheeks flaming.

They decided to talk.

* * *

…Well, first, Elsa had to rein in her reeling surge of anxiety. Immediately after dousing Anna, Elsa teetered against the counter, woozy, and counted: Five things she could see—Don’t look at the curves under Anna’s soaked T-shirt, that won’t help—four things she could hear—Except the erratic pounding of my heart is drowning out everything else—three things she could feel—Not the throbbing low in my stomach, pick something external—and so on.

Anna was terrific with her—all she wanted wasa chance to prove she could be terrific in a crisis—rubbing Elsa’s back and meeting her profuse apologies with soothing words: “It’s okay, Elsa, it’s my fault, do you want me to leave? Okay, I’ll stay, you’re okay.”

Eventually Elsa regained her bearings, fetched Anna some dry clothes, and beckoned her sheepish little sister to sit down. They sat together on Elsa’s couch, Anna curled up in one of Elsa’s threadworn college hoodies, Elsa hugging her knees and wondering how the fuck they would proceed from this.

Anna didn’t waste time cutting to the quick of her feelings.

“Do you know why I got so upset?”

Elsa waited.

“Because I need you,” Anna went on, “and it makes me feel stupid. Because I wish you needed me, too.”

“I do,” Elsa said quietly. Anna glanced at her in surprise.

“I need you,” Elsa went on, “to make me give a shit about someone besides myself. Caring about you makes me feel human.”

Anna eyed her for a minute. “You know,” she said finally, “it’s that logic that compels lots of people to adopt a kitten.”

Elsa hmmm’ed and her eyes swept up to the ceiling. “I see very little difference.”

“Rude.”

Elsa shifted her weight and moved to reach around Anna’s shoulder—then hesitated, doubt clouding her expression. The withdrawal was obvious. Anna’s face fell.

I’m sorry I’m such a mediocre sister.

Screwing up her courage, Elsa reached around Anna’s shoulder and pulled her sister into her chest. Anna melted into Elsa’s side with a sigh of, what—weariness? Relief? Disbelief?

“I’m sorry,” Elsa murmured.

It was Anna’s turn to wait while Elsa searched for words. She couldn’t help herself: “For?”

“For, um…” Elsa looked away. Her arm tightened around Anna’s shoulders. “For not inviting you out to the Ruby Lounge.”

Anna snorted. “Try again.”

“For being a freak.”

“You’re—”

“By that I mean, for trying to be someone who doesn’t need you. It’s—” Elsa cast her gaze around the apartment for inspiration. “It’s—complicated, Anna.”

Anna examined Elsa closely, her eyes shining with open curiosity. She opened her mouth to press some more—then shut it again and relaxed into Elsa’s side, relishing in this miraculous opportunity to do so.

“I’m sure it is,” Anna said. She picked at a stray thread on the knee of Elsa’s leggings. “Lucky for us, we have time to figure it out.”

Elsa’s chuckle ruffled Anna’s hair. Her voice dropped to a murmur: “You’re a fucking treasure, you know that?”

#elsanna #October 2023 contest #prompt: water #submission

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sinterblackwell · 4 months

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kay's favorite reads of 2023

and with that, my 2023 reading year has finally come to a close 🙏🏾

i haven't talked as much about books this year as i did in 2022, but i really did have a good time (with some tears.....)!! i discovered a whole new batch of books in the danmei genre that made my year and completely transformed my tastes; or just feels like it had :')

i read 76 books, all the way up to the last day, and it ended on a very high note, which i'm glad. i had fun writing this, as much as i could.

just something for me to look back on!!

if there's something i'm very consistent with, it's how much i write, so....there's the annual warning. but this is a passion project!! so that's all that matters.

honorable mentions:

lor (monstrous, #7) - lily mayne

--. what originally was meant to be a novella turned into a 600-page novel that is the longest of the entire series to date. i became a huge fan of lily mayne since 2022 because of this series, and i was absolutely delighted to get to continue it in the beginning of this year. at first, the story did read as a novella because of how contained it was, as if lor & jugs were living in this bubble. many clues, however, hinted that that bubble would break eventually-- political turmoil due to lor's position as the Moric and the fact that jug's human world has not yet fell into an apocalyptic state since this book is set in the 80s.

i genuinely became obsessed with the story once the plot kicked in around the middle, but i also admired how much the author put into the worldbuilding of this monster realm that our earlier monstrous characters had only been referencing up to this point. and it was absolutely amazing, but with a ton of faults that showed no world, even without any humans, is exempt from some messy politics. the fact that lor was so avoidant in his position causes a lot of upheaval, but his character arc in this story was very well-done, and it made for a very emotional read with all the events near the end. the author clearly got to have a lot of fun with this story in its setting and i look forward to seeing what will come when these characters meet with our earlier cast in the next book.

translations - brian friel

--. this was something i read for my irish literature course in the spring, and i ate it up in less than 2 hours at most. i don't read many plays and don't anticipate myself changing that fact in the future, but i had such a pleasant time with this one!! i think what made it so profound was having the text written out in front of me and yet i could visualize it so clearly as if i was following the script all along while the characters were performing on a stage.

this story is about the start of the end for the irish language, set in a small, rural town known as baile beag. having this play written entirely in english when these characters were majorly speaking irish is a connection that will stick with me for a long time, and it made the story so much more bleak because these characters weren't aware of what was to come.

my professor is so passionate about irish history, and felt just the same with this play. i got to take part in some very interesting discussions of the story while in class, and so now, a dream of mine would be to get to see this play in person someday :')

how to say i do - tal bauer

--. we cannot have a 2023 reading wrap-up without a tal bauer mention. despite not reading as much from him this year (mainly because i already read most of everything he wrote in 2022.....), i was glad to have this title to come back to more than once every couple of months. wyatt & noël are my most favorite tal bauer couple, next to sasha & sergey from the executive saga, and i just found them so sweet.

wyatt is one of the purest characters i have ever read; you can find no fault with him and his sweetheart persona. i loved how the author explored his own personal arc in the story due to the grief he held for his murdered father that he lost some time ago. he moved through that grief by taking care of his younger brother and working his ass off on the winery business he worked on together with his dad, and also the fields that this wine comes from. this land he grew up in is his home, and noël becomes a part of it as well.

this is a story about healing and finding peace with the people who care for you, and i adored it so much.

qiāng jìn jiǔ - tang jiuqing

--. there are no rules that can tell me i am not allowed to include this story here when i got through over 50% of it, and it is over 2,000 pages long. yes, i may not have gotten to finish it by this point, but i still consider it one of my greatest reading achievements. the story has such a huge cast of characters and very in-depth world politics, full with schemes and court intrigue, as well as betrayal and yearning.

it holds a very strong place in my heart because of the experience i have with it since i could only get to start reading it by surfing through a Chinese website and doing some rough translations. i was very determined to get started on it and actually paid some money that was ensured to go towards the author just so i could gain access to the fan translation. it is one of the best translations i ever had the fortune to read, and i got to pull a lot of my favorite quotes from it while gushing about the story with a friend.

that same friend did a very meaningful thing and found an epub of this translation before it got taken down since seven seas publishing has officially licensed it recently. i am very happy to see what it will look like in that version set to come in its first volume in june 2024, but i'm even more ecstatic to have this epub to finish the fan translation first. i hope to be done by this in the new year, so we'll see.

my summer of you - nagisa furuya

--. this is a comfort series for me, and i will always love that i got to read the first two volumes during the summer when the story was set. i couldn't get to read the third volume until early december, but the spirit of the season still shined through and i had such a nice time with these characters. the art was very neat and brought a smile to my face because of how adorable these characters looked, especially wataru as in the third volume, he ends up just looking more & more like an angry kitten.

i loved that even though there's no discernible plot to each volume, i still get to see this development in the established relationship between chiharu and wataru. their mutual love for film is what brought them together as close friends, and it's what nurtures the romantic feelings they grow for the other that are depicted in very soft panels. i'm not quite sure if there's more volumes to come, but for the ones that we have now, i'll cherish them for being something comforting to come back to when i need something light.

+ the art of cruelty - butchgoth (gremlingirl)

--. cue more self-indulgence!! because yes!! this is fanfiction!! beefleaf fanfiction in particular, inspired from mxtx's heaven official's blessing, but now set in an alternate universe where these characters live today. it was over 300,000 words, which effectively made it roughly over 500 pages, single-spaced; and for that, i will count it as part of my reading goal, so technically.....i've read 77 books this year <3

i just feel sentimental about this fic since it was the first one i read from the tgcf fandom. i discovered it on ao3 immediately after catching all the way up to vol.5 (which was the most recent volume published by seven seas at the time i picked up the series in january). it had all the drama of the canon series, but instead of ghosts & heavenly officals, we had these characters part of the mafia. a lot happened, and these characters' morality felt even more muddled than they were in canon (because duh.....the fucking mafia).

i think what my most favorite thing that i got from it was seeing the brotherhood relationship between hua cheng & he xuan. in the actual series, there isn't much depiction of any closeness in their dynamic, but the tgcf fandom took the bare minimum and expanded on it greatly; this fic is one of the biggest examples of that.

i came to this title for he xuan & shi qingxuan, and it absolutely delivered, but i also got to get attached to some of the other relationships as well (again, he xuan & hua cheng; i'm a sucker for sibling relationships, so i wasn't surprised when this happened).

and now for my top 10 favorite reads of the year!!

. . .

10. given (vol.5) - natsuki kizu

i had been wanting to read this series for a long time, actually. what always stopped me was the fact i had never gotten into manga and had a bit of trouble reading any graphic novels. i was someone who felt more comfortable with regular novels as i found myself feeling distant from the few graphic novels i read before this year.

what ultimately broke this pattern was my reading of our dining table in june, which became the first manga i ever read & completed. it was a contemporary romance that was very light & sweet, and involved a small family who were brought together through the love of homecooked meals. the art was one of the most striking things from the story for me; the little child, tane, having some of the most adorable illustrations i've ever seen.

after reading this manga, i started dipping my toes a little more into the genre, until i ultimately got to the given series, whose art is some of my most favorites of all manga, next to old-fashioned cupcake. what always got to me was how this is a story about music, and how much it means differently for the characters we meet here. my favorite thing about it was how the art made this music these characters were playing feel even more alive, as if i could actually hear it. the art was very expressive and the music resonated so deeply, i loved it so much.

volume 5 ended up connecting to me way more than i expected, and it was just all because a side character, ugetsu murata. we get to meet him in a previous volume, but learn even more about him here and it was all a very emotional read.

his relationship with akihiko hurt me a lot because i had met them when they were already nearing the end, and there was so much pain and resentment that lied deeply in this relationship, that i found myself grieving for what they had in the beginning (even though i wasn't even there to actually witness it??). you could sense the significance of their relationship despite that though, and their goodbye scene ultimately broke me due to (and no surprise here) the incredible artwork.

finding out ugetsu has garnered some mixed feelings from the given fandom was no surprise to me, but it made me love him more because i really did see a connection in him. his personal attachment to music as a renowned violin player is a story i would love to see more about, but he's not necessarily the main character, so...

the good part is his dynamic with mafuyu, who is one of the main characters. i love seeing them when they're together and i like to think that they do become close friends.

9. heaven official's blessing (vol.6) - mò xiāng tóng xiù

this volume was where we finally got to the white-clothed calamity arc, the most painful arc of the entire series that the tgcf fandom was absolutely dreading. it had all the trauma and heartbreak and grief and more, and it was the best arc i read from this series.

we got to see xie lian at his lowest after the fall of Xianle, and i just think one of the most striking things was how hua cheng played a role during this time. this was a point where xie lian & hua cheng weren't familiar to each other in the way they were now at the present timeline of the story, but they still had crossed paths in some shape and literal form very early on. hua cheng, or otherwise, wu ming, in this arc played a very pivotal role in his witness of xie lian's darkest point. to see him absolutely inconsolable because there was no way for him to reach out and protect the person he already loved with his whole being was painful to read. there had always been this quote that the fandom always loves to reference from hua cheng himself, and it all hurt so much more deeply when i saw what he was talking about.

"To watch with your own eyes your beloved be trampled and ridiculed, yet be unable to do anything, that's the worst suffering in the world."

ah so yeah, this volume is my most favorite of the series :') i have very fond feelings for the entire story because it was my first introduction to the world of danmei, and i am way too sentimental for my own good, so of course it had to be on this list.

8. peach blossom debt - da feng gua guo

at this point, i read quite a bit of danmei, and this one happened to be one of the few that didn't come from word of mouth but simple coincidence. this is a story from an author who's not as well-known as mxtx or priest, and i feel very disheartened about that because this danmei was something else (positive).

there's some stories you know you'll love immediately, while others you're not as sure of at first. this was the case of the latter, as the writing style seemed worlds apart from what i had become familiar with in most danmei i had read, and i found the first-person pov to be a very interesting way to handle the narrative. what first started out as a comedic and very ridiculous tale turned into a tragic character arc where song yao, the mc, seemed to have been cursed to repeat this cycle of loneliness that he's had to endure since before he even ascended. i found the twist that happened around the last quarter of the story to be somewhat convoluted in execution, but still overwhelmingly moving looking at the fact that i ended up sending a teary voice message to a friend.

in hindsight, that reaction was very dramatic of me, but all feelings were sincere. this is because the plot twist just absolutely changed everything that i thought i had grasped well from the story up to that point. i had gotten invested in the friendship between song yao and hengwen, the latter being the first & only person who alleviated that feeling of isolation that song yao had become so used to. he was someone who made song yao's ascension feel less overwhelming and brought his own humor & light to their dynamic, which made me ship them hard. when this twist came, it didn't ruin that dynamic, but in an even more ironic heartbreak, it made it seem more forbidden. the romance just became something so much more, and seeing everything that followed after the twist felt like a dream that made me love the story more than i expected i would.

if there's one meme i'd love to float around, it's the popular "would you love me if i was a worm?"; because as this story shows, the answer from one character to another is yes :') and i am obsessed with them for that.

7. stars of chaos (vol.1) - priest

the worldbuilding. the worldbuilding absolutely plays a strong part in this steampunk fantasy, and the main couple did, too <3

i think among all historical danmei, this, thousand autumns, and qiāng jìn jiǔ are much more a grounded visualization of ancient China and its events as it was studied in the books. my favorite thing about stars of chaos is that it still had this touch of innovation and magic that made it a thousand times more compelling than it would've been without. i found the idea of violet gold being seen as the center of all the machinery that exists in this time period such an interesting hook for the story, and chang geng's pov felt absolutely perfect for telling it, in a case of secret identities and and cursed ambitions.

his dynamic with another character, who we come to know as gu yun, is some of my most favorite of all danmei. as of recently, thanks to a couple ao3 fics, i feel even more like i'm bursting with love for them both.

i'm only really at the beginning with this story since we only have this first volume at the time i'm writing this. however, the second one is due to come in early january 2024 and i am so hyped for it. again, the story is really innovative and there's some action & mystery that pulled me in deeply. i'm really excited to get more to the root of it as each volume comes out and the tension grows even stronger.

6. lip and sword (vol.2) - jin shisi chai

because this is just the kind of person that i am, of course one of my top favorite reads of 2023 would be of a series that i finished on the last day of the year :')

there's so much i've already talked about regarding this volume on goodreads (x), but i really consider this series to be a precious gem to me because of how severely underrated it is (and i also mean that literally....the third volume only has 32 ratings on gr, including mine). of course, this series might be receiving much more pleasant feedback in other circles, as goodreads isn't the center of everything. however, there's no fandom to speak of that i have been able to access, and so it's made for a very lonely reading experience.

what made up for it, though, was how truly genius the story was. it's one of the very few modern danmei i've read, and it circles around the world of Chinese journalism, uncovering news stories that end up shaking the narrative in such a brilliant way. the author is so smart, and i got to meet one of my most favorite fictional characters of the year, xing ming. he's cold, logical, and on the edge of frustrating when it comes to how little he cares for the consideration of his colleagues, which makes him cross lines that shake up the story even more.

the romance between him & yu zhongye was....absolutely perfect; i feel gobsmacked at how perfect this series was to me in all its flawed characters and a fractured society fueled by the media. so much of it felt really intense and the translation, even with the few grammatical errors it had, did a really good job sharing the author's intent with the volumes. i really loved this...

--. note: this is where the list gets a little blurry, as these next 4 are practically interchangeable. the #1 spot is the most solid. i'm obsessed with them all, and having them on this list is all that really matters .--

5. the scum villain's self-saving system (vol.2) - mò xiāng tóng xiù

thanks to the absolutely chaotic svsss fandom, i got even more attached to this series in the months after i had finished it. i feel very fond for this community of readers who were just as obsessed with mxtx's debut as i was, and with this volume, i hold it even more dearly.

it was very chaotic. despite only being in shen qingqiu's pov, i loved how the author managed to convey everyone else's emotions in the series of events that occur. i already said this in the mid-year freakout tag, but it made things so laughable yet also so fucking sad for sqq to see himself apart from everyone else as he comes from the "real world". those like luo binghe are only capable of following the script from the original story and so in all the times lbh chases after his shizun, it only inspires more fear & sadness in sqq knowing what happens in the story they're following.

to be fair for him, honestly, lbh doesn't make it any easy to think differently because of some of his stalking behavior, but again, the author was able to convey lbh's heartbreak so clearly in their interactions. i am a sucker for angst and so to see two characters who are basically having two different conversations without realizing it, it made this volume a standout for me.

also, svsss is my favorite mxtx novel, by the way.

4. king of death (folk, #3) - lily mayne

ash in his self-destruction era :')

his pov is what really turned the story for me because i had been with him since the first book, mortal skin. he had been through so much deception after already reeling over the grief of the parents that raised him.

he was tortured to the point of death in efforts to shed his human skin and make him become full fae. he was led to believe that the love of his life, lonan, had been the one to deal the killing blow to said parents. he loses his arm as he was fighting to run somewhere safe away from the unseelie realm due to the evil plans of lonan's mother. he finally met his birth mother, who turned out to be a just as sickening as she saw him as a curse from the moment of conception; she wanted nothing more than to sap all his power away that she saw as rightfully hers.

he's forced to kill an innocent to conceal his identity in a public affair. he recovers all his lost memories of lonan and is left reeling over all the interactions they shared where he couldn't even remember him. he's thrust with the title of king of seelie and all its obligations in the face of those who dealt with centuries of tyrannical rule under his birth mother.

and then now we get to this book!! where he clutches so badly to the one good & normal thing he has left in his life....lonan. it was like they existed in this bubble where it was just them two as it was in mortal skin, and it was exactly when ash started falling in love with him. reliving this feeling, of course ash would want to have them stick together; but lonan had his own obligations.

it got to the point where ash had all these excuses ready for why lonan should stay with him, so readily able to ignore signs that say otherwise, that the forests that serve as the bridge between the seelie & unseelie folk was rotting away. what once was something really light and a force of good with them staying together ended up almost becoming a thing of the past.

it was such a long road with this story, and so heartbreaking. i just loved how the author was so consistent in the development of ash's character journey, and there was almost a point where it felt like he was so close to falling off the edge, but his brother, nua, is who pulls him back. i will always be so thankful for nua's presence in this book; it did everything.

and i'm also just glad that at the end of all this angst and hardship, ash & lonan do make it through. it was a hard-won fought :')

my reading experience with this series started over a year and i'm just really happy to have loved this finale as much as i did. it feels like i've giving it a proper send-off.

---. i've unfortunately reached the stage where my energy is starting to dwindle. but now we've gotten to the top 3 and just to say, i'm glad that i found these stories and everything that was listed before.

3. the husky & his white cat shizun (vol.3) - rou bao bu chi rou

taxian-jun was really the star for me in this one. that's all.

”Mo Ran, wake up already. Wake up…”

“I am awake! I’m perfectly fucking awake! You’re the one who’s asleep! Are you blind?! Are you blind, Chu Wanning! …

“As far as you’re concerned, his life is a life, but mine counts for nothing. Is that it?!” In his fury, Mo Ran grabbed Chu Wanning’s hand and pressed it to his bloody wound.

“Didn’t you want to stop me? Here’s your chance; go on then, dig out my heart! Chu Wanning, why don’t you just dig out my fucking heart?!”

2ha, my beloved <3

2. remnants of filth (vol.2) - rou bao bu chi rou

here's a series of quotes that broke my heart:

Mo Xi thought, if only he could see straight in. If only he could cruelly tear this man apart, pierce him through--if only he could get a good look at the secrets in his bones, the currents in his blood, the filth in his soul. If he could see how dirty the man kneeling before him was, perhaps he'd let go of this persistent attachment.

Give me your hand. No matter how dirty you are, I will embrace you. No matter how much it hurts, I will stay with you. No matter how far it is, I will bring you home.

So much hatred, so much love, and so much agony. An agony worse than death.

i really look forward to volume three; it can't come soon enough. the story of mo xi and gu mang hurts a lot :')

1. the missing piece - kun yi wei lou

Their eyes met, and the world was silent. The start of spring had just passed. The weather was especially good that day, with no clouds in the sky for miles. But Ji Mingxuan seemed to feel that only now did the rain that had lingered in his heart truly stop.

(x).

#❣️#truly the year of danmei #danmei #booklr #yearly reading wrap up

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thatone-highlighter · 2 years

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A SINGLE PALE ROSE GRGRHDHDBDHSH,, I don’t have a ton to say (especially since it’s been years since I’ve watched most of su) but PLEASE rant about a single pale rose I beg

Man A Single Pale Rose. That episode was such a turning point it was huge when it came out. For ages one of the biggest debates in the fandom was between the people who thought Rose was Pink Diamond, and the people who thought that the people who thought Rose was PD were idiots. I was part of the latter group i thought there was no way that could possibly be true its just one of those crazy theories that doesn’t make any sense. And then Single Pale Rose happened and shook Everything

Single Pale Rose Single Handedly causes the entire rest of the season, if Steven hadn’t decided then and there to push on it if Pearl hadn’t managed to find a way to actually tell him. If it hadnt have happened the diamonds would have shown up and the crystal gems would have lost, the only reason they don’t is that Steven manages to tell them hes PD, if it had of been a little later the diamonds would have arrived in the middle of That emotional debacle

One part of the episode i really like is how it builds up, it gives you hints and implications as the episode goes on so by the time the actual reveal happens and you see Rose shapeshift into PD you pretty much already know where the scene is going. I just think its a clever way to do it and also the whole pearl-ception thing with pearl inside pearl inside pearl inside pearl inside pearl’s pearl, its played for a joke but has some interesting implications about how gems memories work and weather it applies to all gems or if Pearl is specific in that way

The way Rose is portrayed throughout the series is really interesting to me, people have said it before but her arc really is shown in reverse. The first mentions the audience gets of her is characters praising her and making her look like the most perfect person in the world, placing her high up on this pedestal that everyone put her on and making Steven think he has to try to live up to what everyone else says about Rose, then as season 1 and 2 go on theres little bits and pieces, we find out maybe she wasn’t completely perfect and had some flaws but she was still really really good. And then come season 3 the real cracks start to show, she poofed and bubbled Bismuth and hid it from everyone for some unclear reason, i feel like theres smthn else but im blanking, and then in the last three eps of the season, Beta, Back To The Moon, and Bubbled, its all shattered (he) when we find out Rose Killed somebody, also retroactively making the Bismuth thing worse. And then barely a season and a half later it’s revealed that Rose and the person she killed, are the same person. And that messes with everything. Now she looks like this awful person who lied to everyone who ever cared about her and caused the deaths of thousands of people by staging a stupid war where she was the head of both sides. And then with the movie and future we learn about Pink Pearl and Spinel and how theyve been treated.

And thats the order her arc is presented in because thats the order Steven learns about it in. And so Rose goes from a saint Steven could never dream of living up to, to someone Steven never wants to be anything like. But if you reorganise everything into chronological order, while shes still not a great person and still did some awful awful things, you can see her intentions and that she really wasnt a malicious party in all this. She starts off a kid, and being treated like one by the people she craves to be seen as a equal by. Shes mistreated by the people around her and so tries to get their attention the only way she knows how, by throwing tantrums. Eventually she manages to get her own colony and almost instantly she sees whats wrong with what they’re doing, shes likely never had the chance to see the process in action so she never got it until then. She tries and tries to go back on what shes said but the other diamonds wont let her, so she makes a drastic choice that then has consequences she hadn’t considered. And an all out war breaks out, but shes too deep by now, she can just come out and say what shes done nobody will ever take her seriously ever again, so she has to end it on her own. And she does the war ends. She didnt know what the diamonds would do after she didnt know about the cluster or the gem experiments or the corruption song, if she’d known maybe she would have made a different choice, maybe she wouldnt have who knows. And then she spends the rest of her days loving and protecting the world she fought so hard for, living with the knowledge of the things shes done, and she tries to be better.

#i love su sm fr fr #i didnt know if be able to write that much about single pale rose but ig i scammed it by going on about rose herself instead #sgdjdhgsgsgsghd #considering its such a HUGE episode i really couldnt think of much to say about SPR #id have a lot more to say about the fallout of SPR but as a stand alone not much #the ending is so funny tho like. what was going on ghe other two were there #imagine if they hadnt been. imagine if steven had of dropped back out into an empty room and then had to go tell pol #do u think he would have waited. would pearl have been able to help him or is him knowing not enough the others needed to know too #the end of that episode is so funny tho just Amethyst’s ‘whaaaaa’ and the ep cuts to credits #especially since on the airings the credits olayed over a trailer for the next episodes #and the trailed had Amethyst’s line from NWOFA of ‘so youre telling me rose quarts leader of the crystal gems was actually pink diamond???!’#peak comedy shout out #Tree Man Posts #asks #steven universe #single pale rose

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letsplayballet · 1 year

Text

making this its own post bc a) i've done the next scene finally, and b) maybe if it gets notes this time i'll be able to convince myself to write more of this thing that's been living in my head for 5 years now

anyway. persona 5 tv studio/justice rank 1 be upon ye.

~*~

The instant Akechi enters the studio, the unsettled feeling Akira had had in the hallway the day before returns full force.

“Ain’t that the guy from yesterday?” Ryuji mutters- for once quiet enough to not garner attention, though that could easily be because everyone around them is too busy cheering. Akira gives a shallow nod. He’s not even sure if Ryuji notices, or if he was actually asking him in the first place, but he can’t take his eyes off of Akechi for long enough to check. There’s something in the back of his mind screaming danger!, like they’re in a palace and the teen smiling pleasantly on stage is a shadow, about to round a corner and sound the alarm on them.

It doesn’t make sense, he can’t help but think as the show goes live. He doesn’t know Akechi, had only heard his name a few times in passing before yesterday, and nothing Akira has heard or seen has given him any reason to be this suspicious of him. For all that he works with the police, he seems nice enough, if a little awkward; kind of in a similar way to Yusuke, actually, with those weird comments on pancakes in their last conversation-

(that uncomfortable tension rises, sharpens, why does it feel like he’s missing something)

-but on the whole he seems… genuine. Startlingly so, actually. Akira has lived and breathed masks for a while now: he’s had several of them himself, and has learned how to recognize them in others, a talent which has only gotten stronger since this whole business with personas and the metaverse. He can nearly see the seams on the hosts as they chat with Akechi, the bubbly entertainer personalities of their jobs overlaying who they actually are, and they’re professionals. Their livelihoods depend on these masks, on their ability to make them seem genuine, and they’re good enough that Akira is sure that, even if other people know the masks are there, no one else can see them the way he can.

Akechi says something, giving a wry little grin, that sets the audience laughing, and Akira can’t see any hint of a mask.

It’s possible he doesn’t have one, of course. But- he’s a celebrity, and in high school, and people in either of those situations don’t tend to last long without some sort of protection between them and the outside world, at least not with decent mental health, and Akira can’t see his mask-

“However, if these Phantom Thieves are real, I believe they should be tried in a court of law.”

Akira’s circling thoughts come screeching to a halt. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ryuji and Ann both tense.

“That’s quite the statement,” the male host says seriously, his raised eyebrows the only sign of his surprise. “Are they committing crimes? Some people even say that the Thieves are actually helping their victims abandon their evil ways.”

Akira feels Ryuji bristle at Madarame and Kamoshida being called victims, and he presses his own knee against his friend’s thigh. I know, he tries to tell him with the contact, but now’s not the time. Some of it must come through, because Ryuji huffs out a breath and sits back in his chair, tense and glaring but less ready to jump into a fight.

On stage, Akechi frowns. “What the artist Madarame did was truly an unforgivable crime,” he says, just the barest hint of something severe in his voice. “However, the Phantom Thieves are taking the law into their own hands by judging him. It is far from justice.”

There’s a murmur through the crowd, and Akira looks over to find Ann already looking back at him, seeming as conflicted as he feels. It’s one thing to talk these sorts of concerns over with your teammates; to hear them repeated in this sort of a setting…

“More importantly,” Akechi continues, drawing the team’s attention back to him, “we have no idea how they are causing these supposed ‘changes of heart’, but I would highly doubt it’s the result of a friendly conversation. Blackmail would be the least concerning option, and that is a crime, regardless of intention.”

“You have a point,” the male host says. “These people are calling themselves the Phantom Thieves, after all.”

Which isn’t really wrong either, especially for people who can’t conceive of the metaverse. There probably isn’t an explanation even close to the truth that they could give that would be believed, much less not construed as some sort of crime.

“Now then,” the female host says brightly, “lets try asking some students the same age as Akechi-kun about the Phantom Thieves! First, please press your buttons now if you believe the Phantom Thieves exist!”

Ryuji presses his button immediately, and with quite a bit more force than necessary. Akira hesitates, but also presses his own button. A few seconds pass, and the flashing numbers reveal that about a third of the audience has also pressed their buttons, which is a much higher percentage than Mishima’s site shows.

(Akira can’t help but wonder if it’s just the age range of the audience, or the fact that many of the students here have now witnessed two of these incidents, where the rest of the world has really only seen the one.)

“That’s a bit higher than I was expecting,” Akechi says, unknowingly mimicking Akira’s own thoughts. “I’d love to hear some more detailed opinions on the Phantom Thieves’ actions.”

The female host stands, scanning the audience as she walks towards them- and then comes to a stop in front of Akira.

Ryuji, who hasn’t relaxed since the start of the interview, somehow manages to tense even further. Ann takes in a quick, startled breath through her nose. Akira can feel everyone’s eyes on him through his panic, and he tries to school his face into pleased excitement, like being on TV was the best he could have hoped for today and he’s just trying to make the most of his spotlight.

“Why don’t we ask this student here?” the host asks, cheerful. She’s just a little too loud this close to him, and he hopes that his discomfort isn’t as obvious as it feels. “Hypothetically speaking, what are your thoughts on these Phantom Thieves, if they are real?”

There’s an anticipatory note to the silence now, and Akira is reminded again of the feeling of infiltrating a palace, though this time he can’t tell where the danger lurks. He clears his throat.

“If they are real, I think what they’ve done is quite noble.”

“Oh really?” Akechi says, cutting off the host before she can even begin to reply. The attention on him feels like a physical weight now. “How so?”

Akira shrugs, trying to seem unaffected. “Well, you said yourself that what Madarame did was unforgivable. It seems as though he hurt a great many people, but no one has been able to come forward until he confessed to his crimes himself. His reputation protected him for a long time, but he can’t hurt anyone else anymore. I can’t see how that’s anything other than a good thing.”

He’s being reckless, he knows, even without Morgana’s claws digging into his ankle through his bag. But between Akechi’s unsettling demeanor he still can’t figure out, the tension he can feel thrumming through his friends, the considering murmurs he can hear in the crowd, and his own persona in the back of his mind, he can’t quite convince himself that it’s a bad decision. Even if it puts undue attention on him, if he can redirect the focus onto the good the Phantom Thieves have done, maybe this show won’t be the utter disaster it’s starting to feel like.

“I must say I agree with you in that much,” Akechi says, sounding faintly surprised- though whether it’s at Akira’s words or his own agreement with them, it’s hard to tell. “But what of their methods? Do they not concern you?”

“What methods?” Akira challenges. “For all we know, these ‘Thieves’ are nothing more than fictional boogeymen, created to try to scare a terrible man. Can you say with certainty that Madarame hasn’t carried a guilty conscience all these years, and this is just what pushed him over the edge?”

Akechi leans forward, elbow on his knees, and the look he’s leveling at Akira is both considering and… something else. Excited, maybe?

“Not with complete certainty, no,” Akechi allows. “But it seems highly irrational that one would commit crimes of such magnitude for such an extended length of time if one carried any guilt over the matter.”

“I would argue that it seems highly irrational to commit such crimes in the first place, regardless of the perpetrators personal feelings.”

“I suppose it depends on your working definition of ‘rational’, but that could be a whole other argument, and I believe we’ve gotten far enough off topic. I’ll ask again, more clearly: if we are supposing the Phantom Thieves are real, that there is a person or group of people who have somehow convinced a previously unrepentant criminal to willingly turn himself in, does the method of this convincing not worry you at all? During the whole of his interrogation, Madarame has claimed no knowledge of or interaction with these Thieves outside of the calling card posted at his exhibit. If someone close to you- for example, your friend next to you- suddenly had a complete change in personality, what would you think? How much could the Phantom Thieves change him, without anyone knowing for sure how or why?”

Akira pauses for a moment, mind racing, not at all liking where this questioning is going. He tilts his head at Ryuji, considering, until-

He blinks at Akechi up on the stage, twists his face into a confused frown, and (promising he’ll apologize to Ryuji as soon as he gets the chance) asks, “Would the Phantom Thieves make him study for his exams?”

“Dude!” Ryuji says, loud and betrayed. Ann bursts into giggles. The laughter spreads through the audience, and Akira is painfully grateful that no one else seems to notice Ryuji’s white-knuckled grip on his chair, or how incredibly forced and fake Ann’s laughter is.

Akechi, after a second, also starts to laugh. “Alright, maybe that was a bad example,” he says, and he has the same even and easy-going tone he’s had the whole show, but for a split second Akira sees- something. A crack, just the barest hint of something other than a calm and collected teen detective.

Interesting.

“My point, however, remains,” Akechi continues as the host returns to the stage, slip already smoothed over. “Whether the Thieves’ actions are good or not, the fact that they could hold this much sway over a formerly unrepentant criminal could have alarming implications, even if we trust them to only be pursuing people like Madarame. Should they decide this isn’t enough… the existence of the Phantom Thieves would be nothing but a threat to our everyday lives.”

~*~

Ryuji, thankfully, accepts his apology with an easy grin and a “Pay for the ramen next time and we’ll call it even.” They spend the rest of the recording a bit more relaxed, bickering quietly during breaks about what sorts of food qualify as “sorry for throwing you under the bus” material. (Ann argues that ramen is insufficient, but eventually concedes to Akira’s point that it kind of depends on the bus.)

After another hour or so, they’re free to go. Ann rushes out pretty quick, having a shoot on the other side of the city she doesn’t want to be late for, and Ryuji has to run to the batroom, so Akira has tucked himself into a corner to wait and is checking his phone when he hears, “Oh! There you are!”

Akechi approaches him confidently, seeming not to notice the stares and whispers that follow him all the way to Akira’s corner. Or, no; he seems very aware of them, but not like he especially cares, in a casual sort of way that does nothing to ease the alarm going down Akira’s spine.

“Detective,” Akira greets. There’s a bit of a tease in his tone, too familiar for someone he’s spoken to twice, but Akechi barely reacts.

“Oh, please, Akechi is perfectly sufficient. Anyway, I’m glad I caught you; I wanted to thank you in person.”

Akira can feel his eyebrows rise, and this time the confusion isn’t affected at all. “Thank me?”

(He wishes he had the comforting weight of his dagger in his hand. He wonders when that weight became comforting, as opposed to strange and vaguely alarming.)

Akechi smiles, distant and professional. “To paraphrase Hegel, advancement cannot occur without both thesis and antithesis.”

One of Akira’s eyebrows drops. The other remains arched slightly above the rim of his glasses, unimpressed. Akechi’s vague smile shifts into a more rueful grin.

“Sorry. What I mean is that our discussion today was quite meaningful. Few people around me are so willing to speak their minds as freely as you did earlier. It frequently makes for dull conversation; it’s been some time since I felt as though I had to work to keep up with someone, especially in the context of a debate.”

“I appreciate the compliment, though I’m not sure it’s entirely deserved,” Akira says slowly. “I’m glad you got something out of it though, and not just the station.”

“Nervous about your television debut?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Not quite,” Akechi says with a laugh. “It’s hard to be nervous about reporters and entertainers when you’ve had to interrogate violent criminals. Regardless, you have nothing to worry about. You handled both yourself and the conversation quite well. If you hadn’t confirmed it just now, I wouldn’t have suspected this was new territory for you. You must be quite a fan of these Phantom Thieves, to defend them so eloquently.”

Morgana shifts suddenly in Akira’s bag, a warning he doesn’t really need. Akechi’s expression remains open and vaguely pleasant, giving no sign that he especially cares about what Akira has to say, but there’s a tension that wasn’t there before, that makes it clear that one wrong step will send him plummeting.

Well. Akechi did say he likes a challenge.

It just so happens, Akira is discovering, that he’s not the only one.

(He’s so gonna get an earful from Morgana for this.)

Akira gives a bit of a grimace. “I don’t know that I’d say ‘fan’, necessarily.”

There’s a beat of silence, and while Akechi’s expression changes very little, there’s definitely a note of surprise. “Oh really? What would you say then?”

“You have a point,” Akira begins slowly, “worrying about their methods. Assuming they’re real, it’s clear whatever they’re doing is effective. Having that much potential power, but no oversight into what they’re doing… well, it’s the same reason a lot of people don’t trust politicians, or police. I imagine the only reason the Phantom Thieves are being viewed positively by anyone is because of the results they’re achieving.”

“In contrast to politicians and police,” Akechi says dryly, with a bitter note that Akira wasn’t expecting. “So you think the ends justify the means?”

“Not at all,” Akira shoots back. “But aren’t these ends worth pursuing? Madarame’s arrest has improved so many lives, and from what I’ve seen online has encouraged people in similar situations to stand up for themselves, no Thieves required. Isn’t exposing injustices worthwhile, Detective?”

Akechi’s face grows serious at the slight. “No one should be above the law, regardless of results.”

“No one should be. But plenty of people already are, aren’t they? Madarame clearly was, until the law couldn’t look the other way anymore.”

“… You’re right,” Akechi says, stony expression softening. “Apologies, for losing my temper a bit there. This is just… something I have very strong feelings about.”

“No worries,” Akira says. “I did needle you. My point is, as glad I am for what these Phantom Thieves may have done, I don’t think we know enough about them to call myself a fan.”

Akechi gives a huff of a laugh. “We do have a bit of a habit of getting off topic, don’t we? Not that I’m complaining; it’s remarkably good stimulation. In fact… would you be willing to exchange contact information? You’ve been such a wonderful debate partner, I think it would do us both good to continue having these sorts of discussions.”

Claws dig into Akira’s back through his bag. And really, Morgana is right. Akira definitely should not give his information to the guy who’s trying to catch him and his friends.

“Absolutely,” Akira says with a grin.

As they exchange numbers and Akira feels the certainty of a confidante click into place within him, he can’t even regret it.

He walks away when Akechi does, though, moving just outside of the studio in the hopes of getting a little privacy so that Morgana can start chewing him out now instead of trying to do it on the train. He finds an empty spot in the hallway where Ryuji (hopefully) won’t miss him, then slides his bag under his arm and opens it.

“Listen,” he starts, “I know it’s risky to get too close to someone like him, but I really think we can-”

“Akira!”

He stops, shocked. Morgana, for all that he likes to hear his own voice, rarely interrupts. Looking down properly at him, Akira realizes that Morgana doesn’t look mad like he’d expected. Instead, he looks… scared.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He can hear Morgana’s tail lashing inside his bag. “I, I know we talked last night about how something seemed off, and I realized, while you were talking to him… I’m the only one of us that said the word ‘pancakes’ yesterday.”

Akira stares blankly at him for a few seconds, before the realization of what, exactly, that implies hits him like a well placed zionga.

“… Fuck.”

#getting to the okumura arc in my royal replay made me want to come back and finish this lol #it was fun trying to make an argument that *actually* would have constituted a debate instead of the 2 sentences you get in game #whether i succeeded in actually making it *interesting* is probably up to personal preference #but! here it is #p5r #p5 #also for my own tags:#quinn (re)plays p5r #it's only tangential but it's related and i do want it there #persona 5 #my fic #????? i guess I'll tag that too. sure why not.

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capt-spooki3 · 2 years

Text

A Musical Confession

Chapter One: Lovers Rock

Characters: Eddie Munson and Gn!Reader

Warnings: cursing, id call this slow burn(ish), nothin else its just sweet

After attending enough of his shows at The Hideout, Eddie finally decided to approach you and with an offer...

5.2k words

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Only because i, personally, am terrible about remembering this:

Gn reader = Gender Neutral reader

Y/LN = Your Last Name(i write it weird so just in case it trips anyone up <3)

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"Alright, so this one is a bit different than our usual uh.." Eddie trailed off, giving his drummer a quick glance and a cocky smile before looking back at the few pairs of eyes watching him. "Style. But we wanted to give it a try. We're calling it, Lovers Rock."

You watched from a booth in the corner, near a window where you could watch the band but keep your space from the drunks since you were alone. You had first taken an interest in Eddie at school where you talked with his friends on occasion, but after learning of their band and where they played, you took a new interest in him at The Hideout every Tuesday that they were scheduled to play. You haven't missed a show yet. Having grown up on rock, their covers and original songs were right up your alley and it always felt nostalgic hearing the songs.

The two of you had talked some, briefly, and not a whole lot was exchanged, but you two certainly had been introduced to one another though that was about it. Not that you didn’t want to get to know him as well as you knew his friends, he was simply… a bit intimidating.

Unlike you, Eddie decided a while ago to wait on you until you were comfortable enough to talk to him. He really wanted to talk to you but felt better if it was on your terms as he was well aware of how people saw him. Though, with your more grunge way of dressing and the fact that you talk to his friends so easily and freely gave him hope that you’d come around.

That didn’t stop him from wondering about you. What you were like, how you talked, your little habits if he made you nervous. But he waited. Until now. Even if his message to you was subtle.

From the stage, things grew alive as they started to play. People perked up as they realized how different this song was starting. Eddie's eyes wandered the crowd but per usual, they found you. He held your gaze as he sang the lines.

"Are you sick of me? Would you like to be?" He raised his brows a bit at the question, almost trying to tell you it was for you. He was a bold man, as everyone knew, but you were far from stupid enough to believe he would write a song to make a confession.

“I’m tryna tell you something. Something that I've already said.” Breaking the eye contact as he continued, unfazed by his own actions. Looking like he was on autopilot but oh, was he aware of what he was doing and quite excited to be executing it.

"You like a pretty boy." A smile couldn't help but pull at his lips. He tried to fight it but especially as he looked at you again, and tried real hard to drop the hints, he felt a little bubble of laughter in his throat at the lyrics which were aimed at himself. All he could do was hope you would realize it. "With a pretty voice."

You furrowed your brows at that. Watching him close now, the tapping of his foot to the beat, the way he strummed and fingered the strings, the way his body swayed just a little as he played and he nodded his head, how a little smile broke when singing certain lyrics, his eyes which floated over the crowd or kept closed unless he was looking your way, the only time he looked like he was really looking at someone. There was a purpose there, you were sure of that.

“But if you’re too drunk to drive and the music is right, she might let you stay. but just for the night.”

He tried hard to keep from looking your way, almost wanting to avoid looking in your direction at all. In case you didn't like it or secretly did see him as weird and a freak like the vast majority. It felt like a magnetic pull to you though. When mention of being together or of a kiss, he just had to check. Had to make sure you were still looking, still interested, still, hopefully, understanding.

“Because love, can burn like a cigarette… and leave you alone with nothing.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he was singing about a memory. A situation he has already been in before that he thought about, unable to get out of his mind for so long that he had to use his creative liberties to help get it off his mind. He probably just enjoyed his creation so much that even as on the nose as it was, he just had to perform it. All that threw you off was his looks at you.

If this was about some lover of his, why was he looking at you the way he was and at the times he was. Looking at you in just the right way to put your heart in your stomach and butterflies so heavy you swear they are going to choke you.

He sang the softness of the lyrics so perfectly like he wasn’t playing Metallica right before this. It tugged at your heartstrings a bit at how much of himself he was practically putting out there with this song, that someone had this much of an effect on him and was on his mind that much. A little part of your mind was longing for it to be you and wishing he was singing about a hopeful scenario with you. The more logical part of yourself hushed the wish, you hardly even knew him and he didn’t know you so in what world would he ever be singing to you, you told yourself over and over.

A sliver of hope couldn't help but remain.

The song came to a slow ending with merged voices singing soft ‘do do do’s behind his round-up of the chorus about cigarettes. The 8 drunks and two tables of people clapped and a few cheered. You joined in, watching as he made a dramatic bow with his arms outstretched and a content look plastered to his face as he scanned the people. A bit of hesitation was there until he got to your spot as if he was checking to see if you stuck around which in turn just made you clap and cheer a little bit louder.

Eddie laughed to himself, flipping his guitar around behind his back. He tentatively worked on putting his guitar pick back on his necklace as Jeff leaned in to tell him they were all going to head to the back room and order food.

“Alright, I’ll be there in just a minute. Take her for me will you?” He asked, already taking his guitar off and handing her over.

You couldn’t help but watch him. As he seemed to get his pick back on his chain, he got off stage and headed your way instead of walking out of sight with his friends. Not wanting to get your hopes up in case he was going to walk to some other table, you looked down to your table before distracting yourself by stirring the ice around your drink.

“You really are persistent with not missing a show, huh?” Eddie said, plopping down in the booth in front of you. Your head popped up and you must have looked pretty surprised as he smiled and let out a little laugh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no you’re fine.” Your nerves couldn’t help but rack up, making it hard to keep your eyes anywhere near him. “Why uh, why are you over here Munson?”

“Ouch, Y/LN, don’t like me that much!?” He leaned forward, hand over his heart and he tried his best to act hurt.

“Well hold on now! You know I didn’t mean that-” You leaned toward him, not being able to help a smile as he furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes at you. “I think you’re lovely, but you never wander over to people after your shows, unless I was just never around for that era, but… whatcha doin’ man?”

Eddie leaned back, holding a small smile as he just stared you down for a moment in silence, making you nervous and a bit flustered as you stubbornly tried to hold eye contact but continued to look away.

“Well… you know how all my friends do our DnD things, yeah? And I know you like them so I was just wondering, would you like to come sit in a session with us?” You just kinda stared at him for a moment in surprise and awe and he decided to busy himself by digging his rings out of his pocket. “I mean you… you can just say no. Just figured maybe that way you can hang with the guys and maybe see that I'm not as big and scary as you might think.”

You leaned back against the booth, crossing your arms as you hummed, watching him as he slowly put his rings back on and tentatively watching you, awaiting an answer.

“When is your next session?”

“And now focusing back on the four of you, as you all walk through the doorway, Dustin you smell,” Eddie stops to smell the air around him and wrinkles his nose in disgust, “Something rather familiar to you.”

“Do I recognize it?” Dustin asks in a whisper, leaning over as he was deep into the game along with the rest of the party. His character has had a lot of familiar encounters this campaign so it was a safe assumption it would happen again.

“Roll a perception check.” Eddie nods his head toward him.

“Uh.. 16.”

“You sniff the air… and it takes you a moment to be able to place your finger on it, but boom,” Eddie snaps and pauses for a second, all eyes on him. “The sickening smell of leather and fire leaves you nauseous.”

“No… nO WAY, YOU’VE GOTTA BE-” Dustin slaps his hands over his mouth as he acts out his fear and anguish.

While the rest of the party is focused away and trying to figure out the situation, Eddie looks over to you sitting beside him.

After asking three separate times if you were sure about not wanting to join in on this campaign, he allowed you a seat beside him where you could watch his DMing behind his dungeon master's screen that he made just for this campaign. It was actually quite fun to watch the little things he was doing that the party couldn’t see. Being the second session you’ve sat in on, previously you watched from the other side of the table, but being here is an entirely different experience.

He leaned over to you and you leaned toward him as he often had fun little things to whisper to you.

“Now watch this.” He stood up suddenly, slamming his hands down on the table making everyone whip their heads back toward him. “While you four were too busy talking, you all failed to notice a presence approaching, slow and steady. A wooden staff pounds down on the ground and in a deep, gravelly voice a man who is still hidden from the light of the single torch illuminating the room says… ‘Oh, how have you aged son.’.... and unfortunately that is all for today!!”

A chorus of groans and a couple of curses strung his way filled the room as he just laughed, putting his hands on his hips and gazing out on them all.

“I’m sorry, but a little birdie,” A sideways glance was cast to you, “Has informed me that it’s gonna start pouring real soon and the majority of you guys have to bike home… So shoo shoo! Pack your things up and get goin’.” Eddie plopped back down on his throne and watched them all scramble around to get home. Since it was Gareth’s home, he just grabbed his things and said his goodbyes before walking inside from the garage.

“Since I’m giving you a ride home, will you help me clean up?” You met Eddie’s awaiting eyes and he gave you a little smug smile. “DMS duties.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Yeah, of course.”

Saying goodbye to the rest of the gang as they left, you watched them bike off down the street from the garage with a half-full plastic bag in hand. You halfway tuned out the rustling of things from farther into the garage, too busy sending them silent wishes that they beat the rain.

“God, you’re just like a worried mom.” Eddie's voice broke your concentration which only got an eye roll and a displeased look from you. “Kinda look like one too.”

You grabbed into your bag and threatened to throw a can at him to which he started laughing, holding his hands up to diffuse the situation as he took a few steps away even though he was already on the other side of the table.

“You are just full of it today, huh? I might as well just walk myself all the way home, probably would be safer.”

“Nooo, Y/LN, now just calm down, let's not be rash!” He pleaded in feigned dramatics that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“It’s too late Munson! I just can't stand you a moment longer!!” You raised a hand up to cover his face from sight as you turned your head away.

You started to walk out of the garage, making your way over to the trash can outside to drop your bag into, hearing Eddie come after you.

“Just hear me out, I beg!” He pleaded, swerving around in front of you, mostly to drop his trash in the bin as well, but also to put his hands together in a prayer, giving you puppy dog eyes and everything.

After giving him a little ‘hmph!’ you turned away though the image of his face was already ingrained in your mind. You were committed to this little bit and did actually start your way down the driveway and toward the sidewalk so you could trek home even as much as you didn’t really want to leave.

As you swung your hand back in your rhythm of walking, it was grabbed and you jolted to a stop and turned around just to get pulled into Eddie. He obviously didn’t think you’d be that off balance and he stumbled a little but kept steady, keeping a firm hold on your shoulder and hand. You looked up at him to find him already looking at you. Heat rose up your neck and you knew it had to be already flushing your cheeks just from that moment of eye contact with his pretty brown doe eyes. Pulling away from him before he could see your face as you fought a smile, you looked toward the ground and expected him to have let go of your hand but you were stopped once again by an unmoving force keeping a hold of your wrist.

He waited until you looked at him to take a tentative step forward. Not too close. But yet, not too far away. He leaned toward you just a little, pink dusting his cheeks as he looked at you.

“Stay… please?” Eddie whispered a soft plea in a tone you had never heard from him before. It nearly took your breath away in surprise, your cheeks feeling on fire but you just couldn’t look away from him. You also couldn’t muster up a word and just stood there with your mouth slightly agape. He grinned at you and was slow to let your hand go.

“I’ll take that as a yes, hope I’m not too bold with my assumption there.” He said, voice still soft but no longer a whisper. His eyes broke from yours only when he slightly recoiled from a raindrop landing on his face. You both took notice of the rain now. It was light, but quickly the rain was getting heavier. Eddie laughed with glee, looking up into the storm.

The sound of the garage door shutting made Eddie look back and even though he had things still in there, he shrugged and turned his attention back to you in the rain with a big smile.

“Wanna know something I’ve always wanted to do with someone?”

“What’s that Munson?”

He put his hand out to you, keeping his dramatic facade as he held one behind his back and he had to speak a bit louder so you could hear him over the now pouring rain. “Dance with me, Y/N!”

The use of your first name brought those suffocating butterflies back. You couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment as he waited with way too much happiness for you to ever tell him no. Would saying no be the smarter choice for your heart and mind? Absolutely. But with the only risk of falling in love with him, it couldn't make it all that bad of a decision.

“Fuck it.” You grabbed his hand and he laughed, pulling you into him with his drenched clothes making yours even worse. He grabbed your other hand and led you in a dance that had no rhythm, no pattern, nothing more than whatever soundtrack played in your own minds. The rain lightened as you two danced around the driveway but unlike the rain, you had no intention of stopping yet.

Letting go of one of your hands, he took a step away and pulled you in against his chest, he held you much longer than you would in a dance set to any pace. He put his hand on the other side of your waist, looking at you from the side until you looked back, waiting for him to twirl you out.

Without warning, he tickled your side, and just as you were distracted with giggling he chose to twirl you, and even give you a little spin once you were all the way out, before he met back up with you face to face and took your hand again.

Intertwining your fingers with his, you took the ‘lead’ and did a little pushing your hands back and forth kinda dance with your feet following the rhythm. He got into it quickly and watched you to make sure he wouldn’t miss a move as you went to the song in your mind. As you started to sway back and forth, he matched it, and eventually, it just devolved into you both replicating several popular dance moves, one after another.

The rain had lifted to sprinkles now and in your drenched state, you managed to trip over your own feet. Eddie moved to catch you just as you caught yourself but looked up at him in a bit of surprise at how quickly he reacted. He laughed a little bit and stepped back to give you space but equally held his hand out to you.

“Wanna go get food?” You took a second to take him in, he had on his leather jacket over the hellfire t-shirt both of which were dripping wet. His hair was a mess from the water and especially from the dancing around, some stray pieces were plastered to his cheeks and his bangs to his forehead. He was glowing though, he looked alive and full of bliss at the moment.

A smile crept its way onto your lips as you grabbed his hand once again, leaning back as you relied on his strength and sucked your teeth.

“I hope you know I didn’t bring my wallet.”

“That's perfectly fine, I planned on paying anyway.” He said as he started to lead you to his van but you were quick to stop him this time.

“Oh wait, Eddie,” He was quick to look at you. You didn't often use his name when talking to or even referring to him so it must have caught him off guard. “We both are uh… drenched. I don’t wanna get your seats wet.”

“Oh, you genius little bird, you. I actually have towels in the back! I almost forgot.” Letting go of your hand, he jogged to the back of the van and you followed. “I keep ‘em for 'just in case' moments and finally, they have made themselves useful.”

Eddie opened the back door and crawled in a bit before coming back out and handing you a black towel as he had one to match, quick to use it to wipe the drops of water on his face and work on getting his hair a little dry.

“Just throw that sucker on your seat and it’ll be fine. If it seeps through that, she’ll dry just fine I’m sure.” He said, voice a little muffled as he was busy scrunching his hair.

You watched him as he did so, in his own little bubble as he cared for his hair. It was the first time seeing him care about his appearance, you were right to assume he did as his type of hair had to be cared for to look as nice as he did. The fact that it was an obvious priority for him at the moment was just such a sight to see for some reason.

Being halfway bent over, he took notice of the lack of moment from you and leaned over more to look at you from behind just for you to notice him and meet his eyes. The urge to laugh hit you both at the same time, you slapped your hand over your mouth and he held his lips together tightly to hold it in though his smile was making it hard.

“Y/LN…” Eddie drew out your name with a smile, standing up straight slowly and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to not burst out laughing from the embarrassment of knowing he knew you were watching.

“Mhm?” You were hardly able to get out, barely bringing your hand away from your mouth with a dangerously big smile.

“If you’re gonna watch, at least start drying yourself off or something. Weren’t you the one super worried about my seats?” He leaned toward you to further his teasing and you rolled your eyes, looking away only to glance back at him as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion of you.

“Alright! Alright, my bad!” You put your arms up in defeat as you walked around the other side of the van and heard him laugh from the back.

You opened up the passenger door but stood next to it, messily drying your hair to get it at least not dripping. You managed to waste enough time that your clothes, while still soaked, weren’t dripping anymore so you toweled your clothes off before Eddie appeared on the other side, opening his door.

“So…” You started to get his attention which wasn’t too hard. He draped his towel over his head and leaned on his seat with his head resting in his hands as he waited for you to talk. “Where are you thinking of eating, Munson? I don’t actually know what you like.”

“Easy, you know that little diner a few blocks from here?”

“Benny’s? The one that's known for its shakes more than its burgers?”

“Bingo,” He giggled a little as he sat up and took his towel off to put it over the plush seat. “Favorite place in Hawkins right there, I always thought I didn't like Suzie Q’s but Benny’s gave me a solid change of heart.”

He kept rambling about each item on the menu as you copied him with your towel and got in, to which he did the same. The air was on full blast of cold air as it was hot earlier today but just left you two freezing now. He turned it off even though he hardly looked like he was paying attention to anything else. As he started driving, the ramble about food turned into a story about Benny’s which had you both in hysterics.

The usual 8-minute drive felt like a few moments. Despite his demeanor and his horrible reputation, despite doing nothing to earn it, Eddie was so easy to talk to. He matched energies so well and kept a good-paced conversation, talking as much as you’ll let him but at the same time listening to whatever you have to say for as long as you want to say it.

Pulling into Benny’s, there were a couple of other cars there but it looked like a rather slow evening. You moved to get out, but he was quick to stop you.

“Hey hey, wait a second.”

“O… Okay?” In pure confusion, you just watched him as he hopped out of the car, following him with your eyes as he passed the front of the van just to get to your door and open it with a slow dramatic wave of his hand to usher you out. “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”

“It’s just part of my charm.” He said with pride, taking your hand as you got out and shutting the door behind you just to do the same gesture, not as extra this time, before you could walk into the diner.

Together, you sat in a booth in the corner of the diner, there was one couple from school and a couple of older folks catching up with one another. You decide what you want and make sure to add a shake to your order and Eddie goes to put it in for you. As you sit there looking at him, you just can't help but notice how much of a mess his hair is from the rain. He did well in drying it off but it was just incredibly poofy as it was drying and it was getting in the way as he kept pushing it away while waiting to get change back.

You look down at your wrist to check and to your luck, you still had a big green scrunchie from one of the cheerleaders you were friends with. She didn’t talk to you anymore so it wasn’t like she was ever going to ask for it back.

Eddie headed back over, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as he gave a sideways glance to the couple that gave him nasty looks then whispered and laughed to themselves.

“Munson.” You grabbed his attention and before he got to the booth, you scooted out of your side and pointed at your spot. “Sit.”

“For… what? If you wanted the corner seat, you could've just told me.” He muttered with a laugh as he sat.

“No no, well, if you’re okay with it,” You pulled the scrunchie away from your wrist to show him. “I wanted to put your hair up for you.”

“Oh geez, alright.” He was quick to comply and turned around so he was facing the window and had his back to you.

You approached him but put your hands on his shoulders to let him know how close you were. Taking one hand away, you pushed all of the hair off of one of his shoulders then did the same to the other side with your other hand. You made sure to be super gentle when messing with his hair in case he was tender-headed and gathered the length of it in one hand. His hair was incredibly soft and with how poofy it was right now, it was plush in an odd way.

Loosely tieing the majority back, you leaned over to separate some that evened out with his bangs, but mostly just because you thought it would look cute.

“I’ll fix those in just a second.” This elicited a sweet chuckle from him.

Taking your time to make sure everything looked nice and even, you tied his hair up and tightened it as gently as you could.

“Alright, face me now please.”And god, you could look at him forever if he would let you. With the mix of the evening sunlight and the softness in his face as he looked at you, he looked ethereal. You couldn't help a smile as you slowly shook your head and he matched your smile but gave you a confused little head tilt to which you shook your head to dismiss his curiosity

You grabbed his cheeks to keep his face still and fully facing you just as an older lady came over and sat down the ordered food on the table for you both.

“Here you kids are, enjoy.” She said with a little wink.

“Ooh, I already am.” You whipped your head back to him before you could thank her which just caused the two of you to get the giggles. You patted his cheek a few times to try and get him to sit up straight.

“Okay, okay, shut up, lemme do this so we can eat.” He obeyed and sat still as you fixed his hair to make him look pretty as he just watched you with a soft, dopey smile. Just as you were checking everything to make sure it was even and looked good, Eddie reached up and straightened out a bit of your air and tuck some behind your ear before speaking in that soft tone again.

“I’m sure I look fine, Y/LN, sit down. You’re worrying your pretty little head over my hair a bit too much.” Brushing his fingers over your cheek teasingly right before pushing you away in a gentle manner and sitting right in the booth.

You scoffed at him with a little laugh to follow and sat across from him, taking one of your shared order of Suzie Q's and resting your head on your hand.

He apparently got a shake as well and sat back, taking a moment to enjoy it, closing his eyes as he savored the flavor.

"It's been too long…"

"Not to break your focus here but I gotta question actually." His attention popped back to you at that, clearly very curious.

"Continue."

"Alright, so since I would say we are friends now…" You paused, watching him to make sure you weren't in the wrong to assume so. He gave you a content nod. "And I love your music so, how much would it be to ask if I can sit in on practices? You all do practice right?"

Eddie laughed and rested his arms on the table, leaning toward you with a smug smile. "Can you just not get enough of me, birdie?"

"Answer the question, you dick!" You hissed at him, trying not to let yourself get too flustered.

"If you really want to, you can sit in. You've gotta be ready to give us constructive criticism though, no sitting in for free." Giving you a critical look, he relaxed and brought one leg up into the seat to have up by his chest. "Talk about this more in a minute, eat while it’s still nice and fresh. The fries are better that way."

"Better not just be a way to get me to shut up, Munson."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

33 notes · View notes

venerable-sun · 5 months

Text

Something Wicked

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." ~Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes

Nightmare Alley, Clem x Reader

18+

TW: smut, some violence, angst, manipulation and hinted drugging

~2300 words

Request: Hey 👋 so I’ve been thinking for his character Clem Hoatley in Nightmare Alley that the female reader is a sweet innocent young woman that is a beautiful and elegant dancer who ran away from home from her abusive father and when she gets to the carnival she feels free and starts dancing captivating the people and Clem himself. He than offers her to work and join the carnival with him and as time goes they start to develop feelings starting a relationship which turns into smut.

AN: This went a little darker than I initially intended it to, but I think it fits in much better with the overall message and feel of Nightmare Alley this way. And if you haven't read Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury, I highly recommend it. If you have read it, you know exactly why I included this quote.

“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” - Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes

When you were a little girl, you inherited a wind-up music box from your grandmother. When you opened it and turned the key, a tiny ballerina- forever frozen in a graceful pirouette- danced in place to a tinny melody.

You played the music box so often that over time the ballerina began to turn slower, the notes she danced to coming out increasingly out of tune until eventually, it stopped working altogether.

Even still, you did not throw it away.

It sits on the nightstand of your childhood bedroom, the frozen ballerina a witness as you teach yourself how to stretch and move with the grace of a true dancer- and watches as you sneak out in the evenings after your household chores are done to peer through the grimy back window of the ballet studio in town. You stand on your tiptoes, calves aching just so you can get a glimpse of all the little girls whose parents could afford their flats and leotards and frilly tu-tus.

You fashion yourself a pair of ballet flats out of various scraps of fabric and canvas discarded by your mother and older sisters, staying up hours into the night trying to recreate the moves you saw.

The music box may have stopped working as you got older and grew into a young woman, but your dreams of being a ballerina never fade. You know that one day, you will be on a stage all your own with a crowd of people cheering your name. The middle child of a farm family of seven, your time in the spotlight will come.

Unfortunately, your parents have other plans.

“Absolutely not!” You cry, nearly dropping the dish you had been in the process of drying.

“It ain’t up for debate,” your mother says, busy fussing with your youngest sibling on her hip. “You’re marryin’ that Higgins boy and that’s final.”

Your father grunts in agreement without looking up from the morning paper in his hands. As you sit at your spot at the table and watch your mother simultaneously soothe your crying sibling, wash the dishes, and watch over a bubbling pot of soup while your father doesn't lift a finger to help- you are terrified that you would end up with the exact same fate.

So that night while everyone else is asleep and the house is quiet as a graveyard at midnight, you ducked through your bedroom window for the last time and didn’t look back.

But even though you are free from your family, you aren't free from the realities of the world and the place young, innocent women have in it.

You learn quickly that an indulging smile can get you far, a few well-placed touches even further, and the promise of even more the most. It turns out that people will pay money for that fantasy, a lot of it. At least you can say you end up as a dancer after all, just maybe not quite the kind you expected. Every night you slather on deep red lipstick and dark eyeshadow, binding your breasts until they just about burst out of your low-cut dress. You strap on your high heels and saunter out onto the stage with all the other girls as unlucky as you for men to gawk at.

This is where you meet him.

It is a night like any other, the rain pouring outside driving more business through the club’s doors as the days begin to get darker earlier and the air turning crip and unforgiving. You’ve been especially removed, stuck in your own head and simply going through the moves you know will ensure a substantial wad of cash being placed in your hand at the end of the night- and then your eyes meet through the haze of smoke that hangs permanently in the air.

He happens to glance over at you mid-sentence, seemingly in the midst of some sort of business meeting (though what kind of business would take place in such an establishment, you can’t say). You quickly look away, suddenly self-conscious of your short skirt and sultry makeup.

You escape to the back alley shortly after, trying in vain to light a cigarette against the cold wind. “Allow me,” a voice to your right says, and the man’s dark eyes shine briefly in the flame as he lights your cigarette and then his own.

You murmur your thanks and take a long drag, long-used to the bitter taste of tobacco. Momma would throw a fit if she saw me smoking, you smirk to yourself, indulging in a rare thought of your family.

You and the man smoke in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “I must say miss, you don’t strike me as the kind of lady that belongs in a place like this.”

“And where do I belong?” You ask, trying to examine him out of the corner of your eye as conspicuously as possible. He’s certainly attractive, but it isn’t just his looks that you find yourself drawn to. There was cunning behind his eyes, a confidence that everything will always just happen to go his way regardless of any difficulty.

“You belong on a stage where an audience will applaud you for your art, not your body.” He stamps out his cigarette with his shoe and turns to you expectantly. “I can make that happen.”

You eye him suspiciously. Attractive or not, you’re not the same naive girl that ran away from an arranged marriage in the dead of night. You know now that men in this world are selfish and cruel, quick to sweet-talk and even quicker to turn back on their promises.

“You’re cautious, that’s commendable. And how rude of me, I haven’t even introduced myself.” He amends, flashing you a charming smile that loosens your defenses despite yourself. “My name is Clem, and I own the carnival just outside of town. I would love to have someone with talent such as yours on board.”

You flush under the praise, flashes of your childhood dreams of dancing in front of an adoring crowd playing through your mind. Surely a job with the carnival would be better than this- dancing for a measly handful of bills at the price of your dignity and pride, just a piece of meat to be ogled at and desired and nothing more.

“I suppose I could stop by and see what all the fuss is about,” you find yourself agreeing, and with the smile Clem gives you then- you know what your answer will be.

You quickly find that the people you meet in the carnival are the family you have been missing all your life.

Sweet, quiet Molly becomes the supportive sister, Madame Zeena the attentive mother you’ve yearned for. The steady stream of carnival workers provide the brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles you’ve always wanted but never had.

And then there’s Clem- and that relationship isn’t quite as easy to put a label on.

After you officially join, he sets you up in a trailer so cramped you can barely turn around, but having shared a dingy apartment with three other girls previously and a cramped house with your family before that- it is the first space you have ever truly been able to call your own. He gives you your own side-act, letting you dance to your heart’s content on your own small stage as long as whatever you do draws a crowd. You learn to juggle fire, to weave ribbons through the air and crack jokes between sets that keeps audiences coming back for more.

It’s funny to you, how desperate you become to gain Clem’s approval and stay in his good graces. He often visits you periodically throughout the night in between the main acts, each interaction pulling you deeper and deeper into your feelings until you’re completely lost.

Sometimes you think that he may even love you the way you love him, when you catch his eye over the crowd and he gives you a rare genuine smile- not the showman smile, not the carnival smile- the smile that softens his gaze and smooths out the hard lines of his face. Or when you're tangled in the sheets of his bed, your head resting against his bare chest and he strokes through your hair with such tenderness that makes you think even though this life is the furthest from what you had once dreamed for yourself, maybe it's the one you were meant for all along.

Other times though, after he pulls you suddenly into his lavish tent, drags your skirt down and plunges into you without any regard for your own pleasure, quickly fucking you against any surface available; Those times- when he is all sharp edges and teeth, when he fills you with his release and then walks away without a word- make you question whether he actually looks upon you with real warmth or is just throwing your the smallest crumbs of affection to get you to stay.

But you’re happy with this life, you tell yourself. You are.

You’re resting behind the rampart of your small side stage, massaging the calluses on your feet when an attractive young man walks up to you.

Bright eyes peer at you from beneath the rim of his fedora as he tips it at you in greeting. “Excuse me miss, but I saw your act earlier and just had to speak with you.”

You accept his hand when he holds it out to you, fighting back a blush when he presses a kiss to your knuckles. He is quite the looker, clean-shaven and with pressed clothes that whisper he comes from money.

And yet, you can’t quite hide the way your polite smile dips slightly when he insists that you accompany him to dinner.

“I’m very flattered,” you try to graciously decline. “But I’m afraid I already have plans to dine with my friends tonight.”

The grip he has on your fingers tightens when you try to pull away, and the way his eyes seem to light up in challenge has you glancing around nervously for any of your fellow carnival-mates. “I think your friends will understand, don’t you?” His eyes gleam menacingly. “After all, how often does someone like you have the chance to go out with someone like me?”

In one moment the man is towering over you, casting you in his shadow, and in the next he is shoved backwards into the dirt, blinking up in indignation.

“I believe the lady said no.” Clem says calmly, one hand reaching back as if to shield you and the other resting threateningly on the handgun tucked into the waistband of his slacks.

The man picks himself up with a scowl, brushing dust off his clothes and stalking away. “The bitch is an ugly little thing anyways,” he tosses over his shoulder, but you pay no mind to it now that Clem’s attention is solely fixed on you.

He cups your face with his hands, turning your head side to side to examine you carefully. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shake your head, and he sighs in relief. The rough pads of his thumbs brush over the swell of your cheeks affectionately, causing your heart to flutter in your chest. This is a side of Clem you so rarely get to see, and you almost feel like you need to hold your breath just to make the moment last longer.

Without warning, he surges forward and catches your lips in a sloppy kiss, your muffled gasp of surprise cut short by the ferocity of his teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

“I saw the way he looked at you,” Clem growls against you, eyes dark with lust and jealousy. “The way they all look at you, but they don’t know.”

“Know what?” You whisper, shuddering at the brush of his fingertips down your back. His other hand tangles itself in your hair, yanking you painfully forward off your feet as he rises to full height.

He pulls you in for another searing kiss that leaves you breathless. “That you are mine,” he groans against your lips. The bristle of his mustache scratches roughly at your skin, but you can’t find it in you to care, not when he starts steering you towards his tent, and especially not when he drops you on the soft mattress of his bed, not allowing you even a moment to adjust before he is tearing at your dress in desperation.

You’re just as quick to rid him of his clothes, unbuckling his belt and pulling the fabric down in one swoop. His hard length gleams with precum, and you waste no time, leaning forward to begin suckling at the tip.

The harsh grip twisting your hair is back, forcing you further down on his length until you’re gagging on it, but even then Clem doesn’t stop. He is merciless as he thrusts into your throat, smirking down at the tears that have begun to stream down your cheeks.

“I’m the only one that gets to ruin you like this,” he rasps, grabbing another fistfull of hair and dragging you off of him. He pushes you back against the mattress and hikes your skirts up to expose your glistening core. He slides an experimental finger into you, watching with piercing eyes as you keen at the intrusion. His eyes darken when you try to grind your hips into the heel of his palm, desperate for friction.

The slap of his palm against your cheek stuns you, a shaky hand reaching up to feel the burning mark it left behind.

Clem grabs your hand and pins it beside your head, something feral and twisted in his gaze. “I own you,” he hisses, hard length prodding at your weeping entrance. You let out a cry as he slides into you with one thrust, his hips sitting flush against your own.

The stretch burns as he gives you no time to adjust to his size, the grip he has on you preventing you from being able to do anything but lay there and take whatever he deems fit enough to give you.

Your eyes roll back into your head as the rough pad of his fingers begin to twist your clit, your body soon spasming as your orgasm crashes through you like a wave. Clem groans above you, his length twitching as he empties into you.

You both pant there a moment in the warm light of the setting sun, gazing into each other's eyes as you catch your breath. Clem slowly pulls out of you and rolls over, dragging you against his chest with him. You chew on your bottom lip, wracking your mind for anything to say.

“Stay here, with me.” Clem says quietly, causing you to prop yourself up on one elbow and stare down at him. “What do you mean? I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

He huffs a short laugh, one side of his mouth pulling up in a sardonic smile. “Aye, for right now. But you might someday. The thought keeps me up at night.” Your face falls in sympathy, and you lean forward to press a kiss to the crease that has formed on his brow. “I’ll make you a star, a main act, give you the world if you ask for it, as long as you stay right here.” He continues, dark eyes boring into your own with such urgency you’ve never seen from him before. Something wicked seems to flash in his gaze, gone so quick that you must have imagined it.

“There isn’t anywhere else I want to be but right here, Clem.” You assure, watching as he reaches beneath his bed to pull out a bottle of wine. He pours you and himself a glass, the red liquid sloshing around thickly.

“Promise me,” he says, raising his glass to clink against your own. “Promise me you’ll always stay.”

“I promise,” you reply, then take a sip. The wine slides languidly down your throat as you take one sip, then another. The faint twinge of unease you felt is replaced with warmth, your head pleasantly fuzzy as you accept another glass. Before long, you are fighting back yawns, settling down in the juncture of Clem’s shoulder once more.

You drift off to sleep with the feeling of his fingers brushing lightly up and down your arm, unaware of the knowing smile that now twists his face. You had promised Clem you would stay with the carnival forever, and now you always will.

#texts #reader insert #nightmare alley #Clem hoatley x reader #clem x reader #nightmare alley x reader

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