#*logan roy voice* FUCK OFF
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Roman stans are legit living on a different planet than me
#just saw a post about shiv and Kendall quote gaslighting him and him being the only smart sibling#*logan roy voice* oh fuck off
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Yoo hi thereee!!! <33 I know this might come off and im really sorry cause I know this isnt the best time to ask for help but is it okay if you could take a look on the post I pinned for my cat? I pinned it on my blog, if you have an extra time please do check it out. Im terribly sorry, i just dont know what else to do :(( hoping you'd consider to help just by even spreading the word. Please send me a msg to reply or answer the ask privately and I hope you're having an amazing day! 🐈
No i hope koppi dies
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Please let Bucky Barnes rest.
#i am going to kidnap him and trap him in a blanket burrito and slather him with cucumber face mask#this man WILL get a deep tissue massage#he WILL watch Grace and Frankie and eat chocolate covered strawberries#he WILL fall asleep with Steve’s chest as a full body pillow#he will NEVER fight anyone ever again#I have spoken this reality into being#*logan roy voice* FUCK OFF
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rome ken and shiv after fighting bc they just called the election for a fascist: but in the end … we loved our dad didn’t we
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hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part six.
pairing ; roman roy x f!reader
synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.
words ; 13.8k
themes ; angst, fluff, drama, slowburn, childhood friends to lovers
warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, major character death, heavy angsty shit, sexual jokes and general foul language, business talk, roman is so in love, connor gets a bit of spotlight for this chapter </3
a/n ; sorry i'm taking so so so long w this series! uni keeps getting in the way of my writing HAHA but i hope you guys enjoy :)
series masterlist. main masterlist.
Bidding wars had never really been fun for you. It was always emails upon emails, calls after calls, Logan yelling, Gerri scrambling, negotiations, bargains, deals—it was all too much.
But this… even you had to admit, this was fun.
Maybe because it was the first time you were working against Logan and not for him. And being around the Roy siblings reminded you of your childhood—a time where the four of you got along for the most part, even with the bloody noses and scraped knees and the yankings of hair.
Buying Pierce had been something you were starkly against while you were working in Waystar, but with this new thing that the Roy siblings were crafting, you had complete faith that Shiv, Kendall—hell, even Roman, would keep the news station’s values in check.
And, though you weren’t entirely proud of it, there was a thrill, a rush of adrenaline, when the four of you raised your bidding price to a healthy ten billion as a closing offer, knowing there was no way Logan could ever consider outbidding that.
Nan Pierce accepted with little pushback, much to Logan’s fury.
Your godfather yelled at the four of you through the phone later that day, but there was no fear sitting within your stomach, like there usually was when he got angry. No, you were laughing. Kendall and Shiv and Roman—they were stifling their own smiles down at the screen, too.
That night, you stood on your balcony, a lit cigarette loosely balanced between your fingers. You weren’t at all a smoker—in fact, you hadn’t had one ever since you joined Waystar. It was an unprofessional look, in a sense. Not something you wanted to be associated with.
The goddaughter that smelled of cheap cigarettes. Wasn’t that an unattractive thought?
But you didn’t have to worry about that anymore, did you? Honestly, you weren’t quite sure yourself. You’d just assumed you were no longer part of the company, but knowing Logan…
He always had something up his sleeve. Maybe he’d wait until the siblings lowered their guards to snipe you in the back of the head. Or lure you back with meaty bait.
You took a short drag, faint grey wisps falling past your lips as you breathed out.
“You smoking now? Doing a little smokey smokes?” came Roman’s voice from behind you, making you turn your head with a slight grin. “Since when?”
“First one since I was a little baby teenager, I think,” you replied. Roman leaned onto the balcony railing beside you, shoulder pressing flush against yours. “They taste disgusting. Here—”
You took a drag—a longer one, this time—leaned forward until your lips were just a whisker away from his, and blew the smoke into him. He inhaled deep before jerking forward to kiss you, nose nudging yours in his fervor.
“Yeah. Fucking disgusting,” he mumbled against your lips, as if wanting to propel you into something more than just kisses.
Your eyes lit up with amusement, but you pulled away, leaving a lingering kiss on the side of Roman’s nose. The cigarette wasn’t at all used up, but you put it out on a small ashtray you had taken with you.
“I just wanted to try,” you said. “Was wondering if I’d like it after all this time, now that I have the freedom to.”
There was a curious glint to Roman’s molten eyes. “And do you?”
“Nah. Like I said—they taste disgusting.”
“Some people like disgusting,” he off-handedly said, and you shot him a pointed look.
A breezy laugh, lost to the wind. “Yeah. I might know someone.”
“You’re a goody two-shoes, you know that?” he commented snidely, but his eyes were far too soft for his words to strike harsh. “But it’s good. We need someone like that. The company, I mean.”
“I know,” you whispered back. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“Yeah,” Roman said, his hand lacing with yours. He began tugging you back inside. “Me too.”
Connor wanted the four of you to come to his wedding rehearsal at a fancy restaurant downtown—he texted you multiple different addresses, each text telling you to disregard the last one. Then, he called you (called Shiv first, but she was on the phone, passive-aggressively bickering with Tom), and told you exactly where he was. Apparently Willa wasn’t very happy with the venues they’d booked. He sounded sad—it was always easy to tell when he was sad.
And so the four of you set off for him, though not without Roman’s constant complaints. Spending some quality time with their eldest brother was the last thing the Roy siblings wanted to do—they had far more pressing matters at hand.
Sandi and Stewy, for one. They wanted to veto the acquisition for more dollars squeezed from Matsson’s hand. Roman was starkly against the idea, not wanting to blow more bullets into his father. Shiv and Kendall were far more willing to listen, though Kendall eventually backed down. It was appealing, you had to admit, especially because you hated Matsson’s guts, but you wanted to put business aside for the moment. Spend some time with Connor—after all, he was going to get married soon. If that ever ended up happening, that is.
Once inside the restaurant’s halls, you caught sight of Willa hurrying down the wide staircase by the entrance, looking a bit frazzled.
“Oh, hi!” she said, slightly breathless. “So you’re here now, huh?”
“Hi, Willa,” you greeted, embracing her with a loose hug before stepping back. “Are you… going somewhere?”
“You standing up my big bro?” Roman quipped from right behind you. He was joking, but Willa only frowned. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
There was a nervous laugh from both parties.
“Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah, I’m just—I’m having a little drink. Away.”
Both you and Roman spared each other confused glances.
“Is the dinner rehearsal thing over? He still up there?” Roman asked.
The blonde fiddled with her phone, nearly dropping it. “Oh, uh, the rehearsal isn’t—it’s not done, no.”
“You’re leaving your own wedding rehearsal?” you gently questioned.
She smiled, though it came off only sad and tired. “I think they can manage. I’m not vital from here.”
Roman squinted at her. “Yeah, well… I mean, normally the bride is generally considered—correct me if I’m wrong—I think the bride is pretty vital in a wedding. Don’t you think?”
“Well! Yeah, but… I should go, though. Have a think about it all. I’m in a bit of a fuzz.” She laughed again, though it looked like she wanted to cry.
Nodding, you said, “Take care of yourself, Willa. Let us know if you need anything.”
She pursed her lips, eyes soft with appreciation. The two of you had never been quite close, but there was a mutual understanding between you. To be the pedestals of Roy men, the unnamed crutch, the woman on the arm.
With that, she hurried away.
“Fairy tale wedding, huh?” Shiv said, eyebrows raised. “Should we even go up? Seems like the rehearsal is over.”
“She said it wasn’t,” you replied, shrugging. “We should go see Con.”
Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, Shiv, we really should. Why? You got something better to do than see your own brother before his wedding?”
“No, it’s just—we’ve got quite a lot to discuss, that’s all.”
It was Kendall’s turn to query, “What? Sandi and Stewy? They’re baiting us. Just let it go, Shiv.”
“I think they could really help us! We overpromised on Pierce!” she hotly defended.
“It’s a mind game,” Roman agreed with Kendall. “Just—fuck ‘em, okay?”
The redhead looked at you, but you shook your head. “Let’s just go see Connor, okay? We can hash it out after making sure he hasn’t got a gun barrel in his mouth.”
“Sure. Fine,” Shiv said, though it didn’t seem all that fine to her, judging from her pinched expression.
The four of you traipsed up the stairs, spotting Connor instantly—alone, surrounded by near-untouched platters of expensive food.
“Found him,” Roman sarcastically commented, pointing a finger at his oldest brother, who cracked a fond smile.
“Finally,” Connor said. “Took you guys long enough.”
Roman gave him an embrace from the side, saying, “Hey, bro. Hugsy.”
To the other side, Kendall patted his shoulder, another hand thumping on his chest. Shiv only barely leaned down to hug him, telling him, “Dad screwed us.”
“Yeah,” the eldest said. “I heard. But look at you guys—the Rebel Alliance.”
You were last to give Connor a hug, squeezing him tight, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “How’s the rehearsal been?”
A non-committal noise slipped past his lips. “Been good. It’s been okay.”
Roman made a strange, wincing sound, sucking air through his teeth. “Sure. Yeah, I believe you.”
Keen to change the subject, Connor surveyed his siblings—and you—with narrowed eyes. “So this is how it is, huh? Battle royale. Me and Dad on one side, you guys on the other?”
Strange, you hadn’t quite recalled Connor being so in with his father’s business plans. And… the fact that Logan hadn’t shown up to the wedding rehearsal at all.
“You okay, man?” Roman queried, genuine concern slipping over his features. He was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. “We bumped into Willa on the way in. She seemed all…” He drew up his hands to his face and shook his fingers about.
Pointedly, Connor dropped his gaze down to the table. Untouched food left and right. “Yeah. It’s alright. I think it’s fine.”
“You sure, Con?” you asked, slipping into the seat beside him, Roman on your other side.
“Yeah, well, I guess she just—she stood up to do her speech, and then she froze. Said that she couldn’t do it.” There was a laugh, dry and unpleasant and somber. “Then she went to the bathroom for forty minutes with her so-called friends.”
Roman wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes at nothing in particular. “Oh, no, no, that’s—that’s totally fine. Don’t you worry about that. Just toss her another ten grand—or a snowmobile. Teeth-whitening vouchers.”
Unhappy with the meaning behind his brother’s words, Connor pushed himself away from the table, heading off to speak to Willa’s mom.
Tossing a glare in Roman’s direction, you sighed out, “Was that really necessary?”
“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
Slumping into the chair across from you, Kendall huffed out, “This is so fucking weird.”
“Do we regroup at my place?” Shiv asked, still standing, impatient to leave even though they’d just gotten there.
Tilting his head, Roman incredulously said, “Shiv. Come on. He’s… he’s looking a little rough. Don’t you think?”
“Well, sure. I’m sorry that Dad fucked us and I’m sorry that we’re late. But we do need to decide fast.”
“The Sandi and Stewy deal?” you queried.
Shiv let out a frustrated exhale. “Yeah.”
“Well, I think we’re already decided, no?” Kendall said, lifting a shoulder in half a shrug. Roman nodded in agreement.
“Are we, though? They made some pretty compelling arguments.” Shiv tapped her foot against the hardwood floors impatiently.
Glancing over at Connor, who was trying his best to console Willa’s mother, you bobbed your head, hesitant. “It could potentially ruin Matsson. The deal. I’d like to see it.”
Groaning a little too loudly, Roman said, “Sandy’s just a greedy little bitch. She’s got her hand up the ass of the carcass of her dad, and Stewy’s just coming along for the ride. Can we not do this right now? It’s a fucking—it’s a packet of horseshit.”
Trying her best to stay calm, Shiv perched herself on the edge of the seat next to Kendall. “Okay. And what if I want to talk it through? This would help us.”
Kendall arched a brow. “I think we should just rise above it.”
“Yeah, okay, but maybe Dad is not on it like he used to be—and maybe he’s underplayed his hand, and the board are all just hand-fucking-picked Japanese plastic cats just waving it through,” Shiv argued.
“It doesn’t hurt to try,” you added, trying your best to sway Roman by nudging him gently. He merely rolled his eyes and prodded you back, but said nothing more.
It was then that Connor came hurrying back, carding a hand through his hair. He tiredly sank back down into his seat. “No luck. Still incommunicado. I just really hope she’s okay.”
“I’m sure she is,” you told him, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. “She just needs space, is all.”
“Yeah.” As if he’d flipped a switch, Connor straightened and plastered on a smile. “So, what do you guys say? A little bit of karaoke?”
All three siblings grimaced.
“Or would it be possible,” Roman began, scratching at his jaw, “to do anything other than that, in the entire universe?”
“I think karaoke sounds nice,” you offered. Honestly, you weren’t too keen on doing karaoke when your mind was abuzz with a million other things at the moment, but it was Connor, and he seemed so down about Willa at his own wedding rehearsal, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. It was like kicking at an already-wounded puppy.
Connor grinned. “Nice! One in the bag. Come on, you guys. Don’t leave us hanging.”
Shiv looked near ready to bash her head against the table. Kendall was glancing down at his phone—texting someone.
Roman rolled his eyes and groaned again, even louder than before. “Ugh. Fine! We can drink, though, right? I’m not listening to you sing sober.”
Clearing her throat, Shiv said, “Well, I just, we kind of have—other engagements right now—”
“Oh, sure. Everybody’s busy,” Connor crooned. Though, if you looked close enough, you’d see the unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Why didn’t his baby sister want to spend time with him?
“Come on,” Kendall said with an urgent hand slanting over Shiv’s shoulder, phone gone for now. “Let’s give him a drink.”
Clapping his hands, Connor stood up again. “Great! But—not any of your stupid places. Somewhere fun and real and—away from all the fancy dance. A real bar with, uh, with chicks, and guys who work with their hands in grease—sweat dripping down their backs and blood all over their hair.”
“I don’t like these guys. They sound like a medical experiment gone wrong,” Roman piped up, slinging an arm over your shoulder.
“Sounds hot,” you said with a genuine laugh. “Let’s go.”
The bar itself was atmospherically ambient, the lights warm and unharsh, the chatter light and friendly, the television playing a football match at a soft volume. You smiled—it’d been a while since you stepped foot into an actual bar full of people who weren’t aristocratic assholes.
Normal people doing normal things. What was that like?
Roman, on the other hand, looked particularly uncomfortable, shoulders stiff and expression taut. He was only here for his big brother, but his saint-like kindness only wore so thin.
Kendall ordered drinks for the lot of you—whiskey on the rocks for himself, a sealed soda for Shiv since she didn’t trust anything from the bar’s “tainted” nozzles, a fancy beer for Connor, a vodka tonic for Roman, and a strawberry margarita for you. He snorted when you asked for it, rolling his eyes to the side.
“You and your strawberries,” Kendall said, before heading off to call the bartender. You weren’t quite sure if his expression was fond or derisive. Perhaps both.
You sat beside Connor, peering over his shoulder, where he was staring at the screen with heavily knitted brows.
“Is that—is that Willa?” you asked, eyes widening upon seeing him zoomed onto a map with a tiny blue dot. “Are you tracking her?”
“Jesus, Con,” said Roman, laughing his high-pitched laugh. “That’s low, even for you.”
“What? I have her location shared,” the older brother said, earning quizzical looks from the three of you. “It’s a factory setting.”
Shiv made a noise of amusement. “It’s not.”
“Well…” Connor’s eyes darted back down to his screen, zooming in impossibly closer. “I’m reassured she’s definitely not on her way to Cuba.”
From his other side, Kendall appeared, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Well, her phone isn’t.”
Connor decided to ignore the comment. “She stopped moving, so… I guess she found a spot she likes.”
“Sure!” crooned Roman. “On another man’s dick.”
The rest of you sighed, and you shook your head.
“On a much bigger, nicer, harder, younger dick, is all I’m saying,” Roman reassured his eldest brother, patting his shoulders.
“Can we not?” Connor softly said, though he was smiling down at Rome. Even though his words hurt, just the fact that he was there for him cheered him up just a little bit. “Okay? I’m feeling—I’m having certain anxieties, alright? I want to have a good time!”
Once Roman muttered a quick apology, you bumped him off to the side so you can press up next to Connor again, staring down at the blue dot, still unmoving. “I’m sure she just needs a breather. It’s a big deal, y’know. Marriage.”
“I know,” said Con, sucking in a deep breath. There was a profound sort of loneliness to his eyes. “I just thought—I thought it was enough. All of it. It was enough for her.”
“It will be,” you said, nudging him. “Eventually. Just give her time.”
The drinks came then, and you hummed contentedly after taking your first sip. “Fuck. Why don’t they ever have shit like this at the fancy events we go to?”
“Because it’s diabetes in a cup,” Roman replied, but he plucked the glass from your fingers to snag a sip for himself. “It’s literal sugar water. Barely any alcohol in here.”
“Well, I’m not looking to get wasted,” you said, before snatching it back, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “You drank so much!”
“Nuh-uh, there was barely anything in there to begin with!”
“Roman, it was filled to the brim two seconds ago, what are you talking about?”
Before the two of you could divulge into a round of childish bickering, Connor abruptly straightened in his seat. “Her dot is at an aquarium supply retailer. That doesn’t make sense—is that a drug thing?”
Kendall cleared his throat. “No, I don’t think so.”
“You sure?”
Roman snickered. “It is. It’s a drug thing.”
“Maybe she’s getting a pet fish,” you unhelpfully supplied. “A little pre-wedding gift for the two of you?”
Frowning, Connor said, “Now she’s at a dry cleaner’s.”
“Probably getting her panties cleaned from the new dick’s cum,” quipped Roman. The absurdity of the statement made you laugh unexpectedly, but you quickly quietened when Connor stared at the two of you in horror.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, as if he were a parent scolding a naughty toddler.
“I’m not saying it’s your cum! Your cum, I’m sure, is very washable.” Roman droned on to an incredulous Connor some more, but your attention was drawn to Kendall, whose phone began to ring, and he quietly excused himself from the bar to take the call, face twisted into unmistakeable dread. You briefly wondered who he looked so anxious to talk to, but the thought was quick to banish from your mind entirely when Connor prodded Roman in the shoulder and said your name.
“Okay, that’s enough from you. Y/N, can you tell him to stop? Tell him to stop.”
“Stop it, Roman. Don’t talk about your brother’s cum, you weirdo.”
Rubbing his palms together, Roman shrugged the matter away entirely. “I’m starving. Anything to eat in this shit shack, or what?”
By the time Kendall came back, the rest of you were crowded into a small booth with a dingy little light hanging a little too low over the table. There was a platter of cheesy nachos in the center, which Shiv eyed with distaste. Roman was still looking over the menus, sarcastically wondering aloud from which creature they’d clipped the wings off of.
“Who were you talking to, Ken?” you asked. “It wasn’t Frank again, was it?”
Kendall’s eyes darted from your face down to the floor. “Uh… no. No, it was—it was Stewy.”
Something about his demeanor screamed that he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but you kept quiet, watching him with just barely narrowed eyes.
“Oh, great. What the fuck does he want now?” Roman hissed, peering over the crinkled lamination of the menu he was holding.
Kendall leaned forward slightly, regarding Shiv with a pointed stare. “Actually, guys, can I… can I show you something? On the comparables. It’s actually pretty fucking intriguing.”
Your eyebrows rose a fraction. Just a few moments ago, Kendall wasn’t at all interested in Sandi and Stewy’s pitching. What changed his mind?
Nodding in satisfaction, Shiv added, “Yeah, see? It makes you think. Maybe Dad isn’t on it like he used to be. You know, he’s being pushed around by Matsson—hell, even by Kerry. Giving shows to his girlfriend? That’s just—it’s an embarrassment!”
Loudly, Connor exclaimed, “Fuck, she’s in the East River now! She’s in the—oh. Wait, no, she’s just on the bridge.” You popped a nacho in your mouth and glanced over at Connor, who was squinting down at his phone.
“Looks like she’s going on a little trip,” you hummed. “She’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, okay, not to be dicks, Con, but is it okay if we do a little breakout chat, just the four of us? We won’t be long, like—two minutes max,” Shiv said, expression serious and unyielding.
Rolling his eyes, Roman gestured to his oldest brother. “Hey, just—fuck it. Why don’t we fold Con in?”
“Well, he’s not on the board, so—”
“Yeah, but he has a share. If the deal falls, he loses his payout.”
An incredulous frown pulled at his lips. “Excuse me?” Connor said.
“Oh, okay, so Shiv wants to get us mixed up in some drug deal that will fuck the vote tomorrow,” Roman told him, pursing his lips in an exaggerated fashion.
Holding her hands out, Shiv shook her head. “Uh, no. All we’re aiming for is a small delay. We all want the deal to go through.”
“Right,” you said with an amused snort. “Sure.”
“I, uh… I think I agree,” said Kendall.
Roman’s eyes widened. “Oh, what the fuck? Seriously?”
“It’s just—looking at the numbers… it’s compelling.”
With a grand scoff, Roman shook his head. “It’s compelling? Wow. You’d find a bag of peanuts more compelling, Kendall.”
You placed a hand over Roman’s jolting knee. “Rome, why don’t we just hear them out?” His eyes met yours, hesitant and conflicted. “And think—wouldn’t it be fun? Fucking Matsson in the ass?”
“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, you freak,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.
“So you guys are just gonna force Dad to grovel?” Connor asked, mouth parted in surprise. “Oh, man. How long will a renegotiation take?”
Shiv’s lips twisted downwards, though it was more of a smile than a frown. “It’s a play. More money is more money, and that’s all there is to it.”
It was then that Roman’s phone, facing upwards on the chipped table, vibrated thrice. The screen lit up with a text notification.
Dad.
All the siblings had seen it, and Shiv rushed to angle the phone towards her. Roman slapped her hand away, yanking his phone towards his chest. Hiding it.
“What the fuck?” Shiv asked, wary. “The fuck is Dad messaging you for?”
Roman stood frozen, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. “Uh, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him? Stupid question, Shivvy.”
Kendall stared at his younger brother blankly. “You’re not gonna read it?”
There was a brief pause. “Yeah, I’ll—I’ll read the damn thing. Sure.” A swipe of his phone, a kink to his brows. “It’s just a check-in.”
“Oh, yeah?” Shiv said, skeptical. “A check-in? Oh, yeah. Classic Dad. He just loves to check in on us, see how we’re doing.”
Backing down, Roman fessed up, “Okay, fine, I sent him a text on his birthday. Just saying, you know, happy birthday, sorry we missed it—”
“I’m sorry, wait a minute!” Shiv exclaimed. “You texted him first?”
Roman frowned. “It was his birthday, yeah.”
“We said no contact until he apologizes!” she angrily pointed out.
“Okay, so then never?” Roman shot back, scowling.
With a tilt of your head, you said, “It was just a simple happy birthday, right? That’s harmless. Right, Roman?” You pressed your foot over his, enough so he could feel the pressure, but not enough to hurt him.
“Yeah. That was it.”
“Nuh-uh. I want to see your phone,” said the red-head.
A flicker of panic flashed across Roman’s eyes. “Oh, really? Show me yours, then! World’s biggest WhatsApp group of people sharing pictures of your snatch. No, thank you. Fuck off, fuck you.”
“Roman, come on,” Kendall said. “We have to trust each other.”
Memories of Kendall forcefully taking Roman’s phone from you in Hungary briefly crossed your mind. You pursed your lips. He’d been hiding things from you then, who was to say he wasn’t hiding things from you now?
Relenting, Roman tossed his phone onto the table, almost hitting the platter of nachos. He was growing angrier by the second, frustrated by his siblings' shoes pressing against his spine. “Fine, take a good look. I don’t give a shit. It’s just dick pics, anyway. He’s got a real taste for ‘em now.”
You leaned over to read along with Shiv and Kendall. It looked fine to you—since it was just a simple birthday wish, but they seemed much more harsh in their critique.
“This is more than one text, Roman.” There was a crease between Shiv’s brows.
“Okay. What is it? Two, three?”
Kendall rubbed the faint stubble over his jaw. “It’s a bit warm.”
“Warm? Why, what did I say?”
“Take care.”
Scoffing, Roman’s eyes rolled up to the dingy, low-hanging light. “What was I supposed to say? Happy birthday, hope you fall down a flight of stairs, shithead!”
“I feel a little bit weird about this betrayal, if I’m being honest,” Shiv said in a steely tone.
“Betrayal?” Roman parroted, almost offensively. “The betrayal of happy birthday, Dad. Take care!”
“You know what?” Kendall chimed in. “I’m feeling a bit betrayed, too.”
Upset, Roman just about slammed his phone back down on the tabletop. “Wow. Great. Fucking family guilt-trip fest.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “It’s not illegal to say happy birthday, guys. Relax, okay?”
Connor nodded. “It’s hard. It’s been hard on everybody.”
The five of you sat in silence for a bit longer. Has it been hard? Or did it just feel like it because all of you had been so accustomed to getting everything handed over on a silver platter?
Finally, Shiv swallowed heavily and said, “You know that he advised Tom on the divorce? Gave him a Dad trick—went and spoke to every pit bull in Manhattan and tied them up. I got Mommed.”
You frowned. So much had happened in the past few months, you’d sort of even forgotten Shiv and Tom were heading for divorce. “Tom did that? Jeez… I’m sorry, Shiv.”
Roman blew out a breath, mildly relieved that the heat was taken off of him for a moment. “I mean, there’s probably one more horrible motherfucker lawyer around somewhere, but, uhm… that sucks. I’m sorry.”
Shiv refused to meet either of your gazes. She didn’t want to be reduced to… Tom’s ex-wife. A shadow of her mother.
“Guys, I just feel like we need to stick together,” Kendall said, firm. We should push back, and we should all be on board. We squeeze them.”
Equally level, Roman placed his hands on the table. “Okay, but, we want to do Pierce, right? We want an out?”
“Yes. But just with a bit more money,” Kendall agreed.
“Yeah, that’s the thing—I don’t think Matsson will go up in price,” Roman argued. “He won’t! I know this, because I’ve spoken to him. I really think he might walk.”
Good, you wanted to say, but you bit down on your tongue.
Both Shiv and Kendall began poking fun at him for not calling Matsson’s bluff.
Exasperated, Roman rubbed his knuckles along his hairline. “Okay, it just sounded like he meant it.” He didn’t look happy with the prospect of blocking the deal. He wanted to be a traitor to his Dad without being a traitor. To have his cake and eat it, too.
Shiv and Roman fell into another argument about whether or not Roman cared over conflict—that he was scared of his own Dad and wanted to back down like a coward.
Quelling his riled-up siblings, Kendall motioned for them to quiet down. “Honestly, though, guys. I think going with Sandi and Stewy is the best thing for us to do. As a team.”
Shiv nodded in agreement. “It’s a play. Buys us a couple weeks and more money.”
“He’ll get it,” Kendall said, trying to sway Rome. “It’s what Dad would do in his prime.”
And was that the goal? To try and imitate the beast to scare him off? A moth with false eyes to ward away predators?
Roman squinted at nothing in particular. Then, he angled his face to look at you. You hadn’t at all realized that your features were immobilized in uncertainty.
“What?” Roman asked, knee knocking against yours.
“Your Dad’s going to hate us if we pull this.”
Roman laughed, high and nervous. The idea made him nauseous. “Seems like he already does.”
“No, he… he loves you. All of you. But this is… he’ll hate that he loves you, sure, that’s always been the case. But this time… he’ll hate you if you’re the reason he can’t win.”
Something sick twisted within Roman’s gut. He seemed to go all pale and wide-eyed.
“It’s just a play, though,” Shiv said.
“Just a play,” Roman echoed, sounding unsure. “It isn’t real?”
Kendall nodded. Shiv, too.
“Fine. Yeah, fuck it. I’m in.” Roman caved, and the two smiled at him. You squeezed his knee.
With a sharp exhale, Connor huffed, “God damn it. God fucking damn it! You ruined it. You ruined it all.”
Roman apologized, but it seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Kendall tried to calm him down by asking his brother what he wanted to do. After all… it was supposed to be his big night before the big day.
“I wanted to get married tomorrow,” he said, cross. “I wanted to spend tonight with my family and tomorrow with Dad. I wanted to get my fucking money out. But you guys fucked it!”
Feeling mildly guilty, your other hand came up to rub Connor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, really. You’re an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. What can we do to make you feel better, Con?”
Several moments passed by in silence as Connor thought about it. What did he want? A giant bowl of ice cream so large you couldn’t see around it? A perfectly-tailored suit from the most expensive store he could find? A vintage bottle of whiskey and a nice book to sit with? They all sounded appealing to him.
“I would…” he finally started, “I’d like to sing one fucking song at karaoke because I’ve seen it in the movies, and nobody ever wants to go.”
Roman just about banged his head on the table. You flicked at his ear, before turning back to Connor. “Karaoke. Yeah, we can do that, Con.”
The room was illuminated with hazy shades of purples and blues, the lights hidden behind indents in the wall. It looked modern and sleek—an upscale to what was typically seen in the movies. Connor didn’t hesitate to make a beeline for the karaoke machine, fiddling with buttons and remotes and smiling to himself when he managed to get it up and working without asking for help. Shiv and Kendall wandered around cautiously. Roman was quick to toss himself onto the long, spacious couch, hanging off of the seats as if he were melting. You curled up beside him with a pleased hum, nose brushing over his lower cheek, scratchy with barely-there stubble.
There was a bit more dilly-dallying—Connor was concerned about Willa’s blue dot disappearing completely. The siblings were quick to brush him off, reassure him, tell him he wasn’t going to ever do better than Willa. The usual.
You sipped on a glass of champagne that Kendall handed you. There was more chatter—amicable and light and teasing. You poked fun at Kendall’s lame hat whilst Shiv plainly told Roman that his shoes were a size too large for his feet. That his feet were small and dainty and he would fall over if they were any smaller. More drinks, more giggling, more stories. You learned that fresh-faced college Kendall once puked on Stewy’s bed and cried at the foot of it after drinking too much. You told the siblings that you once slept with Angelina from accounting during your first year at the company, to which they responded with shocked snorts. There was a point where Roman grabbed your face and kissed you and kissed you until the rest of the siblings began faux-gagging, and Connor complained that it was like watching his siblings make out. Goddaughter-and-son incest, he’d said.
It was fun, maybe. The closest to fun you could have with Roy siblings.
And it was gone in a second, like a candle snuffed in a hurricane.
Logan was coming. Connor invited him because he loved him and he loved all of you and—
It hurt. Simple as that. It hurt to see the people he loved so… so torn.
The smiles melted away, and the laughter buzzed down. It was tense again. Family turned business once more. Connor finally put on a song to sing while he waited for his father to come, but your ears rang with white noise, so you didn’t quite register which song he was brokenly following along.
You were scared, you realized. Scared to face the man with the knife in his back. Roman worked his jaw and he complained some more. Not that you really heard what he said.
At some point, his phone began to ring, vibrating in his pants, pressed up against your leg. You raised a brow and scooched back so he could take it out to check.
Logan. Dad. Of course. Roman’s hands shook, but only a little bit. Enough for you to see. Shiv grabbed it and hung up for him, not liking how long he hesitated. You stared at the black screen for a bit longer, your own fingers twitching.
Connor continued to sing. He finished three songs—maybe four—until the door creaked open. No knocks.
Colin came in first, then your godfather, then Kerry. He nodded, almost polite, with a casual greeting hanging in the air. It was eternally strange, the way Logan smiled at you. Warm, maybe. You didn’t know.
“Shit,” Roman said, almost amused, mostly… unprepared.
Chancing a glance to Shiv and Kendall, you noticed their stiff upper lips, their frozen postures.
“Can we go somewhere else?” Logan asked, glancing around the large room. “These lights, er…”
Shiv shook her head in exasperation. A roll of her eyes. “We’re not going anywhere.”
There was little resistance to Logan. “Fine,” he easily acquiesced. With that, he took a seat in a velvet black chair, across all the siblings and you. Kerry jerked to sit next to him, which made Shiv recoil with a sneer.
“We won’t be needing you, Kerry. Thanks.”
Roman nodded. “Yeah, this here is a family fuck-fuck.”
There were a few glances around, Logan and Kerry looked at each other but neither moved.
“Let’s get this figured out, and I can let you get back to your fun,” said Logan, ignoring them.
“Might be a wasted trip,” Kendall sardonically replied, tongue sharp. “Wanna give us a blast of New York, New York and fuck off?”
“I wanted to say something,” their father said.
Shiv retorted something else, and Kendall snickered under his breath. The buzzing in your ears grew louder.
“I guess I just wanted you there, a bit,” Logan said. “At my party.”
It was a play. Was it? Yes, of course. But if it wasn’t…
But it was.
“Holy shit,” Kendall crooned. “Did Dad just say a feeling?”
“Well, you know. I thought maybe it would be nice,” said Logan.
With exaggerated motions of his hands, Kendall exclaimed, “Oh, fuck! Now it’s all coming out! Oh, my God, Mr. Melodrama here! It’s like a fucking telenovela!”
Connor gestured between Kendall and his dad. “Come on, guys. He’s trying.”
Logan smiled, calm. “Y/N, dear,” he began. Your eyes snapped up to meet his and your spine seemed to grow rigid. “I had a lovely chat with your father. He was… surprised that you’re no longer holding Waystar together. Wouldn’t it be a shame, considering all the money he’s invested into the company? You’re setting millions on fire.”
The siblings all looked at you, curious. You swallowed, finding your throat painfully dry, despite all the champagne you’d been sipping prior to Logan’s arrival.
“If they expected me to stay at Waystar my entire life, they were always bound to be disappointed,” you responded, careful. “I won’t be tied down.”
A twitch of the old man’s mouth. Down or up or perhaps it hadn’t moved at all. “A shame. You worked so hard to compose acquisition branch details on Pierce just under a year ago. So much paperwork.” He shook his head. “And all of you—you knew I wanted Pierce ever since then. When I lost out, it wasn’t a good feeling.”
Fed up, Shiv finally leaned forward and hissed out, “I’m sorry, can we just cut the shit? It’s obvious why you’re here, Dad!”
Unsuspectingly, Kerry chimed, “Your father wanted to address the personal stuff and not just launch into business.”
Shiv’s jaw clicked. “Well, see, this isn’t personal, Dad. This is a business decision. This is about the money.”
Logan bobbed his head. “Look, you’re smart to ask about the money. You are. But Matsson—he won’t go there. You haven’t been around this, but I’ve got done a good deal and you’ll get enough to do whatever you want. I do ATN, you do Pierce. It’ll be a fresh start for all of us. It’ll make things better, and it starts there. All you have to do is… vote yes and support the deal.”
There was an uneasy shift next to you—Roman looked torn.
“You can separate the personal from the business,” Kerry offered. “Reset your dynamic as a family.”
Shiv snorted. “Oh, super! It’s gonna be just like how it used to—summer vacay and road trip musicals!”
Hesitant, Roman supplied, “It just… it may be more complicated than that, dad.”
“I guess you’re still in the honeymoon phase,” Shiv told Kerry, cold and sarcastic. “Getting your own show on TV… amazing.”
The dark-haired woman glanced around, seeming to shrink further into her seat.
“No?” Roman asked, his attention piqued. Anything to latch onto to make everything feel less—tortuous. “You’re not going to be on TV now?”
Shiv laughed. “Has he fucked you on that?”
Kendall nodded. “That’ll happen. The fucking. But congrats on losing your betrayal cherry—”
“Enough!” Logan said. It wasn’t loud, but heavy with finality. Your pulse skipped a beat, scratching down your ribcage almost painfully. Logan looked tired. “I though you’d be interested in an apology, but that’s enough.”
Incredulous, Shiv held a hand out. “Wait, what? An apology? We missed that, I think.”
Logan fixed an intense stare over all his children. “Look, I don’t do apologies. But if it means so much to you, then… sorry.”
In all your years of living, you’re not sure you’ve ever heard Logan apologize before. Was it genuine? Was it real? There was a long, terse silence. Roman stared at his father with his mouth slightly agape. You wrapped your arms around your stomach and stared at the door. Connor was looking down at his shoes. Kendall aimlessly observed Logan, finding that the apology he’d yearned for so many years of his life seemed to fall incredibly flat.
Shiv just about glared at her father in a challenging fashion, lips pursing tight. “There is nothing you could say to me now that I would ever believe.”
“This deal push could be worth a hundred mil to us, Dad,” said Kendall. “How many sorrys do we get for that?”
Kerry was starting to say something, but Roman butted in, looking incredibly troubled. “What are you actually sorry for, Dad? Are we actually doing this? Because I think, you know… seriously, what fucked all of this was when… it all happened with Mom in Italy.”
Logan averted his gaze to the carpeted ground. “Yeah, okay. I’ve had certain thoughts about that. With the best of intentions, I got the structure of the holding company, and the ownership structure of the family trust. There is a lack of clarity, and maybe you got a—”
“Amazing,” Shiv deadpanned, cutting her father off. “You sure you’re not having a seizure?”
For the first time in a very long time, Connor raised his voice at his baby sister. “He’s trying, Shiv! You said you were interested in an apology!”
Shiv glared at her father again. In a less harsh tone, she asked, “Anything else, Dad?”
There was a long pause. You wondered if Logan was haggling for words.
“Come on, Dad,” Kendall goaded. “What are you sorry for?”
It felt like bullying, almost. In a severely twisted way.
Kendall continued on, “Are you sorry for fucking ignoring Connor his whole life?”
“Bit strong,” protested Connor.
“Hitting Rome when he was a kid?” Kendall pointed at Roman, who shrugged.
“Oh, no—I mean, everyone hit me. I’m fucking annoying.”
You frowned at Roman’s words, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“Having Connor’s mom locked up?” Kendall continued on.
Something twisted in the eldest Roy sibling’s expression. “Can we not do a whole show trial here?”
Finally, Shiv hissed out, “Okay, what about advising Tom on my divorce? Yeah? I mean, that took effort. That was above and beyond.”
“Tom asked me for advice,” said Logan. It didn’t go past everyone’s notice how he ignored all the rest of the hurtled accusations. “I recommended someone he could speak to. You weren’t around. If you’d been around, I would’ve offered you the same advice. But I can’t help you if you don’t see me.”
Shiv was hurt. It was clear as day, even if she refused to show it. She built up a wall, a front, brick by brick, and spun her hurt feelings into a low-flamed fury.
“Bottom line is, if we ask for more money, Matsson walks. I know that.”
“No!” Shiv asserted. There was something firmer in her tone this time. Angrier. “You don’t know that! You don’t know him! You don’t fucking know everything! Just because you say it doesn’t make it true! Everyone just fucking agrees with you and believes you so it becomes true—and then you can turn around and say oh! You see? I was right! But that’s just—that’s not how it is. You’re a human fucking gaslight!”
The silence that stretched across the room was thin. You were afraid to breathe, and so you bit down on your tongue.
Logan nodded and nodded. The brothers were quiet.
And so you felt compelled to say something. Sick with nerves, but compelled nonetheless. “Matsson has been fucking the company since the very start of negotiations. It’s only fair if you… bite him back.”
Logan watched you. There was something in his eyes that seemed to soften, but it was near imperceptible. Maybe you were simply seeing what you wanted to see. “I can’t take that risk,” he finally said. “Look, I just wanted to get us all together. What you kids don’t realize… this is a good deal. The world likes it. It makes sense. But deals have a habit of disappearing because pricks like Matsson get pissed off or snubbed. This… this is fucking real.”
You turned your head away and stared at the door once more. You wanted to leave. Crawl into bed and stop thinking about it all. Beside you, Roman was biting down on his thumb. A nervous habit.
“Okay, I think I can speak for everyone when I say this… go ask him for more money, Dad.” Shiv narrowed her eyes at her father.
“Why?” Logan asked. Are you not satisfied with what you already have? was the unsaid, lingering question hanging in the air.
Kendall tilted his head up. “Just good business sense. Gotta make our own pile. Right, Dad?”
“Yeah, I just have to listen to my gut. I just gotta go with what my gut says,” Shiv piled on.
“Oh, come on. Jesus.” Logan pulled at his face, tired. In a span of five, maybe ten minutes… he seemed to age a decade. Finally, finally, the nice mask slipped. He leaned back in the velvet seat and spat out, “You’re such fucking dopes.”
Roman’s nose twitched and he shifted so he could lean further into you. You let him.
“You are not serious figures,” Logan went on. “I love you… but you are not serious people.”
His eyes were glassy for a second, but you weren’t exactly sure, because he stood up and hurriedly strode out of the karaoke room the very next second. No goodbyes. Kerry followed close behind him.
The hazy purple lights were beginning to make you nauseous.
Everybody sat in silence for a little while longer. Let the conversation marinate. Shiv poured herself a drink and smiled into the rim, expression victorious.
“How was it for you guys?” she asked the group. “Fucking Dad, that is.”
“Amazing. Just over too soon. I could’ve kept going,” Kendall admitted.
Roman abruptly stood up, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. He made a noise of disgust.
“Rome, we’re kidding, man,” Kendall said.
He began to pace around, like a caged animal. “No, I know. It’s fine. It’s cool.”
Connor also stood up, shrugging on his jacket. “Well… I’m going home. ‘M tired.”
“G’night, Con,” you said. He reached over the couch to give you a one-armed hug from behind. “She’ll come home. Willa.”
“It’s fine,” Connor said.
Kendall arched a brow. “Really?”
“Yeah.” There was a nod and a tap of his shoe. “The good thing about having a family that doesn’t love you is that you learn to live without it.”
Shiv’s face crumpled. “What? Con, that’s not—”
With a shake of his head, Connor scoffed. “You’re all chasing after Dad saying, “Oh, please, love me, love me, I need love, I need attention!””
“I think that’s the opposite of what just happened,” Shiv argued.
“You’re needy love sponges,” Connor pressed. “And I’m a plant that grows on rocks and lives off insects that die inside of me.”
Shiv laughed, Roman huffed, and Kendall stayed silent.
“If Willa doesn’t come back, that’s fine. ‘Cause I don’t need love. It’s like a superpower,” he said. “And if she comes back and doesn’t love me, that’s okay too. I don’t need it. Thanks for the party.” With that, he stepped out of the karaoke room.
You jolted out of your seat, ignoring Roman’s questions as to where you were going. You rushed out the door after Connor, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste.
“Connor!” you called out. The older man halted in the middle of the dimly lit hallway.
“What? I’m not looking for pity, Y/N—”
You shuffled forward the last few steps and put your hand on his elbow. “Con, I just… I wanted to say—” You shook your head and wrapped your arms around him. “You’re my brother. I know you are. And… even if you don’t need love or whatever you were on about in there… I’ll still love you anyway. Okay? I don’t need you to need my love. You’ll have it.”
There was a momentary pause before Connor jerkily moved to pat your back and hug you back. Loose, but solid.
“You’re just a kid. A kid with my kid brother,” he said once he pulled away, rubbing his palms up and down your forearms. His eyes seemed to be watery and tired, but he laughed right from his belly. “I love you, too, kid.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course.”
The two of you grinned at each other.
“G’night, Con.” He let you go when you stepped back. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah…” Connor nodded. “Big day.”
He walked off, and you watched him go. When you heard the door open, you turned to see Roman peeking his head out.
“Hey, Rome,” you greeted. “I love you, you know that?”
His eyes roamed over your face, and he smiled back. It was lopsided and slight. “Mmkay. Yeah, me too, fuckface. You feeling okay?”
“Yeah. Should get home.” You craned your neck to lean forward, affectionately pecking his cheek. “You coming with?”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Eyes to the ground, then to the walls. Not on you.
“Not… not yet. I’ll come in a bit. Just need to grab something from my place first.”
His place was barren. Everything in his place, you had in yours. You probably had more of his clothes in your closet than his own. You regarded him with a curious look, but decided not to press further.
“Okay, Rome. You have the key. Just don’t jostle me awake when you climb into bed.”
He guffawed. “I’ll sleep on the floor then, your royal majesty.”
“Thank you.”
“I was joking. Just so you know. You prick.”
“I know. I wouldn’t want you to sleep on the floor, anyway. A waste of body heat.”
He kissed you then, surging forward to chase after your lips. You hummed in pleasant surprise, but kissed him back with just as much vigor. His lips were a darker shade of pink when he pulled away.
“See you at home, Roman.” After a final pat on his cheek, it was your turn to walk off.
Roman wrung his hands nervously. There’d been a text to his phone while you were out talking to Connor—from his Dad. He glanced back at the door, where Shiv and Kendall were still speaking to each other inside. He rolled his shoulders and began to slowly walk out of the building, careful not to bump into you.
He was going to go pay his father a visit.
The top spot at ATN. Was it a tempting offer in it of itself or was it just tempting because his father was goading him to lick off the silver platter?
When he told you, and of course he told you, you just about blew up—in the most professional, stick-in-ass way possible—warning him not to take the offer with a strained voice and wide eyes. Not even consider it. ATN wasn’t where he wanted to be. His father was offering him a cyanide pill, obscured by a layer of fucking strawberries and cream.
The next morning, he numbly got dressed for Connor’s wedding. Got into the car after you, pinching your thigh once he clambered in next to you. His father called him on the way there, much to your dismay, telling him to come with him to meet Matsson, despite Connor’s wedding being literal hours away.
Roman turned him down. But he didn’t turn Logan away when he told Roman to fire Gerri since, apparently, he was beginning to lose faith in her.
You were pretending not to listen to their conversation, but he knew you were. He could tell by the way your jaw seemed to twitch at the prospect of cutting Gerri loose.
“Shit,” he breathed out once Logan hung up on him. “That’s fucking… bullshit.”
You drew your eyes away from the window, regarding him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do it, Rome.”
Everything felt crowded and tense all of a sudden. Roman squared his shoulders defensively. There was a stinging quip on the tip of his tongue, but nothing seemed to come out other than a rather passive, “Mmh.”
The rest of the drive to the wedding venue was silent. But your hand came to lace with his, and that made him feel just a bit better.
Once there, about half a dozen cameras swarmed the two of you coming out of the car, taking several candid shots, much to your irritation. It was only expected, what with Connor being in the run for president and the whole wedding being a PR move, anyway. But you gave them a smile nonetheless, made a show of kissing Roman’s cheek and walked off to greet other work acquaintances and wedding guests. From the corner of your eye, you could see Roman trying to talk to Gerri with a rather terse look on his face. You tried not to pay him any mind. He was digging his own grave.
Half an hour later, the wedding planner announced for family and friends to start boarding the boat. The few businesswomen you were chatting to kissed you on the cheek and told you they’d see you soon. You waved them goodbye and made your way onto the boat. Kissed and hugged and congratulated Willa. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress, even if she didn’t appear all too happy wearing it. After a short conversation, you moved on into the boat.
It was lavishly decorated, screaming luxury and American patriotism. There was a concerning amount of blue and red strewn everywhere. They weren’t being very subtle, were they?
You made your way onto the second floor, greeted by Kendall in a pair of sunglasses.
“Hey, loser,” he said, nudging you in the side. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” you replied, giving him a quick once over. “You look shitty. Hiding your terrible eyebags behind those shades, are you? Not doing a very good job, by the way.”
He seemed unfazed by your jab. “You excited for the wedding?”
“Neither Connor nor Willa seem too hot about it,” you told him with a mild grimace. On your way to the boat, you heard Connor yelling at his wedding planner about the cake being inadequate.
Kendall shrugged and pulled a nonchalant expression. “It’ll blow over. They’ll be fine.”
“I know. It just feels so… fake. All of it.” You jerked your head toward a frilly blue, red, and white banner.
“Yeah, well, yours won’t be,” he said, scrutinizing you behind those ridiculous shades of his. “With Rome, I mean.”
“Wow! Yeah, well, we aren’t quite there yet, I think.” You laughed and rolled your eyes to the ceiling. “Besides, I can’t guarantee that you’re even invited to this hypothetical wedding. Who knows? I can never tell with you guys. You’re always five minutes away from ruining each other’s lives or being best friends.”
“I’ll crash your wedding if I’m not invited. It’s my baby brother, dude. I have to be there,” he said. You couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not.
“Good to know,” came your lighthearted retort. “I’ll be sure to save a slice of cake for you.”
With that, you bumped your fist into his bicep and walked off. Then, you spotted Roman out on deck, phone in his hand. You stepped out just in time to hear him bark out, “Don’t listen to this if you don’t want to—but I’m not… I’m not, uh, totally okay with… are you kinda just being shitty with me, Dad? ‘Cause… your son is getting married, and you can’t fucking just keep expecting me to bend over for you and being cunty, so I’m just asking. Yeah—that’s the question, actually. Are you a cunt? Okay. Give me a buzz.”
There were a few seconds of silence after he hung up. You approached him from behind and slung both your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder.
“Hey, fuckface,” he said. He sounded tired. Distressed.
“Hey,” you quietly said in reply. “I’m proud of you.”
“For calling Dad a cunt?”
“Yeah.” You huffed out a laugh. “I really am proud of you.”
Roman leaned back against you and hummed. “I just got on this boat and I already want to fucking leave.”
“That’ll break Connor’s heart.”
“I know. I’m his favorite brother.”
“I think Shiv is his favorite brother, actually.”
The two of you laughed, and he didn’t bother arguing back.
“Come on. I think Kendall and Shiv are looking for you,” you said, tugging him inside.
The two of you greeted the three other Roy siblings, where Connor was giving a rundown of his plan for Logan.
“Okay, so the idea is that Dad will pop by, be dockside, and you guys will just be up here. I think that’s cleanest,” Connor told all of you.
Shiv pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Oh… okay. You really think he’s going to pop by?”
“I spoke with Kerry,” Connor said with a smile, crossing his fingers. “He’s hoping.”
With a nod of thanks, he gave you and Roman both a quick hug, before rushing back downstairs to be with his wife-to-be.
“Well, someone’s gotta tell him,” said Shiv. “We should tell him.”
“We should,” Kendall agreed. Both you and Roman nodded.
“Well, Shiv, you are his favorite,” you offered.
The woman’s face regarded you as if you’d just stabbed her in the back. “No, come on—really?”
“He likes you,” Kendall insisted.
“Fine,” she sighed with slitted eyes. “I’ll be the wedding Grinch. Fuck you.”
The three of you watched her go with muted snickers.
Then, Roman’s phone began to buzz. He fished it out of his pocket and let out an annoyed groan upon seeing Tom’s caller ID.
“Oh my—ugh,” Roman hastily pressed on the green answer button, “Hello? Fucky-sucky brigade, how can I help you? Yeah?”
You leaned onto the fancy leather couches next to Kendall, who was staring out the window, watching the gentle waves roil over the surface of the harbor. “Hey, Ken?”
“Mmh?”
“I’d invite you, you know.”
Kendall’s eyes left the waters to look at you. “What?”
“To my wedding. Before I said I couldn’t guarantee you a spot—but I’d want you there.”
Something akin to gratitude flashed across his face. Before he could say anything, Roman’s panicked voice echoed over, and the both of you snapped your heads towards him.
“What?” he said into the phone. “Tom, what are you—?”
“What?” Kendall asked, immediately on his feet. “What’s happening?”
You followed suit, the two of you hovering over Roman’s sides.
His palms grew white over the phone. “It’s—uh, Tom. Apparently Dad’s sick. Uh, what do you mean he’s sick? Sick, like—Tom? What’s going on? Are you still there?”
“Where is he now?” you asked, brows furrowed. Roman could only shake his head, equally clueless, pulling the phone away so he could put it on speaker.
“Is he okay?” Kendall immediately asked. “Who’s with him?”
There was a lot of rustling and rummaging. It felt as if your heart had crawled its way into your throat.
“It—it seems bad. Very, very bad. I’m so sorry to call you like this,” Tom’s voice crackled through.
“What?” you croaked. “What is it, though? Like, a fever?”
“Can you put him on the phone?” Roman asked. His voice shook and his brows were pulled tightly together.
Again, Kendall asked the same questions, “Who’s there? Tom, what’s going on? What happened?”
“Ah—” You could practically see Tom scratching at his head. “He was short of breath and he went into the bathroom. And, well, uh, someone heard something and we were concerned, and they went in there.”
Kendall used his hands to gesticulate to nobody in particular. “They broke in?”
“They broke in, yeah. They had the key and they got in, but he’s not responsive.”
“Not responsive?” you parroted, eyes widening. This was far worse than just… sick. “Like—is he conscious?”
The brothers started to blurt out a multitude of questions, concerns exponentially heightened.
“Is he talking? Can he talk?” Kendall asked.
“Is he breathing?” Roman’s shoulders were hunched over, as if he was trying to shrink in on himself.
There was a brief pause. Uncomfortable and festered with fear.
“They’re doing chest compressions,” Tom’s voice pierced through.
Your lungs seemed to contract in panic at his words. The room felt all the smaller.
“Oh!” Roman exclaimed in a mixture of both shock and anguish. “Fuck.”
Kendall only pressed on with his queries. “Has his heart stopped?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you guys have the machine on board? The heart thing?” Roman asked.
“The defibrillator,” you said, clutching both your anxious, wringing hands to your chest.
How had the day turned on its head so quickly?
“Is Siobhan there?” Tom’s voice was patchy and unclear. It was hard to hear over Kendall’s barrage of frustration.
“No, she’s not,” said Roman.
“Karl said that maybe he’s breathing,” Tom claimed.
Leaning forward, you hissed out, “Karl isn’t a medical professional, Tom. Who’s trained in there?”
“The, uh, the people. The attendant. I’ll put you on speaker—here’s, uh, Karl, here—”
The older man’s voice buzzed through, “That captain has been informed. The cabin staff are receiving medical advice from their service.”
Both Kendall and Roman barked questions over each other. Faintly, you heard an additional third voice in the back of the call.
“Is that Frank?” you asked.
Tom cleared his throat. “Yeah, so—Frank thinks you guys should speak to him. And I can—I can hold the phone near him if you’d like.”
Roman bit down on his tongue, angry. “Why does Frank think that, Tom?”
“I guess if it’s a last chance, you know. I think it’s the last chance.”
A shudder and a glare from Roman to the phone. “What the fuck do you mean, Tom?”
“You think he’s gonna die?” you whispered, eyes stinging as you stared down at the screen, watching the seconds of the call tick by.
“He’s… he’s not in good shape. They’re doing chest compressions.”
“Well, should they be doing that?” Roman just about yelled at the phone. You placed a hand on his hunched shoulder.
Frank began talking again, “They’re getting advice, they know what they’re doing. But I think you should talk to him. I’m not sure he’s breathing.”
The two both spluttered angrily. In denial, in frustration, in utter devastation.
“We just heard that he was breathing two seconds ago, Frank. You shouldn’t be doing CPR on someone who’s heart is still going! What the fuck is going on, Frank?” Kendall gritted out.
“I’ll put you by his ear,” Tom said. “I’ll put you right by him. He’ll be able to hear you if—if he can.”
If you hadn’t been so hyperfocused on the call, you would’ve realized that your entire body began to simultaneously tremble and tense, like a plank of wood caught in a hurricane.
“Uh, you might wanna get Shiv, so she can—”
“Yeah, we’ll—we’ll get her,” said Roman.
“Okay, I’ll put you by him now.”
“Is he okay?”
“No, Rome, he’s not okay.”
“You can speak now. Go ahead.”
There was a blistering silence. Roman gestured for Kendall to take the phone first, but he shook his head. He turned to you, but you weren’t even looking in his direction, clamoring for your own phone to try and contact Karolina. Your hands seemed not to work in coordination with your mind, because you struggled getting your phone to unlock, and then struggled even more to open up the right app to get to your contacts list.
This left Roman to speak to his maybe-dead dad on his own. He hurried around the room, as if there was going to be a corner on this wretched yacht that would make this somewhat easier to say. He ended up crouching by the end of the leather couch.
“Hey, Dad. I, uh, hope you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Was he reassuring himself or his father? “Because you’re a—you’re a monster, and you’re going to win. ‘Cause you just—you just win. That’s what you do. And you’re, uh… you’re a good man. You’re a good dad. A very good dad. Uh… you did a good job. No—no. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do that.”
With that, Roman unceremoniously stood up and shoved his phone right into your palms, tugging away your own. “It’s your turn.”
Your shaking grew all the worse, but you put on a brave face and held it up to your face.
“Oh, uhm—hi, Uncle Logan. You, uhm… oh—I wasn’t prepared or this, you know, I would’ve… I would’ve, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have…”
It occurred to you that you managed to say absolutely nothing in the precious few seconds he had left. This sent you spiraling into another bout of anxious trembling. You only barely registered Roman’s own shaking hand on your side.
“You were so—such a big role in my life. So important. And—and, and, I really couldn’t have done anything without your help. Thank you. For everything. I… I love you, Uncle Lo. Really, I do. And I love your kids like my own siblings, and—and Rome, I’m—I love him. I promise I’ll, uh, I’ll take care of him. I just—uhm, I can’t really, there are just so many things you…”
Your nails scratched over your chest as you heaved out a shuddering breath. Realizing you couldn’t finish, you made your way over to Kendall and handed the phone to him with teary eyes.
“Okay,” Kendall said with the phone by his nose, blinking helplessly at the ground. “Hang in there. Yeah? Uhm…”
“It’ll be okay,” Roman softly whispered to him.
“It’ll be okay,” Kendall repeated into the phone. “We love you, Dad. Okay? We love you. I love you, Dad. I do. I love you, okay? Uh—and… it’s okay. Even though you fucking… I don’t know. I can’t—I can’t forgive you.”
You sniffled and wiped a stray tear with the sleeve of your dress.
After a few final words, Kendall handed the phone back to Roman. Tom’s voice crackled through again, asking for Shiv.
“Ken’s gonna get Shiv,” Roman said, voice small and child-like. Kendall nodded and staggered his way out of the room.
There was more commotion on the other end of the line.
“What’s going on now?” Roman asked.
“I, uhm—there’s, I’m not so sure—” Tom’s glitchy voice replied. “I think he’s gone, Roman.”
“What?” you asked.
“I think—I don’t know, I think there might not be a pulse, they’re not—”
A few seconds passed, with only scuffling noises on the other end. Shiv and Kendall appeared through the doorway just a minute later.
“They think he’s gone,” Roman told his sister as he handed the phone to her. “They think he’s dead.”
“What?” Shiv asked, her eyes welling up almost instantaneously. “No! I… I can’t have that.”
Tom spoke a few words to his wife, telling her that he was putting the phone back by Logan’s ear. Shiv strode away to ramble to her father in a semi-panicked fashion. She called him Dad at first, which spiraled into whisper-cries of Daddy, and angry curses intermingled with a multitude of I love yous.
You tugged at your face, aching with all the tension you were carrying. Roman’s hand was on your arm, but he left your side half a minute later to take the phone away from Shiv, who seized up with incoherent noises through blurred tears. He hugged her, but she didn’t return it, frozen on the spot.
The siblings all asked him more questions.
“Is he okay at all?” Kendall asked.
“He’s not okay, no,” replied Tom. “He’s not.”
Shiv sucked in a shaky breath. “Is he gone? Tom?”
A brief pause.
“They say his heart stopped and his breathing stopped, too. For a while, maybe.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead, medically!” Roman asserted. “Right?”
You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it did mean exactly that.
“I don’t know,” came Tom’s calm voice. “They’re still doing chest compressions.”
Kendall began to order Tom around, then Frank, then Jess. Something about getting the best doctor in the world. The best airplane medicine expert, whatever that meant. He disappeared out of the room to go up to the deck. You took a seat on the couch and sank your face into your palms.
When Kendall returned, his face was solemn and set in stone. “Frank thinks he’s gone,” he said.
Roman sank down on the ground, right by your feet. Shiv took a seat next to you.
“Why didn’t you come and get me?” Shiv sniffled, looking up at her big brother.
“I—Shiv, I did. We did,” Kendall said.
“No, but I was right out there. How long was it happening before?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m—I wasn’t thinking—” Kendall shook his head.
Roman drew in a sharp breath. “There was no time. I promise you, there was no time at all.”
Kendall took his little sister’s hand and repeated his apologies. The sight made more tears spill over your cheeks.
“I’m sorry, guys,” you hoarsely said. “He’s not even my dad.”
“No, it’s…” Roman patted your knee. “He was. He is. Kind of.”
“It’s just—on the phone Tom said that Kerry spoke to him. Quite a bit,” Shiv said, voice bitter.
“I don’t know,” said Kendall. “I don’t—we don’t know if he could hear us.”
Another sniffle. Shiv nodded a bit. “Yeah. I’m just sad, I guess.”
Roman shifted uncomfortably, looking up at his siblings and you with large, worried eyes. “Uh—do we know if he was on his phone at all? Like, if he checked his messages or anything?”
Faintly, you recalled Roman leaving a voice message for him. Right. Roman had called his father a cunt. And you’d said you were proud of him for it. Nausea pressed fervently against the inside of your stomach. Roman drew in a sharp, stressful breath.
“Rome, it’s okay,” Kendall assured him. “We’re okay. You did good.”
The words didn’t sit with you well. You did good—as if it were one last performance before the curtains closed. The circus monkey and the ringleader.
“Yeah, I know,” he quickly replied. Roman’s expression crumpled. “I don’t know if—I just don’t know. Like, if I said… I just feel like I didn’t—did I even say I loved him?”
Kendall nodded. “I think so, yeah.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” Roman asserted. The grip he had on your knee tightened. “Do you know?”
“Ro, hon, I’m—” The words lodged in your throat as you reached out to brush your knuckles over his cheekbone. “He knows.”
“No, but I really don’t think I did—” Roman jerked away to lean closer to the phone Tom was calling through. “Tom, could you put me back to his ear for—ergh, fuck it. Never mind. I don’t know. Maybe just keep the line open.”
If Tom replied, you didn’t hear.
Instead, you glanced out the doorway, where you saw Connor speaking to some other wedding guests. He didn’t know.
“Oh, fuck. We need to get Connor. We need to tell him,” Roman said, following your gaze. “Can you do it, Ken? I don’t think I can. I mean, I could, I definitely could, I just—”
Kendall nodded solemnly, and stood up. Shiv offered to go with him, rising to her feet and drawing in a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to maintain her long-gone composure.
“Thank you,” Roman said from the ground. He crossed his legs and leaned against the side of your shins. In turn, you placed your hands on his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.
“I don’t remember the last thing I said to him,” you mumbled, voice filled with irritating tremors and warbles. “In that karaoke room. I don’t remember any of it, and I wasn’t even drunk or anything, I just—”
Roman pressed his cheek against your thigh, shutting his eyes. “I think you were okay. I don’t know. Maybe he heard us. And you have such a nice voice, y’know? Maybe it was good for him. If he heard it.”
The two of you sat in stuffy silence for a few minutes more.
The three other siblings came to fetch the two of you sooner than you would’ve liked—whisking all of you upstairs to a more secluded room. Connor had tears in his eyes when all of you filed in, face wrought with anguish. “What happened?” he asked, sounding utterly devastated.
Roman apologized over and over again, but made no attempts to explain to him. Instead, he reached forward to grab at his oldest brother’s arm in a strange sort of semi-hug as Kendall filled Connor in on what happened.
“Well, actually, we don’t really know that he’s gone,” Roman asserted to the rest of you, drawing away from them.
Both Kendall and Shiv began to clamor over the likelihood of Logan’s death. They seemed surprised that Roman was clinging onto such hope that he was alive. You watched Roman with such sad eyes that when he looked at you, he found himself growing even more upset.
“What?” he asked you crossly, brows drawing together. “Why are you looking at me like that? He—he could still fucking be alive! We don’t know! Are you going to trust, what, like, fucking Frank and Karl’s word on it? Don’t look at me like I’m crazy!”
“Right, well, you sound delusional, Rome,” Shiv tried telling him. You could tell she was trying to lay it easy on him and be nice, but it didn’t quite sound that way.
The siblings argued some more. Roman kept denying that Logan was dead, while Shiv gritted out that he’s gone.
“All I’m saying is that we don’t know for sure. And—and until we do know, it’s just not a very nice thing to say, is it? So just fucking stop!” Roman yelled the last word out, and it ricocheted across the room like a bullet would.
They all fell silent for a moment.
“Okay,” Shiv said. She looked to be on the verge of crying again. With quiet, reassuring words, Connor wrapped an arm around his little sister and let her lean against him.
“Roman,” you said, making his eyes snap to you. They were red and looked so tired. You were sure yours looked just the same. When you spread your arms as a non-verbal invite, he surged forward and buried himself into your embrace. The two of you held onto each other as if you were both lifeboats for one another in this vast sea of fucking nothing.
Kendall, disillusioned, went back to staring out the window.
“He didn’t want us together,” Roman choked out, forehead drooped onto your sternum. “He fucking—he told me to end it, and I didn’t listen, and I just never listened to him…”
Both your hands rubbed up and down his back. “I know. I know, Rome. I love you even if he didn’t want me to.”
Your words made Roman’s shoulders curl closer to his chest. Closer to you. “Fuck. Me, too, okay? Me, too.”
Half an hour later, the boat began moving away from the dock, much to all of your chagrin.
Hugo had also come into the room, acting as a liaison. He told the lot of you that the plane-folk were starting to draft a statement to release to the news. The siblings angrily called them to ask what was going on—which did little to sway them.
Not too long after, Gerri came in to offer her condolences. Her presence made Roman all the more turbulent, and he lashed out at her, telling her to fuck off.
Shiv asked her godmother if maybe they could stay up in the air a bit longer to give everyone some more time to think—and Roman told her to fuck off, too. At that point, you stepped in to say that it’s probably best not to delay the inevitable. Thankfully, Roman didn’t tell you to fuck off at that.
“Just to say,” Kendall said once both Hugo and Gerri hurried off to answer calls and get more information, “every single thing we say and do today… it’s all going in the memoirs, going in the fucking congressional record, it’s coming up at board meetings, it’s going in SEC filings.”
“God, Kendall,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “Your grief is not a fucking spectacle, okay? It’s not—none of this is meant to be a performance. You can… you can be a fucking human being for once, okay?”
“No, but, listen, I’m agreeing with you,” he said, holding out a hand. “If we tell them to circle the plane around to buy us time, then some fucking rumors start up, and we get crucified for being cold-hearted, or—I don’t even know. We’re highly liable to misinterpretation right now. What we do today will always be what we did the day our father died. So I’m agreeing with you, Y/N. We shouldn’t delay the inevitable.”
Nose flaring, Shiv shook her head in a frustrated manner.
“So, you know, let’s grieve and whatever,” Kendall continued on, “but not do anything that restricts our future freedom of movement.”
“Okay,” you whispered, nodding in agreement. “Okay, Kendall. We’ll be careful.”
The siblings stepped out to discuss drafting statements themself, and you told them you’d arrange transport off the boat to the airport, where they’d be landing.
Before you reconvened with them, however, you dropped by to see Connor one last time.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a frown that felt strangely childish, enveloping him in a hug. “I’m sorry your dad died, and I’m sorry I won’t be here to see you get married. Everything’s gone to shit and I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”
“It’s okay,” Connor said, rubbing your back comfortingly, not unsimilar to what you did with Roman. “It’s okay, kiddo. I appreciate you coming here to tell me.”
You pulled away, using the back of your palm to brush away your tears. “I got you, uhm—as a wedding present, I got you an oil painting kit. It’s not much, but I thought it’d be fun to try it out with you one day. I guess I just didn’t think—I thought I’d be able to give it to you after the ceremony, but… I don’t think I’ll be around. I’m sorry.”
Connor nodded, and smiled at you sadly. “It’s like you haven’t changed at all in twenty years, you know that? I feel so fuckin’ old.”
“Have a happy wedding, Con,” you told him. With that, you turned on your heel and headed off, breathing out a sigh of relief upon seeing a smaller boat right by the one you were on, ready to take you back to land.
One boat ride, one helicopter flight, and one private car later, you arrived at Teterboro Airport, where their plane touched down. Logan was announced dead at arrival. Roman balked and nearly puked up what little he’d eaten on the boat—you rubbed his back and told him everything was okay as he dry-retched nothing in the airport bathroom. There were already dozens of news reporters and journalists flooding the entrance-way for the impromptu press conference the Roy siblings were holding.
Before the sun was down, the news was spilled at the hands of Shiv. It was short and concise, over in no more than a minute. Questions, questions, and more questions—none of which were answered.
“Are we going to go see him?” Roman asked once it was all over. The plane was in view.
“Do we have to?” Kendall replied.
“I mean, he’s not going to be angry if we don’t,” Shiv replied. The rest of you smiled in silence.
Then, Kendall opened his arms, and the four of you leaned into a brief group hug. You kissed Shiv’s cheek and told her to get home safe. She nodded and took her leave.
Roman jutted his head in the direction of the plane. “I’m gonna go see him. You coming, Kendall?”
The oldest scuffed his shoe into the concrete pathway. “I’m gonna—I’ll watch him come down from here.”
“Okay,” said Roman. There was no surprise in his tone, but it lacked any sort of harsh judgment.
“I’ll come with you,” you told Roman, taking his hand. “If you’re going to go see him, I’ll come with you.”
“Didn’t expect anything less,” he replied, eyes soft and sad.
With a nod of goodbye at Kendall, the two of you left him to stand by the airport exit.
“Do you think he would’ve been okay with us being together eventually, though?” Roman asked after a while, growing increasingly nervous as you neared the plane. Even now that his father was dead, he was still grasping for his approval.
There was a moment of contemplative silence. You wondered if you truly knew the answer to that, or if you were simply feeding into the kind-hearted caricature of a man Logan often didn’t live up to.
“I think so,” you replied. Roman squeezed your hand. “I think he would’ve been proud of us for sticking together, even if he didn’t want us to at first. He would’ve respected you for it, eventually, because you didn’t take his shit.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” You beckoned to the stairs leading up into the plane’s cabin. “You ready?”
“No.” Roman’s jaw squared. “I’m scared, I think. But I have to go see him. You don’t have to come, you know. You don't have to be so fucking good all the time. You can just leave if you want to.”
With a contemplative hum, you nodded once after barely giving his words any thought. “I know I don’t have to be here. I know it all, Rome. But I’ll come with you anyway. Anywhere you go.”
Roman raised your conjoined hands, kissed your knuckles in an appreciative manner, and led the way inside.
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Do What You Want (Roman Roy x Reader)
A/N: I had the idea for this at like 2am right after the newest episode came out, and I finally put it into writing!! This is my first ever Succession fanfiction and of course it had to be about Roman, I adore him this season. (Also, a warning for weird business/power dynamics.)
You sit at a small desk in a poorly lit office in Waystar’s LA office building. There’s an email displayed on your laptop from Joy Palmer, an executive at Waystar’s film production company, and you’ve read it about fifty times now. One more scan won’t hurt.
‘Your CEO terminated my employment over lunch this afternoon. You will be hearing from my legal team shortly.’
As the head of entertainment coverage at ATN, you’ve worked pretty closely with Joy Palmer over the past couple years. Your department reviews all the films that flow through her production company, and you cover (and sometimes attend) the premieres of all their atrocious superhero movies. It’s a fruitful business relationship—that’s just been totally shattered.
You ball your hands into fists and rest your head against them, squeezing your eyes shut. Why the fuck hadn’t anyone told you that Roman was meeting with her? Why hadn’t Roman told you? This is just…dumb. It’s so, so dumb.
It’s not like Roman hasn’t come to you about business stuff before—you’re actually pretty close. When you were promoted to the head of entertainment coverage, you were sort of initiated into the inner circle—with the old guard, Tom, the kids, and Logan Roy himself. You were completely and utterly out of your element, attending board meetings, cross-country business deliberations, and all the other fancy shit that comes with the territory. Roman almost instantly latched himself onto you when you entered his sphere, making weird jokes at your expense and then watching attentively for your reaction with those big, expressive eyes. You found all his stupid comments pretty funny, and you liked the way he lit up when you laughed at them, and so a bond was created. Right now, though… He’s taken the stupid thing a bit too far.
Just as you’re about to look back up at your laptop and start drafting an extremely apologetic response, there’s a knock at the door. “Yeah?” you call.
“It’s your boss—open up,” comes a reply from one Roman Roy.
You exhale heavily as an exasperated, slightly amused grin stretches across your face. What exactly is he looking for, coming to you after he royally fucked your job? “Yeah, come in.”
Roman opens the door and steps inside, and Christ, does he look upset. You’re a little taken aback by this; you sort of expected him to be in good spirits, high off the power trip of firing a crucial member of the Waystar machine. In true Roman fashion, he forgoes the chair in front of your desk and sits on the small table across the room, swinging his legs lightly back and forth. “Ken told me where you were holed up,” he explains. His tone is casual enough, but he looks nauseous. “What the hell are you doing in this weird little shitty office anyways?”
You laugh a little, shutting your laptop and folding your hands across the desk. “It’s a pretty normal office, Roman,” you reply, “and it’s one of the furthest points in the building from where your brother’s set up shop. I was working near him for like an hour, but all I could hear was blocking and dialogue planning and set designing…” Roman rolls his eyes, and you grin. “It was like sitting backstage at a community theater rehearsal.”
Roman laughs shortly at that. “Ew. That sounds horrific.”
“Yeah, it was.” Your voice trails off, and the two of you fall into silence. Your eyes are fixed on Roman, but his are bouncing all over the place—from you, to the corner of the room, to his hands that he’s been wringing nonstop since he walked through the door. He’s obviously thinking about the monumental fucking mistake he made earlier, and you certainly are too. “…So. Joy Palmer, huh?”
His demeanor changes instantly, and he snaps his head back like he’s been poised to move this whole time, just waiting for you to bring her up. “Yeah, that was—it’s sad,” he says loudly, uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s not cool. But really, it was necessary. She’s not a good fit with what Kendall and I—what we’re trying to do.”
“Huh.” You lean forward a little, ducking your head so he can’t see the scowl that flashes across your face. “…Not a good fit. Okay.” She has everything, really: experience, connections, a willingness to produce shitty movies just to make Waystar more money. Sure, she had been a little shaky recently about Waystar’s politics, but that issue could’ve easily been resolved with a bit more money offered in the right way. But that’s all thrown out the window now, and you hope Roman realizes how bad that is.
You’re not sure he does, so you emphasize it. “I mean, I’ve been kind of working her for the past few months,” you offer, looking up to meet Roman’s gaze. “I know her big issue is dealing with the political side of ATN, which I mean—sure, no one wants to work with the Jeryd Mencken Fan Club. But…in the last week I was actually making some progress with her. There was potential there—“
”There was potential?” You freeze when Roman interrupts you; his voice is low but his tone is venomous. “Okay…” He sucks in air sharply through his gritted teeth, and he glues his gaze to the floor. “I guess—I guess I’m just wondering, what fucking good is potential when she’s sitting there complaining to me across the table about this thing that you’ve apparently worked out already?”
You bite your bottom lip hard and breathe deeply through your nose. “…I don’t know, Roman. So you fire her? That’s the move? You fire her so that we have to get someone else who has less connections, less experience, who is fucking lesser in every way—just because you got mad?”
“Oh my God,” he breathes, jerkily running a hand through his hair, “fuck off. Why are you doing this?” You frown; did he think you were just going to let him off the hook? Congratulate him on his first big independent move as CEO? But then his head sinks into his open palms, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, and you realize suddenly that that is exactly what he’d expected. Or hoped for. He’s still for just long enough that you get nervous; when you’re about to ask him if he’s alright, though, he raises his head and locks eyes with you.
Your phone dings, and you break eye contact to quickly check the notification. It’s one of your writers; she’s sent you a text about the Joy news, and by the tone of her message, she’s extremely freaked out. When you look back to Roman, he’s still staring at you with that same angry disappointment—disappointment that you won’t just lay down and tell him he did the right thing. “Listen, Roman,” you begin, holding his gaze, “it’s my job too. I mean you’re the new CEO, you’re fuckin’ stretching your legs—good for you. But if we lose the movie side of our operation for a while because of this… That’s abysmal for me.”
His eyes widen a little, and you’re shocked to see, for just a second, an apology forming at his lips—but before he can finish mouthing “sorry” he stops, pressing his mouth into a hard line. He stares down with furrowed eyebrows at his hands, lightly clasped together in his lap, and he’s silent for a long time. As you watch him, he takes a deep, labored breath. “Well, in that case…” He’s barely audible. “Why don’t I just fire you too? Since you failed to convince a chief executive to stick with the company and tanked your department.”
The shocked grin that pops onto your face is completely involuntary, and you breathe an exasperated, “Oh my God.” You turn away and shake your head, taking a steady breath. What the fuck’s gotten into him? You’ve already seen that he’s not afraid to make horrific business decisions; firing you would come as easily to him as breathing right now. But you’re not going to beg Roman Roy, your only friend in this morally bankrupt circus, for your job. You refuse to. So, you fold your hands across your desk, and you reply as evenly as you can. “Technically, Roman, you don’t fire me. Tom Wambsgans does.”
He raises his eyebrows, and you can practically hear the “um, actually” before he even opens his mouth. “Yeah, I know,” you continue, smiling ruefully, “you can just fire Tom, and fucking—eat him alive and become him, and then… You can do whatever you want with me, right?” This has almost become amusing; you feel a weird compulsion to laugh.
That feeling vanishes when you see the look on Roman’s face. It’s like you flipped a switch; his gaze instantly disconnects from yours and he looks straight down like he’s trying to stare a hole through his shoe. You frown a little as you peer over at him, trying to figure out what the hell he’s thinking, when you fully realize what you just said. It’s an invitation, a statement more intimate than anything you’ve ever said to each other before, and he knows it. Roman slowly stands up from his seat and you watch him, look closely at the expression on his face—and the darkness in his eyes confirms your thoughts. It’s not like you’ve never thought about him in that way; frankly, he’s the only human connection you’ve made since you started at Waystar. You’ve often wondered (or perhaps hoped) if he was ever going to make a move on you, and a long time ago, you decided that if he ever did, you’d reciprocate it. You’re going to do just that. He wants a win, and you want him—everyone gets what they need.
He takes a few measured steps towards you and you feel yourself lean just a bit closer to him; just as you’re about to stand, he bends down, snakes his arms around your waist, and practically yanks you up to meet him. With a forcefulness that you’ve never, ever seen him display, he kisses you, disregarding gentleness and letting everything run on pure, unfiltered instinct. Your hands quickly find him, and you place one firmly against his cheek while the other slides through his hair. He holds on for a bit longer, trying to put as much as possible into that first, fantastic kiss, and then he has to pull away.
As you part, both reeling, he whispers, “Say that again.” When you don’t respond—you’re still catching your breath—he mumbles, “Please. Please say it.”
You’re more than happy to oblige him, and you stare right into his dark eyes as you speak. “You can do whatever you want with me, Roman.” Your words coax a full body shudder from him, and his lips are right back on yours, hands running over every part of your body they can access. His fingers skirt under the hem of your shirt and there’s a loud fucking knock at the door—and you both freeze exactly where you are.
It’s Kendall. Great. “Hey Rome, I saw you come in here, buddy. Uh—we’re, uh, crunching some big ass numbers out here, and I would love to have your eyes on these maximizations to the user-facing stock plane.”
“What the fuck does that mean…?” you breathe, and a short, high-pitched laugh escapes Roman.
As you both try to suppress your laughter beneath wide grins, Kendall calls, “What was that, bro?”
Roman quickly clears his throat. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec, Ken.”
“Cool. Fantastic.” And you and Roman both stand there, listening to his footsteps as they grow fainter and more distant.
The rush of the moment has faded severely, and even though you acknowledge how fucking amazing that felt and would like nothing more than to continue, you know it’s not the most practical thing to do. “…You should probably head out there, right? Make sure he doesn’t just start making up figures?”
Roman snorts as he untangles himself from you. “Yeah, he would do that, wouldn’t he?” He stands before you, looking wonderfully disheveled, and you reach out to fix his collar and smooth his hair.
He practically melts under your touch as you comb through his hair with your fingers. You half expect him to kiss you again, but it seems the tension was sucked out of the room by Kendall and his corporate bullshit speak. You wish he would kiss you again. After one last sweep of his hair, you propel yourself forward and kiss him gently, sweetly; he kisses back, but he makes no attempt to move closer to you, so you take a step forward and close the gap.
“…I’m fucking this up,” he mutters, quiet and dejected, after you part. “I’m doing it all wrong and I’m being stupid.”
He’s not necessarily wrong; you try to ignore that thought as he turns and walks to the door. “Just take care of your brother,” you say with a little smile, and he gives a muted grin and a thumbs up back.
He’s so bad at this and he’s so sad. You sit back down and crack open your laptop, and within seconds about thirty emails flood into your inbox—it’s Joy’s legal team, just like she promised. You groan, and lean back, and try to get your mind off the feeling of Roman’s lips on yours so you can draft a decent apology.
#roman roy x reader#roman roy imagines#roman roy imagine#succession x reader#succession imagine#my writing
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Roman Roy (Succession) x Reader Headcanons Part Two
Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Reader
Word count: 2.3k (warnings: mention of Logany child abuse)
Author’s Note: Roman Roy, when did you make such a permanent camp in my little heart? Thank you for all the messages and comments asking for part two of these headcanons! Part one of these headcanons are here, they were initially written as age gap headcanons but I think these could be enjoyed with any (adult) reader's age in mind at this point :) Also please continue to fill my inbox with Kendall and Roman requests because I am thinking about little else! 😊
- When your friends ask exactly what's going on between you and Roman it's not easy to answer. Deep down you know that there isn't anyone he feel closer to, Roman opting to spend as much of his time hassling you as possible, but he doesn't exactly articulate what he's feeling, leaving you to piece together the clues in his behaviour to work out just what you mean to him.
- Like the first time you ever saw him scared; you were both stood leaning against the back wall of the bullpen while Logan set up a makeshift stage to rally the troops and reassure them that despite the recent headlines 'he wasn't fucking going anywhere.' Roman had been his usual sarcastic joking self as the speech kicked off, happy for a reason to have you huddled next to him, unable to draw his gaze from your face, awestruck by your beauty even in the office's hard fluorescent lighting, and then Logan raised his voice. His shouts of 'killing the competition' and 'annihilating anyone in their way' immediately turned Roman from a charming, blasé professional to a scared little boy, stood frozen to attention lest he do something to piss off his father. You watch as his eyes all but clenched shut at the chorus of shouts, his jaw tensing to the point we were sure you could see his muscles trembling. Conscious of the crowd around you, you scooted one small step to the side, edging closer to Roman until with a gentle lean your right shoulder delicately met his left. You stilled as you gaged his reaction, not wanting to push a man who already had a habit of retreating away from any affection shone his way. But after a few seconds you watched his eyes blink open, his lips parting to let out a trembling sigh as he leaned his weight slightly into you, your brushing shoulders the anchor he needed in the storm of his father's tirade. Even after Logan's speech had ended and the crowd dispersed, he seemed reluctant to part himself from the warmth of the corner you shared, promising to come find you later 'just in case the Roy's hadn't wasted enough of your time today.'
- The supportive instincts you felt towards Roman as you grew close were not unreciprocated, the usually isolated man being surprised by his own protective streak as it emerged. It would come across in small ways at first, Roman keeping an eye out for who spoke to you at parties and inserting himself in the middle of conversations if he thought someone was getting a bit too friendly. He'd hold a door open to guide you through, putting his hand on your lower back as you moved past him only to feel his entire body jolt with electricity at the slightest bit of contact with your skin.
- One morning he'd be perched on the edge of your desk, where he found himself more and more these days, the hours he spent away from your company dragging until you were together again, like his life had been spent entirely in the shadows but suddenly he had the sun all to himself in you. As you let him fill you in about the latest drama from the top floor, the deafening shriek of the fire alarm blared down on you, making you flinch with its uncomfortable volume. Before you could move out of your seat, you felt the warm hands of Roman Roy settle either side of your face, protecting your ears as he tried to mouth 'It's just a test' over the echoing rings. As his hands rested against your cheeks they didn't tremble or twitch like he usually did around you, they were soft and safe, comforting you while blocking out the noise, Roman pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he felt touching you like this, your soft, rosy cheeks warm under his touch. It took him a few adoring seconds too long to realise the alarm had stopped and now you were just staring at him with a soft smile that had his stomach turning in a way he didn't quite recognise, but wouldn't mind feeling again.
- Reading between the lines is an essential skill when it comes to being close friends with Roman, his childhood of ridicule and discipline making him wary of opening himself up and asking for what he wants. You find him waiting for you in the Reception of Waystar one morning, practically launching himself out of his seat once you step through the large glass doors.
"Jesus don't you ever take a day off? Like, just fucking play hookie sometimes?" First thing in the morning you feel like you've joined a conversation that's been happening without you for an hour, trying to get catch up,
"Uhh, I guess I usually take the holidays off, and my birthday. Why? Should I be playing hookie on some random Thursday in April?" You watch his expression closely, recognising the familiar action of his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the perfect nonchalant way to ask for something, his voice quiet when he speaks again as if he's already hurt his own feelings before you get the chance.
"Fuck you, this random Thursday happens to be my birthday." He feigns looking hurt that you didn't already have this marked in your diary, but you can see what Roman needs and just how badly he needs you to be the one to suggest it.
"Today's your birthday? Happy Birthday Roman! You should definitely take today off! And I should play hookie with you! Come on, let's get out of here." You dial the enthusiasm up to 100 and drag him from the building before he can attempt to make an unconvincing argument that that's not why he mentioned it, grateful that your gentle grip in his hand seems to have momentarily rendered him speechless.
- You spend the rest of the day sat in a local park in the sun, having takeout delivered for lunch, including the best cake your delivery app can make happen at such short notice, watching Roman protest as you tell him to make a wish and blow out the candle, the ever-cynical man telling you that his wish was for 'world peace', so it was guaranteed it wouldn't happen now that you knew.
- The next day when Roman trudged up to his COO office, still internally walking on air after the best birthday he could ever remember. There he found a haphazardly wrapped gift, the first he could ever remember receiving that didn't look like a department store display piece. Inside was a home-baked treat from you, and a planet earth jigsaw with a note that said that his wish of 'World Pieces' had come true. Roman kept that note in the top drawer of his desk whenever he needed to smile, hoping the wish he actually made would come true as well.
- When the nights of family functions grew particularly exhausting, and you had stopped being in Logan's focus enough to merit an invitation, sometimes Roman would find himself torn by indecision of whether or not to try and find you once he escaped the gala in question. Eventually after a few missed late night calls, and an embarrassed cold shoulder from him the next day, you showed him how to just add your phone's location to his 'in case of a work emergency', watching the warm smile flush across his cheeks at how comforted he felt in the knowledge that even when you weren't together, he'd know just how far apart you are.
- It wouldn't be long until one Friday night you'd be at a bar with your friends, probably still trying to collectively decipher what to call you and Roman, having never known anyone quite like him, and suddenly you'd see him slink through the door. He'd look so out of place and uncomfortable in a dive bar without you by his side, increasingly self conscious as each of your friends turn to face him, a knowing giggle spreading round the table as they witnessed the latest event in your bizarre relationship. Roman stood frozen in the doorway as he weighed up what to do, having never thought further than just needing to be wherever you are after a long night of being his father's whipping boy, desperate to be somewhere he felt safe and understood. Recognising the despondent look on his face from reacting to his father's raised voice, you said your goodbyes and collected your things, running over to Roman before he could dash out the door and pretend he hadn't come all this way just to see you.
"I was just about to head home, do you want to make sure I get home safe?" You offered, ignoring the elephant in the dimly lit room of why he was there, a visible wave of relief washing over Roman as he nodded and took your hand,
"Yeah, I'd like that. I have a car outside."
- Roman was clearly on the edge of saying something on the ride back to your place, his lips twitching nervously as if every word that tried to escape them would ruin everything you two had precariously built. It wasn't until he was safely in your home that you perched on the edge of your counter, bringing you to eye level with the fidgeting shape in front of you, that you tried to open the can of worms.
"Is everything okay Roman?" You spoke softly enough that Roman had to stop his pacing and settle into the spot in front of you to reply, letting his torso almost meet your legs where they dangled off the kitchen island.
"All good honey, just all fucking good." He ran his fingers through his slicked back hair as the words felt like acid rising in his throat, even the slightest pet name stirring up every nerve inside of him as he continued, "Speaking of good - we've got a good thing here right?" He gestured between the two of you as he spoke, his hand almost landing on your thigh but never quite braving the landing. His eyes darted up to your confused expression from where they rested, looking down at his shoes like if he didn't see the disgust and judgement on your face then it wasn't there.
You tried to respond kindly, thoughtfully, unsure of exactly how to define the thing between you and even less certain of how Roman saw it,
"Yeah, it's good Roman. We're close." Roman nodded, satisfied enough with the response to continue, desperately trying to ignore the vicious voice of mockery running through his own head, usually echoing his father's words.
"Exactly! We're close...so if I were to call you my girlfriend? That'd be normal right? Like even though we don't..." He trailed off as if he couldn't face addressing his own deviant thoughts or the mental block that stood between him and physical intimacy. His heart hammered in his chest as you considered his words and your own feelings carefully, before gently taking his hand in yours. You let your knees drift apart just enough for Roman to stand between them, encouraging him to take a step forward so your faces were barely an inch or two apart.
"Yeah, I could call you my boyfriend." You tried to deliver the words in the same relaxed tone that the question was asked in, and the walls Roman kept his heart behind betrayed him as a sincere smile flashed across his face at your sweet sentence. He nodded again, his breathing seeming to settle at the agreement, more relaxed now that he knew that these feelings weren't one-sided, that despite being unorthodox this relationship still meant to you what he needed it to.
As the warmth of the moment ran like brandy through his veins he let his eyes drift up to yours, warm and happy, and then to your lips. Roman had never really found himself craving someone's kiss before, but he'd also never felt anything like this, and somehow he knew this time would feel different. Slowly, timidly, like at the back of his mind he still might get a smack across the face at any moment for his behaviour, he leant forward until his lips met yours, barely letting them taste the soft, sweet reception you gave him before drawing back. He took a deep breath and leaned in again, letting himself savour the moment a little longer this time, feeling the corners of his lips tilt up as you kissed him back, the slight pressure against his lips sending his head spinning. His hand found your cheek, somehow even softer than he remembered as he leant his chest forward against yours, his lips parting to capture yours again, needier and hungry to taste more of you, finally understanding why people would write songs and books and films about this feeling, the insatiable need to feel you on his lips sure to plague his thoughts forevermore. You let one hand settle on this back of his neck, thumb stroking softly over the tense muscles there as he forced himself to pull away to breathe, manic hyena laugh echoing through your home as pure exuberance burst out of him that he was finally feeling like this, and with someone as kind and as perfect as you. Quietly you heard him mumble under his breath, "That was actually pretty nice." Which only made you both laugh more, the novelty of finally crossing the line from friends to more, and the ecstatic joy of finding the person you were hoping for, waiting on the other side of that line too.
#writing#fanfiction#one shot#requests#succession hbo#roman roy fluff#roman roy angst#roman roy imagine#roman roy x reader#roman roy#roman roy succession#roman roy headcanons#succession imagine#succession#succession headcanons
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my name is lauren i like music and jokes. logan roy voice fuck off ‼️
https://archangelthunderbird.tumblr.com/
https://www.last.fm/user/ariacoolbro
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Glass
Siobhan Roy x Reader
Prompt: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”
thank you @honeybeawhore for requesting I love youuuu and I’m sorry it took me so long I promise I’m back on that grind now 😭
aahh we’re at 200 followers!! I’m so thankful for every single one of you, you all get forehead kisses and a hug!!! thank you for being the sweetest most supportive consumers of my work, it genuinely means the world to me that you’re all here. youre all always welcome on my blog, in my pms, and in my ask box!!! I love you all!!! happy reading, I hope you all stick around 🫶🏽
Word Count: 2.059k
Absentmindedly, you crack your knuckles, one by one. You know it’s bad for you, but you can’t help it. You’re just so damn anxious.
Shiv’s heels click on the marble flooring of her father’s townhouse. She’d recently gotten into an argument with her father, which meant by proxy, you were pulled into it. You don’t even know what half of it means, you just know it’s nasty.
There’d been only some raising of voices, no yelling. Not yet, anyway. That’s what tonight is for, you guess.
You don’t really want to be here, but your job, in your eyes, is to support Shiv. And if she needs you with her tonight, she needs you with her tonight. You aren’t going to let her do this alone. You’ll never let her do anything alone. She’s the love of your life, your the love of hers.
“God, he can’t fucking show up to dinner at his own house on time?” she asks quietly, the continuous click clack click clacking of her heels strangely soothing, the noises echoing off of the high ceilings.
“Come on, Shiv, sit down. Take a breath,” you say softly, scooting over on the sofa. She doesn’t respond, but sits herself down next to you anyway. She sits close enough to you that your hips are touching, her body leaning into yours. You kiss her cheek in an attempt to soothe her. “I’m here with you. Don’t worry.”
She kisses the side of your temple in return, her body a bit less tense. “What would I do without you?” she asks, her breath temporarily warming your skin before slipping away into the air.
“I don’t know. Die?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
The two of you stay like that, pressed flush against each other, until you hear Marcia’s voice from up the hall.
“Oh, my goodness, we are so sorry…” She smooths her hair down as she enters the room. “Your father is ready for you, Siobhan. I apologize that we are so late.”
Your girlfriend makes a subtle face at you before getting to her feet. You take her hand, following her, and her fingers lace comfortably with yours. “So, you’re changing up the place?” Shiv asks, eyes snagging on a tapestry hanging off of the wall. Paintings litter the floors, as well as cardboard boxes, buckets of paint, and several other sorts of decoration.
“Ah, yes. Out with the old, in with the new, as they say,” Marcia responds. “I quite adore art from the Renaissance.”
You and Shiv say nothing the rest of the way to the dining room. Even after you murmur terse hellos to her father, you’re gripping each other’s hands. She doesn’t really eat anything- she just picks at her food, to your dismay. You try coaxing a few spoonfuls into her mouth, nudging her every so often to eat. She only takes a few bites, staring down into her plate. You can practically see her thoughts bouncing around in her head.
She’s stressing over something, you just don’t know what. And it’s killing you.
“So, Siobhan. How’s the current campaign going?” Logan asks, voice devoid of any emotion.
“Fine, Dad,” she says back stiffly. “I’m not dropping Eavis for you. We’ve been over this.”
The clattering of silverware is all you hear until dinner ends. “Well, Siobhan, time for us to go speak? Hash this out?” Marcia, as if on cue, gets up and silently leaves the room. Logan throws you a passive glance.
“No. She’s sitting in.” Shiv gets to her feet, bracing her hand on her shoulder to help her get up. There’s a minuscule tremor in her gait, and now you’re worried. “Come. You’re coming with us.”
You quickly get up, following her and her father into his home office.
“I don’t see what professional input she could have,” Logan intones, dropping himself unceremoniously into his leather chair. “But I don’t see why not.” There’s already a whiskey glass on his desk, and he turns to choose a bottle of something from the shelves behind him. He pours, his attention entirely on the amber liquid filling his glass. He fills it all the way to the rim.
“I don’t think you should be drinking, Dad,” Shiv says quietly. “You just got out of the hospital. You shouldn’t be stressing your liver.”
“Tch, don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” he quips back, voice suddenly gruff and harsh. Shiv doesn’t even flinch. He knocks back a few gulps, his daughter eyeing him cautiously. “Get on with it, then. Why have we all gathered for her Royal Highness?”
She presses her lips together into a thin line. “Because, Dad, I’m done with Waystar. I’m done fucking around. Are you going to give me the company, or not? Or did you only ever say those things just to get me to work for you?”
“You’ll get briefed when you get briefed, Pinky. Kendall and Roman just have some business to sort through before we let you in to everything.” Another sip.
“Okay, but you say that every time. Kendall and Roman are always doing something. There’s always business that you refuse to clue me in on. So clue me in. Just tell me what they’re doing, whatever it is that’s holding you back so much.”
“It’s nothing that concerns you.” His glass is halfway empty now.
“How does it not concern me when I’m supposed to run the company?” She laughs incredulously. “If you want me working for Waystar, just say so. You don’t have to lie and bait me like I’m a fucking fish.”
“I think that’s enough talking for the night,” he murmurs, tone laced with warning. He downs the rest of his glass, not bothering to look up.
“So I’m right? God, Dad, I thought you were fucking trying for once-”
“Siobhan, enough,” he says, louder, but she pushes on.
“-and I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d DO something for once, you’d help ME out-”
“Siobhan…” His fingers tighten around his whiskey glass, red seeping onto his face. You should intervene, you should say something, but you can’t, there’s no time, there’s no space.
“-but no. It’s all about Kendall, it’s all about Roman. You don’t think of anybody but yourself-”
“ENOUGH!” he shouts suddenly, smashing his glass down onto his desk. Glass goes flying in every direction, and you were stupid enough to sit in the cushioned seat pressed right up against his desk. A shard soars right into the skin of your cheek, digging into you. A smattering of glass clatters to the floor at your feet, some sprinkling into your lap. Your hands fly to the wound, and you stagger out of your seat. Shiv’s immediately at your side, her arms coming around you. She pulls you protectively to her side, face contorted in anger.
“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?” she yells back. They aren’t tiptoeing around things anymore. You think your ear drums are going to burst.
“Siobhan, you are a danger to our family. To the company! I cannot let you gallivant around D.C., bestowing political power on whoever you see fit. You’re fucking me, and I’ve had enough!” He punctuates his last three words with a fist slammed onto his desk at each one.
“So I was right! You’re being fucking ridiculous!” She tugs you behind her, shielding you with her. The glass embedded in your face is beginning to throb. You don’t know how you got here. “Do you not fucking think? Even if that entire thing was real, I wouldn’t do it. I’m not taking that stupid fucking job- or any job you offer me. Enough is enough,” she spits out, throwing the words back into his face. “Don’t expect me back. Don’t ask me for anything, don’t text me, call me, don’t ever look at me again.”
Shiv ushers you out of the office, Logan’s obscenities barely following you out into the hall. You want to say anything, but you can’t. When you open your mouth, nothing comes out. All you can think about is the numbing of your face. She pulls you into the bathroom and locks the door behind you both. She retrieves a hand towel from under she sink and sits you down on the lidded toilet. She slides into your lap, cupping your jaw with one hand. Every movement is careful, affectionate, loving.
“Fuck, baby, how’d this even happen?” she asks under her breath. She plucks the glass away from your skin, making a face at the gush of blood the movement elicits. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have come.” You wince as the drags a cool, wet cloth over the wound, the pressure making you a bit dizzy. The beginnings of a whimper fight their way out of your throat despite your efforts to hold them back. “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.” She peppers kisses over your face, trying to chase the dazed look off of your face.
“I’m the one who should be saying sorry,” you mutter, earning a pause in kisses and dirty look from her. “I could’ve at least said something. I should’ve.”
“No. Absolutely not. My father is my responsibility,” she tells you. “Besides, I don’t want you hurt. It could’ve been worse. I’m so glad it isn’t.”
From the things she’s told you, you know she’s right. You can only imagine what her childhood was like. You just want to whisk her away and keep her all to yourself, safe in sound, snuggled up against you in bed.
“Can we go home?” you ask meekly, a bit embarrassed. The glass hadn’t cut deep- the initial shock and adrenaline made it hurt and feel worse than it actually is. You wipe absently at the gash. Only a little blood comes back on your hand.
“God, I’m sorry. Let’s go.” She slides off of your lap, taking your hand as she opens the door. The two of you hurry from the townhouse before anyone can notice. Shiv grips at your hand tightly. You know the conversation still isn’t sitting well; hell, how could you blame her?
“I’m sorry it has to be that way,” you say quietly, the soft droning of the car engine comforting you.
She heaves a sigh, keeping her eyes trained on the road. “Yeah. Me too.”
Once you’re home, and the front door’s shut, you pull her into a tight hug. “I’m being serious, Siobhan,” you murmur when you pull away. “If I can do something to help, I want to help. We can move away. We can go live in D.C. like you’ve wanted to.”
Her hands come to your face, cupping, taking your jaw. Her thumbs move up and down, up and down, up and down. “That won’t fix the issue,” she admits, “but it sounds nice.”
“What’s the issue? I want to fix it,” you say, trying to be persuasive. You do want to help, you really do.
“You’re sweet,” she says softly, eyes wrinkling with affection. “It’s just no matter how badly I want my dad to, you know, be my dad, he just won’t.”
“I know I can’t ever fill in that void,” you reply, interrupting yourself by planting a quick kiss on her lips, “but I’ll always be here for you. Now and forever in the future.”
“And me for you. I’m so grateful I have you,” she says, her voice cracking with emotion. You turn your head enough for you to be able to press a kiss to her palm. “And just so you know, I’m never letting Dad near you again. God, I can’t believe it. What if the glass had been bigger? What if he’d thrown it?”
“He didn’t, so we don’t need to think about it.” You tuck a bit of her hair back behind her ear. “How about we just watch a movie? Forget about everything?”
She kisses you. “I’ll get the Klondike bars.”
You’ve never been happier: her thighs flush against yours, her head tucked under yours, your arm hooked around her waist. You palm the plush of her thighs, delirious on your love for her.
You’d both changed into pajamas, your shoulders now bare. She shifts so that her cheek is pressed to your shoulder, and over the course of the night, her lips press absentmindedly to your skin. Over, and over, and over.
#shiv roy#siobhan roy#shiv roy x reader#shiv roy x you#siobhan roy x reader#siobhan roy x you#succession#succession hbo#succession fic#succession x reader#wambsgansshoelaces#requests open#shiv roy oneshot#siobhan roy oneshot
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Just Words
[Siobhan Roy x GN!Reader]
Synopsis: Words can be hurtful (especially to most) but with Siobhan’s “5-star” personality and ability to not care about anything other than herself, you can’t help BUT spill some words. {GIF Creds: @olliviacooke// I took this off of google (fair warning) so I had to dig deep to find the OP}
WC: 2274
Category: Slight Fluff (?), Enemies to… trope {Trigger Warning: Foul Language (I really channeled the Roy family here), Logan}
I did not expect my first succession fic to be Siobhan… but honestly, I’m not complaining 👀 (fyi: this was a request and I stupidly forgot to “answer” so hopefully the anon who requested lovely Shiv finds this 💀)
『••✎••』
Siobhan Roy… mega bitch. You hated her. Well, that might be an understatement; you despised her. From the moment you met her, she was just a total and complete pain in your ass. Not to mention completely and utterly self-absorbed. She had the attitude and ego of a child.
So when you were made to work with her, you were less than pleased. Logan Roy, the only man who could top Siobhan in terms of being an insufferable asshole, had made you a deal. If you and Siobhan worked together to find a solution to the media shitstorm he was currently experiencing, he would put you on the team that handled the IPO of Waystar. It was the opportunity you had been waiting for, so you sucked it up and agreed.
You and Siobhan sat in the meeting, both of you looking like a pair of miserable children. It made Roman look like a ray of sunshine, and that was really saying something.
Logan slammed the door, causing you to flinch.
"Fuck," he said, taking his seat.
"What?" asked Siobhan, a tinge of irritation in her voice. It’s amazing how her mood could shift on a dime.
"Nothing. I'm just a bit tired of this fucking circus."
"Well, what the fuck do you expect? You made a public promise. If you can't make good on it, why not just say so? Why continue this fucking farce?"
Logan narrowed his eyes at her.
"If I wanted to hear that, Siobhan, I would have gone to my wife's bed. I don't need a cunt in my ear right now."
Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'm a realist. You're the one who wants to live in your fantasy world. Just fucking drop the bomb, tell the truth, and let's move on."
"The truth? And what is the truth? That my son’s a psychotic, drug-addled mess? That Kendall is a sniveling, entitled little fuck? A pathetic, whiny, little shit stain who can't do his job because he's too busy jerking himself off to his own sob story? Is that the truth you want to set free?"
Siobhan stared him down, and once again, you were surprised. You had thought the woman was completely brazen, but there were still limits.
"I'm not your therapist," she said.
"No. You're not. And I'm not going to sit here and listen to a woman with the emotional range of a fucking teaspoon telling me how to handle this situation. Now, I need to get on the phone with my PR team. Fuck off, all of you. Get back to work."
You and Roman both jumped up, quickly leaving the room. Once you were safely away from Logan, you took a deep breath and relaxed a bit.
"Jesus fucking Christ," you muttered, "I don't know how she does it."
Roman smirked, "Oh, she's a special snowflake—a real ball buster. You should see her with Tom. It's a fucking bloodbath."
“Tell me about it. It’s a raging dumpster fire, even saying more than two words to her. I feel like she's going to snap my head off any minute. I’m so tired of her bullshit, and she's the least of my worries. The whole family is a fucking disaster. And I don't have time for any of it…. No offense.”
Roman gave you a half smile. "None taken. You're right; I'm the best of a very bad lot."
"Well, at least you're self-aware."
“You fuckers talking shit about me behind my back?"
You turned and saw Shiv leaning against the wall.
"Always," replied Roman. "And it's fucking hilarious."
"Well, don't let me stop you," she said, rolling her eyes. Her eyes then shifted to you.
"I didn't realize we were having a fucking slumber party."
"Just having a bit of a break," you said.
"Oh, well, that's very fucking nice. I'm glad everyone is taking a fucking break because I've been dealing with our father, who is a raging psycho at the moment. You know, while the rest of you are fucking around, the company is dying. It's falling apart, and everyone is too fucking busy to give a shit."
"Come on, Shivvy. Take a breather. You’re starting to act like Kendall… and that's never a good look," said Roman.
"Fuck off, Ro.”
Shiv glared at him, then glanced back at you. The glare made you want to hide, but you refused to show fear in front of her. You had done it in the past, and it only fed her.
"Well," she said, "aren't you going to say anything? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open like an idiot?"
"I think I'll take option B. I'd like to live through this," you replied.
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"I think it's pretty clear."
"Yeah, I suppose it is. I guess I shouldn't expect someone like you to understand."
"Someone like me?"
“Shiv,” warned Roman, trying to interject. Personally, despite his whacked-out sense of humor, you actually enjoyed his company. He was definitely the least obnoxious of the Roy siblings. “Let’s not get into this now, okay? Just drop it."
"No. No, go ahead, Shiv. Let's have it out. Right here, right now. Let's see if you can handle it."
Shiv stared at you for a few moments, then she smiled. It wasn’t her usual smug, condescending grin. It was different, almost sincere.
"You think you're tough?" she asked.
"No. I know I am. It's a little different, don't you think?"
"Okay," she replied, her eyes darkening. She leaned forward, her face just inches from yours. Roman just looked at the two of you as if watching a tennis match. "You're so sure you can handle me. So why don't you prove it?"
"Prove it? Like, what, punch you in the face? Is that what you want?"
"Although, as satisfying as that sounds, I was thinking we all should just move on… maybe have a drink, talk it over? Yeah? No?”
Shiv just looked at you. "Yeah, I'll pass. I'm not here to make friends, and I'm certainly not here to kiss your ass."
"That's good. Because, honestly, I don't see you as the ass-kissing type. Tom, yes. You? Not a chance. You're the type who wants everything to be handed to you on a silver platter. I'm sorry, but I'm not the maid. I'm not going to serve you or kiss your ass. I'm here because I have a job to do, and I intend to do it. That's it.”
"Oh, right. I see. Well, then, why don't we cut the bullshit and just get right to it. How about you go back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and let the real people get on with things."
“Guys-” Roman started.
"Real people? Real people? You think you're real? You think this is real? I hate to break it to you, Siobhan, but you're not a princess, and this isn't a fairy tale. You're not the queen. Your father isn't the king. You're a spoiled brat, and he's… well, he’s Logan. He's not even a king. He's just a bully."
"Is that supposed to hurt me? To insult me?"
"No, but you seem like the kind of person who doesn't take criticism well. You’re doing a terrible job.”
Shiv stared at you, her lip curled up in disgust. She looked as if she were about to hit you, but the rage was just a facade.
"Well," she finally said, "It's a good thing we're not here to play fucking games, then. So why don't you shut the fuck up and get back to work? Unless, of course, you don't think you can handle it. Maybe you should just go back to where you came from, and let the real people get on with things."
Your nostrils flared. It took every ounce of strength in you not to smack the look off her face. But you knew better. If you started a fight, Logan would take your head off, and that was a fight you couldn't win. So, instead, you smiled.
"Fine," you said. "If that's what you want. I'll do my job, and you do yours. But, just remember, the day is coming when this little charade is going to come to an end, and when it does, it's going to be a lot worse than it is right now."
You didn't wait for her reply. Instead, you turned and walked away, leaving the two of them standing in the hallway.
Once you were back in the safety of your office, you collapsed into your chair and let out a sigh. You had just gotten your first taste of a Roy fight, and it was worse than you had anticipated. The worst part was Siobhan had gotten the last word. It didn't matter that you might’ve won. She had gotten the last good word, and you hated her for it.
As the hours ticked by, you became more and more frustrated. You were angry and bitter. You were pissed at yourself for letting Shiv get under your skin, and you were angry at her for getting to you.
So, when your phone rang and you saw her name, you were tempted to ignore it. You let it ring for a few seconds, then decided to answer.
"Yes?” Your attitude was short.
"Get your shit together," she snapped. “We have a meeting in five minutes. We have a lot of ground to cover."
That was, in fact, false. By the time you arrived, the conference room was deserted, and only Shiv remained. She was sitting at the table, her laptop open in front of her.
"What the hell?" you demanded.
"I'm sorry. Did you want a fucking audience? Because that can be arranged. But, if you don't mind, I would prefer not to have any interruptions."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that we are both here, and we have a job to do. Now, either sit down and help me, or fuck off. I really don't give a shit."
You stared at her, and she looked up from her laptop, raising an eyebrow. There was no audience, and there wasn’t going to be one. So, you had two options. Either walk away and look like an idiot, or stay and possibly get chewed out again. You took a deep breath and sat down.
Shiv just hummed in response, then looked back at her screen. "Good choice."
For the next couple of hours, the two of you worked together, trying to figure out a way to turn the situation around. Arguments arose, shots were fired, and at one point, Shiv threatened to kick you out, but overall, it was a productive session. Logan wouldn’t be pissed, so that was a win.
"So," Shiv said as the two of you left the building, "Did you cool down?"
"What?"
"I'm asking if you cooled down. Do you feel better now?"
"Um, yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I? You know, besides the fact that we were at each other's throats for hours and the fact that we both wanted to kill each other. I'm peachy."
"Mm, peachy." She said the word like it was an insult. "That's a strange choice of words, don't you think?”
“What? The real people don’t use the word peachy, huh? Is it beneath you, Shiv? Do you only use fancy words and proper grammar?"
"Oh, I can be a real commoner when the situation calls for it. It's all about knowing your audience."
"Really? So, is this the commoner Shiv? Should I expect a new side of you?"
"Maybe.” She smiled oddly again. The one that made you nervous. "Maybe not. That depends on you. Do you want to know the real me?"
"No, not particularly."
"Good. Because I'm not interested in showing you. I’m just curious if you have what it takes."
"To what, put up with your bullshit? To put up with a spoiled brat who thinks the world is hers for the taking? Mmm, yeah, I think I've got what it takes."
"Okay, first off, fuck you. Second, you're a piece of shit. Third, I have something to tell you. So, listen up. This is important. Okay, ready?"
You were about to say something, but her expression stopped you. Her voice was low, her tone serious. You nodded.
"I'm a bitch. And, yeah, I have a temper, and I'm not a warm and fuzzy kind of girl. But, that's the thing, I don't need to be. I don't need to pretend that I'm anything other than who I am. I don't have to fake it because I know what I want, and I'm not afraid to go after it. That’s what you need to understand. It's not about what you think you need. It's about what you want and what you're willing to do to get it."
You just stared at her, unsure of what to say.
"So, let me ask you, what do you want? And are you willing to do what it takes to get it?"
You thought about it for a second. "I want a drink. A strong one."
A little comedy never hurt anyone. And judging by her expression, you could tell you had made her smile.
"Well, that's a start." Siobhan had a smirk on her face. "Alright, fine. Let's get that drink. Then we'll see how far that gets you."
"Yeah," you muttered, "I'm sure."
But, as you walked down the street, you couldn't help but think about the question. What did you want?
And what was Siobhan offering?
#siobhan roy#siobhan roy x reader#siobhan roy x gn reader#siobhan roy/reader#siobhan roy x you#succession#sarah snook#sarah snook x reader#shiv roy#shiv roy x reader#shiv roy/reader#kendall roy#kendall roy x reader#roman roy#roman roy x reader#succession tv#succession show#tom wambsgans x reader#kendall roy x you#tom wambsgans#roman roy x you#connor roy x reader#greg hirsch x reader#connor roy#greg hirsch#x reader#fanfic#reader#fanfiction#succession fic
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“Don’t Call me Kid.”
Summary: Roman get’s a bit too drunk at Kendall’s birthday. (03x07)
Content: established relationship, f!reader, angst, age gap, degradation, insecurity, verbal abuse(?), humiliation, mention of Logan Roy
{This is my first fic so i hope you enjoy!)
*Update:pt 2 “SweetHeart” is up rn!!
Roman had you on edge the whole night. You had never seen him this snide or aggressive before. You blame the immense amount of alcohol he consumed, mixed with him talking to Mattson. So, when you caught Shiv getting more agitated with Roman, you knew he was spewing bullshit.
Though you didn’t feel the most compassion for Kendall, you had spent the night with Shiv and Roman and you couldn’t help but pity the man. It was his birthday and his siblings showed up for Mattson, not him. Time had passed from your arrival, and you stood at a distance from them, far enough that you weren’t in the conversation but you could still see what was happening. Roman sat while Shiv stood in front of him. You could tell he was getting under her skin but thought it was best to stay out of it. In doing so, you had to act like you were listening to this brainless celebrity talk to you about god knows what.
You get snapped out of your head when you hear Shiv call for you, wanting Roman's power trip to end.
“Can you get over here and deal with your mess?” You walked over to them and noticed they had also roped Kendall in this mess.
You took a second to study Roman’s face. He was refusing eye contact with you. Probably out of shame and not wanting to face the consequences. His eyes appeared dark, and his demeanor was unfamiliar. He’s just drunk. He’s just drunk. You tell yourself, hoping you didn’t just find out who you were really dating.
“Oh great. Are you trying to get me in timeout or something?” Roman joked, his eyes flicker over you for a moment. “Whatever, you know Kendall, I already talked to Mattson, who hates you by the way,” He laughs at his own demeaning remark. Everyone is uncomfortable. Kendall turns to Niaomi, who's trying to comfort him by holding his arm and rubbing his hand between hers. You couldn’t stand the way Roman was acting. Sure, he makes quippy remarks all the time, but this time he was just being an asshole.
You clear your throat slightly, uncomfortable with the situation, “Roman, I think you should stop.”
Your eyes lingered on him the whole time, hoping adding yourself into the conversation would defuse the situation and you two could forget about this.
When Roman heard your voice, he finally met your eyes. Turning to face you and sneered “Oh I’m sorry sweetheart, did I hurt your feelings?” You knew Roman was in defense mode but you couldn’t figure out why. No one was attacking him.
The heat from your face felt more apparent. “I’m just saying, I think you’ve had enough tonight and we should head back.” You hoped this offer would be enough and you'll deal with this in the morning. Roman rolled his eyes and leaned back further in his chair. “No, 'cause you know what, I’m having fun at this depressing shitfest. Why don’t you and Shiv talk about what lipstick has the cuter packaging or whatever.” He said with a shrill mocking tone attempting to dismiss you from the conversation.
Shiv scoffed, beating you to a response, “What the fuck Roman? If you’re going to take anything away from this pathetic conversation, listen to y/n," Shiv looked at you with her best attempt at a comforting grin.
Roman glared at her “Oh fuck off Shiv. You’re such a fucking cunt.”
The conversation wasn’t de-escalating and you felt your blood boiling. You were sure everyone could see how much you were seething. “Rome enough. You’ve had your fun. Now let’s go before you embarrass yourself anymore,” You weren't sure if your response was too harsh, but you remained patient with him long enough.
Roman snorted, now full attention on you because you fell into his game, “That’s fucking rich coming from you. You’re always so goddamn sensitive about everything.” He kept a cruel smirk on his face, waiting for your retaliation. Roman knows you hate arguing, but he wanted to push you tonight. Wanting to pull a reaction out of you, lose your composure. Shiv, Kendall, and Niaomi are still present, just speechless. You and Roman had been arguing more since Logan started stringing him along. The three of them felt stepping in would only worsen the situation and decided to stay quiet, not wanting to escalate it anymore.
You fought the urge to reveal any weakness. “I’m not being sensitive Rome, you’re being a dick, Let’s go.” You were biting the inside of your cheek, trying to abstain from your anger. You tried to grab the glass out of his hand before he quickly yanked it toward him.
His grip on the glass tightened as he swirled the last bit of champagne. “Yeah, right, perfect fucking y/n. Trying to control everything.” The tension was evident. Roman wasn’t backing down, not caring if you were the only person that loved or understood him. He just wanted to inflict damage on you at that moment.
Your body was stiff, arms crossed against your chest, hiding your tightened fists. You tasted how the inside of your cheek was bloody, trying to suppress the growing anger, taking a shallow breath from your nose. Trying your best to remind yourself, He’s just drunk. He’s just drunk. “I’m not controlling anyone. Please Rome, you’re drunk and acting insane-”
His eyes narrowed as he took a sip from his glass, muttering under his breath, cutting you off, “Well, maybe if you weren’t so young-”
“Excuse me?” Stumbling over your words a bit, trying to comprehend what Roman just said. Kendall tried to step in, but Niaomi and Shiv decided it was better to leave you two.
He put down his glass, adjusting his view, maintaining intense eye contact, “I’m just saying, maybe this would all make sense to you if you knew how the world works. But you don’t.” His lips curled into a slight smirk like he was proud of what was said.
You felt your breath quicken. Yes, you were younger than Roman and the rest of the company, but you had repeatedly proven you were qualified for your position. You weren't aware Roman acknowledged your age gap enough to bring it up in an argument. “My age has nothing to do with this.” You couldn’t think of anything witty to say in retaliation. You felt so betrayed.
Roman leaned closer to you, the alcohol taking full effect. He didn't understand he was jeopardizing your guy’s relationship with this. He pressed on, “Sure kid. Keep telling yourself that.” Maintaining that pretentious smirk on his face.
All you could do was shake your head and mutter, “You know I hate when you call me that.” Tears had been prickling in your eyes at this point. You refused to cry fuck, fuck, fuck.
Roman rolled his eyes “Welcome to the real world sweetheart. I’m not going to change who I am, so don’t fucking expect me to. I'm not getting any better. Get over whatever savior complex you have that makes you think you can fix me. It’s not going to work.” With that, you felt a new layer added to this betrayal. And Roman felt it too.
You had no control over emotions anymore. Your heartbeat was already beating furiously and irregularly. Your limbs had lost feeling, and you knew your lip was quivering. All you could feel was the stab in the heart Roman left and tears pooling in your eyes and down your cheek. “Fuck you, Roman.” You didn’t need to say anything more. You wanted to, but you knew you still loved him. You made a straight path to the nearest exit. You didn’t give the staff your phone, so you texted your driver you’ll be out in 5.
All you could hear over the horrid music calling from behind you was “See you around, kid.”
#roman roy x reader#succession#roman roy#roman roy x you#shiv roy#kendall logan roy#succession fanfic#roman roy fanfic#roman roy angst#roman roy drabble
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half awake and thinking about making roman roy ride a pillow in front of you as punishment 😵💫
it was roughly 2 am when he’d waltzed into your suite, drunk and needy. he didn’t have to say a word. you could tell by the twinkle in his eye and the throbbing vein that was practically popping out of his forehead. shamelessly stealing a drink from your mini fridge, drinking it as if it would ease the heat pooling in his stomach.
you were already pissy at him (which he loved) due to some interesting words that he threw at you during a meeting, and an important one at that. something along the lines of, “yeah, no, let the fuckin’ she-demon take the reigns. see how far that takes you.” he was glaring eager daggers into you the entire time, scoffing when you merely swallowed the bitter urge to bite back at him. he definitely didn’t get turned on at the way your voice twinged and cracked with frustration each time he’d cut you off. or by how you blatantly ignored him. no way.
“what do you want, romulus?” you groaned, spitting out the name. you knew it would make him wince. “oh, i’m sorry. can i not visit daddy’s favorite assistant?” he drew out the words just to watch you clench your jaw. you hated when he called you that. you made it your number one priority to avoid logan as much as possible. “you weren’t complaining about my glorious surprises last week.” he added slyly, a saccharine grin gracing his mouth. “last week” referencing when he’d snuck into your room and sloppily lapped at your cunt until he was rutting into your silk sheets and you were sure your hands were soaked in his hair gel from tugging on his locks so much.
“dick.” you replied, half-joking, getting up to walk closer to him nonetheless. “oh yeah?” he responded, snarkily as ever, just to watch your nostrils flare. he peered up at you through his eyelashes, a desperate, tempting slime puppy seated in an odd position on your bed. his legs spread instinctually as he sat on the corner of the bedframe, leaning back onto his hands, smirking when you stood between his meaty thighs. so convinced he had you wrapped around his finger.
“we can’t do this anymore. i’m worried your father will find out.” you deadpanned, watching pure betrayal wash over his face. god, was he sulking? “are you fucking kidding me?” he whined, with zero regard to the time of night; throwing his head back grandiosely, practically pouting. wordlessly, you reached out to cup his jaw, the pad of your thumb running over his bottom lip. “maybe you’d like that, though.” your voice fell to a whisper that made him flinch, and suddenly he was holding his breath. “nasty fuck that you are.” the words fell in a righteous laugh, a laugh that screamed: “we both know i’m right.” you peeked down to the forming semi under his pajama pants, clicking your tongue in amusement.
“is that it?” you cooed. “want everyone to hear what disgusting shit you’re into?” you forced his chin up, the uncomfortable crane in his neck making him flush. he was exposed, unintentionally barring his neck to you. you took the opportunity to suck on the pale flesh above his collarbone, working your way up to his ear. “answer me.” you pressed a knee to his growing cock. his response was a pathetic “yeah” and a furrow in his brow, to which you scoffed and pulled away at.
“yeah?” you mocked, watching his eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment. he got harder. you grabbed a pillow from behind him, purposefully pressing it down to his lap. “why don’t you give me a show, rome?” you pulled away completely, grabbing a chair and sliding it up to the bed. his eyes widened once again as if he’d been betrayed, when in reality he was just a spoiled little thing.
when he hesitated to move, you groaned in annoyance: “i don’t have all night. are you that stupid already?” he rolled his eyes, situating the pillow between his clothed legs. you stopped him. “you know i want to see you.” you crooned, watching his face flush even darker. “let me see your pretty little cock.” the dirty praise made look down at his trembling hands, grumbling a “shut up.” still, he obeyed, freeing his dick from the confines of his luxurious pajama pants. you couldn’t help yourself, letting out an “aw” at how eager he was. he groaned in embarrassment once more.
“don’t be too loud. or do. i don’t really care.” you chuckled. when he looked at you with utter humiliation in his eyes, you signaled for him to hurry up with your finger. “what, you think i’m joking? you dumb boy.” you spat out the word like a curse, and his hips stuttered helplessly. “oh, that’s what gets you going, right? being told how worthless you are?” it was odd how naturally the words fell from your mouth, and sent electricity shooting through his body.
he shakily, messily pistoned his hips against the pillow, the flushed pink tip of his cock a beautiful contrast to the cool white pillow. “no wonder you don’t know how to fuck.” you muttered under your breath, watching him fall forward with an especially hard thrust at the claim. the prettiest whines and curses escaped his throat, messy agreements to your words littered throughout. the way his hips rolled and stuttered made you grin, and heat pooled in your stomach with each new level of depravity he reached.
“you’re just such a shameless bitch, aren’t you, roman?” you hummed, leaning in a little, admiring him. he could feel your eyes burning holes into his back. he gripped at the pillow beneath him. “fucking that thing like your life depends on it. it’s pathetic, you know?” he gasped, his eyes falling shut once more: “i know- i know.” his voice didn’t even sound like his own, all high-pitched and wanton. his cock twitched when he heard himself. his thrusts got even messier, forcing himself to keep going through the tingling stimulation on his drooling cock. he hissed, his head falling back to reveal his adam’s apple covered in your drying saliva. you bit the inside of your cheek at the sight, a predatory glimmer in your eyes.
“depraved little shit.” you practically laughed out, watching him so focused on reaching his orgasm. his eyes were glued to his cock, trying so desperately to get there by himself. “can’t make yourself finish?” you teased, watching his eyes prickle with tears in frustration. “that’s just too bad, huh? it’ll be nice to watch you actually work for something for a change.” he whined again at your words
it was going to be a long night.
#back from hibernation#inspired by me and koe’s constant roman thirsting#i need to ruin him#this is kinda ass#sawry!#degradation on 10000% with this one#but like#come on it’s literally roman what#HAIIII :3#roman roy#roman roy x reader#succession#succession x reader#got lazy lol!
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Dependence Pt. 3 (Roy!Sibling x Roy Family)
Character/s: Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Roman, Logan
Word Count: 2,054
Warning: addiction, drugs, alcohol, death mention
Tag: @locke-writes
A/N: Idk how angsty this is on a scale of 1-10, but I can tell you it's actually very sweet and very heartbreaking. Baby Roy is going through it!!! I love them!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜
Dependence Pt. 1 / Dependency Pt. 2 / Dependence Pt. 4 / Dependence Pt. 5
Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt One.
Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt. Two
The first number you called was Logan’s. The next was Kendalls. The last was Connor’s. Slurred, sleepy, assuring him you were going to be okay. You would be okay because the shaking had stopped, you were warming up again, you were feeling better. You couldn’t keep your eyes open though, the lids too heavy. Curled into a ball in the booth, cradling a stranger's phone, slipping into unconsciousness. He said something, something that sounded sad, panicked. You were going to be okay, you felt so light. Your pulse is barely there. He yelled again, but it was incoherent. You were tired, the exhaustion setting deep into your bones. If you just put your head down, if you shut your eyes for a moment, then you could get some sleep. You’d be alright. The last coherent words from your mouth was an apology: I’m so sorry, I’m fucked up. I’m sorry. . . You were so light, so far away. It felt nice. No more anger. No more rage. No more self-hatred. Finally, you were free. Free from it all, free from him, from life.
He peered over your crib, taking you all in. you were a few months old, just staring up at him. Your eyes are so wide, so new to the world. You slept in the nursery they’d all been in, though things were different. Boxes of things had been placed in the corners, on the floor of the closet, as if you were only a temporary guest. You reached up, cooing at the mobile. Zoo animals spinning round and round. Your mother and Logan off somewhere, doing something, unbothered by the little life they created. You were a quiet baby, as if you already knew what was coming, as if you could sense the irritation in your fathers voice every time you cried, hissing at your mother to quiet you down. Neither of them were fit for this kind of job, as young as he was, Roman could sense it. When your smile fell, he picked you up, out of the crib, and sat back in the rocking chair. A few whimpers was all you let out, as if you were already bottling it up inside. He remembers how small you were, how sorry he was. Not just for your father, your mother, the both of them terribly one minded, only ever thinking of themselves, but for this life as well. It wasn’t easy, that much he’d learned in his short life. It would never be easy. The money, the luxury, it helped, but it could only do so much cushioning. A fresh bruise throbbed over his eye. That day, in your cramped bedroom where it seemed like they put just about anything in, he made a promise to you. He’d never let you get hurt. He’d never let them hurt you the way they hurt him. You smiled up at him, all gums, like you knew what he was saying, like you were thanking him. It would not be an easy job. Pacing the floors of the emergency room, the realization struck him like a slap to the face: he failed. He failed you. He hadn’t protected you from anything, especially your father. He didn’t do what he’d promised you.
You stood to the side of Shiv’s bed, blankie thrown over your shoulder. You were too frightened to wake her, not wanting to scare her, so you were as still as possible. Your breathing ragged from the nightmare, your cheeks still wet. Lately, you've been having one every night. Your room, without the toys, without the decorations, without anything, felt more like a prison than your bedroom. You were being punished again. Quietly, you tiptoed down the hall, down the stairs, to where their bedrooms were. The boys doors were shut, but Shiv’s had been left slightly open. You took that as a sign, taking the handle in your chubby little hand. Her room had looked the same since you could remember. She slept soundly on her side. Barely above a whisper, you called her name. Shivy? Over and over again until she stirred. She used to jump when you came in, when you woke her, but this had become routine the last few weeks. If it wasn’t her, it was Ken or Rome. One of them always woke up to you in their bed, unable to bear yours any longer. A nightmare, you’d confess. They’d nod, understanding all too well, making room for you beside them. She doesn’t say anything, wordlessly moving to the other side, opening the blankets. You climbed up next to her, making sure Blankie got there too. She let her arm fall on to you, holding you close. She’d always remembered the way you smelled. Sweet, sweaty, warm. Her face buried in your hair, tightening her grip. You were so small, so scared. She couldn’t fall back to sleep until she heard your shallow breathing even. You never had any nightmares with her. That’s what she thought of you when she saw you in that bed, how she was living a nightmare, that if she’d been there for you, if she’d let you climb into her bed, none of this would have happened.
He’d asked you to dance at your mothers wedding. It was one of the first times in a long time you weren’t drinking yourself to bed. She’d been married four, five times. It wouldn’t last long, they never did. You were just thankful she decided not to have anymore kids. Though, what did that say about you? He found you sitting at one of the many tables, watching everyone else dance. He held out his hand. It took you a moment to realize just what he was asking, shrugging before you stood, taking his hand. She’d invited your brothers and sister despite not knowing them very well, needing bodies to fill up chairs. She invited everyone she knew every time, though the guest list grew smaller and smaller with every debut. There were only so many last names a woman could collect before people stopped caring. She’d whined about it to you before she walked down the aisle, calling them ungrateful and selfish for ruining her day. She seemed happy now, swaying in the arms of another Logan-type, her veil lifted by the wind. Picturesque. He leads you to the dance floor, his hand on your back, the other in yours. Kendall seemed content, a rare occurrence for him. He looked nice, dressed in a lightly colored suit for the summer wedding, smiling down at you. You placed your head against his chest, taking him in, grateful for his presence in that moment. You hadn’t realized how unhappy you’d been, how taxing doing this all over again was. Your mother wasn’t the root cause for your problems, but she didn’t help. It felt like every day was her wedding day. Every day it was about her, her wants, her needs, and it was all a disaster. In the end she got what she wanted, in the end she was the only one left smiling. You caught him watching you think, unsure of what his mind was doing. He remembered it like it was yesterday. You seemed so grown up, so worn down. Not like the baby he remembered. He hugged you a little tighter, not wanting this moment to pass. Now it was too late. You looked so defeated, so young, it scared him. What could he have done to stop this? Surely there was something, something he could have done to prevent this. He never should have let you go.
That night is burned into his memory forever. You were crying, sobbing into the phone. You were so scared, so alone. When he got the call, he moved without thinking. He got in the car and started driving, trying to keep you on the phone. You dropped a pin in the middle of nowhere. You were so tired. Not just exhausted, but you ached in the marrow of your bones. You were so done with this life, with everything. You’d hoped, in your moment of desperation, of sincerity, that your father would care. That he would come to your rescue, save you from yourself. Instead Connor pulled up to the sidewalk you’d been sitting on, opening the passenger side door for you. You wiped your tears with the palms of your hands, unable to say anything, to defend yourself, your actions. He didn’t yell like you were expecting, he didn’t ask a million questions or patronize you. Internally he was lost. Should he drive you to the hospital? Back to Dads? In the end, he brought you home, to his place. You wanted to thank him, to apologize for being such a mess, but all you could do was press your head against the cold window and cry. You weren’t sure what time it was, what day it was, the last time you slept. Days, probably. He grabbed your hand, the other on the wheel, rubbing his thumb against the back of it. That made you cry harder. Connor hated to see you like that. You were his baby after all. He squeezed your hand off and on, three times. I love you. You were small in his car, fragile, covered in bruises. The bags under your eyes were so dark, so painful looking. He’d never forget it, the way you flinched at the sight of him, like you were waiting for an explosion. He wasn’t angry or disappointed, he was petrified for you. If he could go back, would he have done anything differently? He’s not sure. Would changing anything have an impact now? You were sleeping, IV’s in your arms, wires stuck to your chest, the hospital gown hanging off you. You were skin and bone. The rings around your eyes so black, so bruised. He didn’t think you could look worse after that night, and yet, again, you’ve proved him wrong. He didn’t think it could get worse. He squeezed your hand three times, over and over again, so it would be the first thing you felt when you woke up. I love you. I love you. I love you.
They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. That didn’t happen to you, not even when you were sure you were gone for good. Instead, it was your life that flashed before their eyes. All the best moments, the worst, the things they had and hadn’t done as older siblings, all their failings. Someone called an ambulance. They used Narcan and charcoal. You were covered in sickness, shaking, gasping for air. In and out of it, not wanting any of them to see you like this. It was you and the nurses, everyone else left to wait in the emergency room, trickling in as soon as they got there. You hadn’t slept in days, exhausted, sobbing. The nurses held you as you cried out, sucked from the blackness back to real life. Everything hurts. Everything stung. Everything you’d done came flooding back. Regret sat heavy on your chest. You were almost gone, so close. It was so light, so airy. You screamed, wanting to go back, wanting to be back there, in that booth, in the club, far away from here. The frustration at yourself suffocated you. It was inescapable. There was no running from it anymore. They gave you something to calm you down, letting you sleep. Finally, It wasn’t the same kind of floating feeling, but it was close enough. Your brothers and sister sat beside you, scared to touch you. You were so little, so broken. Of course you wouldn’t do well, they thought. Of course you shouldn’t have been left on your own like that. Of course this happened. Connor held your hand, the only one brave enough to touch you. They weren’t sure what they were going to do or say when you woke up, but they could feel it on the tip of their tongues: the sadness, the anger, the apologies, the hurt. They knew, whatever they did, they had to be there for you, like they’d been before. When you cried. When you had nightmares. When you were getting better and when you fell again. They’d be there for everything.
#writing#connor roy#connor roy imagine#connor roy x reader#kendall roy#kendall roy imagine#kendall roy x reader#shiv roy#shiv roy imagine#shiv roy x reader#roman roy#roman roy imagine#roman roy x reader#logan roy#logan roy imagine#logan roy x reader#succession#succession imagine#succession x reader
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Obedient Chapter 17
Roman Roy x fem!reader
Summary: During the Yacht trip, Kendall was announced as taking the blame for the scandal. And with that, Roman is now named COO. But Kendall had other things in mind, causing another rift in the family and causing more and more tension. You see through Kendall's PR stunt of being the good guy, but Jess disagrees with you.
Based off of S3 E2 Sucession
Tw: Child abuse, verbal, physical and emotional, hints about cSA, mentions of sexual abuse , mention of ED
If it is triggering, PLEASE SKIP THE TIME JUMP
WC: 6.5K
Notes: Pls take the tw into consideration. It is a dark story and I do not want to be responsible for any hard issues that people might deal with after reading. Take care of yourselves. I love you.
Chapter 17: Julius Ceasar
Kendall sent you a text, wondering if you were willing to join or not. You left him on read.
You agreed with everything he said, but a part of you didn’t think he was genuine. Some part of you believed it was just to get back at his father. It had to be. You also couldn’t leave your job. You could not afford to. You were finally comfortable. And Roman would be crushed.
Also, where did you and Roman stand now? You had no clue. You didn’t want to continue this, but you couldn’t help yourself. If he held you and kissed you, you’d kiss him back. But you told yourself you wouldn’t. You didn’t think you would, but Roman had you wrapped around his fingers. He had complete control of your autonomy.
You always thought you needed to be there for Roman. It wasn’t a good time to leave him. At least not now. But it was never a good time to leave or let Roman be just… still. Something was constantly happening that you needed to come to rescue to comfort.
You laid back in your seat, reading a new book you had picked up. Shiv got a call from Tom, suspiciously going away. You looked at Roman, confused. He shrugged, watching Shiv as she fidgeted trying to listen to the news. He leaned over to Gerri for confirmation of what Shiv was talking about. It was exactly what Roman feared. Now that Kendall fucked this up, they had to reconsider COO.
He just pestered Shiv trying to get the information out. But Gerri had gotten the news already.
“They’re live picking the new CEO” Roman exposed. You put your book down, looking over.
“Woah-woah-what? That’s such bullshit. You already got-“ You tried to interject. Gerri gave you a look, hoping you’d drop it. You weren’t well-versed in this world. Of course, Logan would pull on his decision. She didn’t need you breaking Roman’s hopes even more. She wanted Roman to be CEO just as badly as you. She basically prepped him for it. She knew how much you cared about him, which warmed her heart, but she didn’t see this arguing and fighting for Roman doing anything for Roman. At least not with Logan.
Roman and Shiv went back and forth. They sent snarky remarks to one another. You sighed and went onto your phone, trying to stay out of this argument. “I mean 3 out of the 4 of us agree I should be CEO, so if we make a bet, I could win a lot of money right now.” Roman tried to continue to press onto Shiv’s nerves.
“Yeah- one is your pretend mommy and the other one jerks you off from time to time.” Shiv insulted not only Roman but you. You didn’t make eye contact, embarrassed that now people knew you and Roman were intimate and somewhat involved. It was just a small secret that now everyone seemed to be in the know about. “Oh wait- I’m sorry was that private? Were we not supposed to know you shoved your cock in your assistant's mouth?” Shiv continued to get at Roman.
“Don’t you have an actor to blow so your husband could watch?” Roman fired back at Shiv.
“I don’t know why you both know so much about each other's sex life.” You tried to chime in.
“It’s not like Roman even has one. Most of the people he’s been with has told every-“ Shiv tried to continue to insult Roman before Roman interrupted and loudly mocked her, making her voice sound obnoxious.
“Welcome to my fucking world now.” Gerri whispered to you, sensing your discomfort. She had known about you and Roman for a bit now. But she saw how much you took care of Roman. She appreciated it. He needed someone like you.
Roman decided to go call Logan about the position and try to save his own ass. You watched the door intensely, worried about what it could end to. You knew he could be ready, but he didn’t think he was. He was also a nervous wreck and when he was nervous, he talked too much. And he was in the bathroom for too long. At least that’s what you thought. Maybe it was your anxiety making it seem even longer than it was. Roman left the bathroom, trying to remain bland in front of Shiv to make her think he did something worthy.
The plane finally landed after a while of Roman and Shiv insulting and making fun of one of the other and trying to sabotage the other one.
Your head was killing you with all the bantering. You couldn’t stand it. You needed an aspirin after this flight. But it only got worse when Shiv picked up a call from Logan. But Shiv, of course, took it to fuck with Roman.
“Roman shut up…” You mumbled to him as he tried to childishly mock her for the fifth time on this flight. You just dragged him into the car, trying to get you both somewhere calm enough, somewhere away from all this anxiety.
Before you got in the car, Gerri pulled you to the side. “Hey- so if this ends up going public…” Gerri started. You shook your head no, trying to deny your relationship with Roman.
“Uh- no-no. That’s not-“ You tried to deny.
“Roman told me a while ago…” She dropped. Your lips turned into a straight line, looking around. You rubbed your forehead, looking back at her.
“Uh- we broke up a bit ago. And uh- it’s probably not gonna… y’know…” You tried to explain to her.
“Oh well if that little night you spent in his room wasn’t much, if it was, just keep this under until the scandal is over.” She directed you. You nodded, feeling her hand pat down your shoulder. You felt embarrassed, knowing everyone saw. It was completely out. Even Logan had seen you sneak out. How humiliating.
You and Roman drove to a hotel, waiting for the council to soon come. It seemed redundant, to have updates being sent your way on what the next move would be for Roman. You frantically answered emails and texts for Roman. Roman seemed oddly calm. He walked around, eating bits of the meal that was sent up to the room. Gerri made sure to check to see if his reputation was truly clean though. She had been searching everywhere to see if announcing Roman would be a bad idea.
You just kept Roman updated, but he dodged everything. “Roman, take this shit seriously. For once.” You begged.
“Oh, come on… it’s just me and you in a room, alone…” He tried to ease you in.
“Yeah, we’re always in a room. Alone.” You rolled your eyes.
“Yeah, but it’s different.” He tried to set a certain mood. He kept dropping obvious innuendos, but you were too focused on what the next big thing would happen. You weren’t ready to comfort a grown man for not being able to fuck you.
“Yeah- different 'cause you actually wanna fuck.” You bullied him. You got a text from Gerri. She had just been told who the next CEO would be. Gerri was. “Oh fuck…” You whispered. You looked at Roman, his face finally serious as he anticipated your response. “Uh- Rome- I’m really fucking sorry, but it’s- it’s uh- it’s Gerri. Gerri’s CEO.” You broke the news to him.
“You’re lying.” He denied. You shook your head and showed him the texts. He read them, hoping he was also misreading something. But it was right there.
‘Shiv blew it with Lisa. Logan told me it’s me’
Your heart broke for Roman. You sighed, wrapping your arms around him to only be shoved off of him lightly. He didn’t want to be touched. He just sat at the arm of the couch, looking away as he indulged in his own negative thoughts.
“Fucking-Fuck- I basically gave her that. I told dad it should be her.” He revealed to you. Your eyes grew. He shook his head, trying to save himself. “No- I said it should be me, but if It wasn’t it should be her, but uh- I guess it was never me… Uh- fuck hold up. Let me call Shiv. I wanna break the news to her.” He grinned, grabbing his phone before running off to the bedroom that was attached to the rest of the hotel room. He lay on the bed, calling up Shiv.
You watched Roman, trying to bully Shiv to hide his own hurt and his own insecurities. He rather make fun of Shiv than deal with the fact he also had been passed up for the position. He laid the phone down, staring at the ceiling.
You got up from the couch and walked over to the bedroom. You laid your shoulder and head on the door frame, watching him. He had his hands over his chest as he stared at the ceiling fan. “You alright, Rome?” You wondered.
“Why the fuck do you care?” He laughed, thinking you’d take it as a joke if he laughed off the insecurity at you. It felt less threatening to him.
“Cause I give a fuck about you. That’s why.” You defended. He looked over at you, raising his eyebrows as if to tell you he didn’t think you actually gave a fuck before looking up again at the ceiling. “Rome- come on. Don’t be a fucking baby now.” You whined, coming over to the bed. You sat down next to him, your legs curled up on his side. You leaned forward, looking down at him. You were invading his peripheral. “I, surprisingly, still give a fuck. Even if you’re the most annoying person I have ever encountered. But I do think, you’re also one of the smartest, funniest, most creative, and unique individuals I have ever met.” You tried to boost his ego.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t make a great CEO, does it?” He tried to find a way to hurt his own feelings. To justify, even though some of his qualities were good, he had others that made him bad, along with his good traits making him even worse since they weren’t CEO traits.
“Those are all traits that make a great CEO. Steve Jobs was a fucking weirdo freak, but he was amazing. CEOs don’t become CEOs by not being creative and being fucking normal.�� You tried to encourage him. You reached down to hold his hand as he kept his hands clamped across his chest. He loosened his grip on his hands, holding yours.
“Why do you believe in me so much?” He genuinely wondered. He finally removed his gaze from the ceiling to you. He wanted to see if you’d lie to him.
“Cause- I don’t know. I just do. I think you’re ready Roman… I think you’re just as qualified as Kendall. You’re just- you’re all the good qualities of both your siblings.” You admit to him. “You’re charming like Shiv, but you have experience like Kendall. And then you have your weirdo freak qualities that make other younger sleaze ball CEO’s comfortable around.” You admit. His eyes softened his lip pouting. He genuinely felt so much love being with you.
“Can you just- can we- can we go back? But more normal?” He asked you one more question, but you did not comprehend anything he was actually saying to you.
“What do you mean?” You asked. He scoffed, not believing that you had no idea what he had meant.
“Oh, fuck off- you know… just… I want to be fucking normal. Like a normal fucking-“ He tried to explain. You finally understood. This was Roman’s way of asking you to take him back and actually put a label on whatever this was that you both had. You sighed, unsure of what you wanted. You looked off, making Roman feel insecure about even asking you. “Yeah- no. It was fucking stupid.” He tried to insult his attempt and throw it out. “No this is perfect. You, hating me and occasionally sucking my dick is great.”
You rubbed your face, not wanting to deal with this confrontation. “Rome- I care- I do, but this is just… it’s not normal. I mean nothing about us screams consensual. You’re my boss who’s in his mid-30s and I’m a fresh out of college assistant. What do you think people are gonna say? Especially now. Plus- Rome, you need to learn boundaries and understand that-“ You tried to explain but Roman mocked your voice and didn’t bother to even listen.
“You’re more obsessed about how people view you than me.” He laughed. “It’s pathetic. It’s like you think people actually give a fuck about celebrity assistants. Wait- name me one celebrity assistant. Come on.” He pressured you. He was just insulting you because you brought out the actual truth of what this was, and he wasn’t going to let his ego be bruised any further than it already had been.
“This is another reason, Roman. This is exactly why I hate you sometimes. You’re a spoiled fucking pervert who gets away with shit because you play the damaged victim.” You began to insult him. “You could fix all your issues if you actually went to fucking therapy rather than cum in your own hand. Oh wait- sorry I forgot you can’t even look at your own cock.” You continued.
“Oh, and you’re so perfect. Miss. Orphan.” He fired. He hadn’t known much about your family other than you never spoke about them. You never brought up memories of them. You did speak about a lot of other things though. Roman just put two and two together. “What’s the story there, huh? Did they just put you up or did they just not love you?” He continued, despite seeing your eyes wield up with tears. Your bottom lip quivered as you tried to hold back everything from sobbing. “Oh- I found it. They just didn’t love you. That’s it. Well, stop pushing that fucking narrative on me.” He insisted.
You grabbed a pillow before repeatedly hitting him. You didn’t want to genuinely hurt him, and you couldn’t just punch him, so this was the next best thing. Roman shouted as the fast and hard blows actually hurt him a bit. He grabbed your wrists to stop you as you finally cried and let out all the anger you had built up. “YOU. FUCKING. ASSHOLE!!” You shouted as he took the pillow away. He pinned you against the bed, holding your wrists to the bed. You kicked and tried to break free from him before spitting in his face. You let anger-induced tears stream down your face as you kept screaming at him.
“You have no fucking right! You have no fucking right!” You screamed like a child. You continued before you got too tired to fight him. You laid there, completely exhausted, too tired to even run off. You curled up on the edge of the bed. “You’re a fucking asshole…” You whispered.
“So, I was right…” Roman tried to guess. You looked at him, shaking your head at how he had the audacity to continue to argue with you over this. You sat up, giving him what could only be compared to a death stare.
“Yea- there. You got it Rome. Yup. Mommy and Daddy didn’t love me, so I started dating my sexually inept boss.” You tried to hurt his feelings. He genuinely wanted to know what had happened between you and your parents though. He just stared, his eyes soft and his head low. He wanted to listen. You relented before giving in. “My parents weren’t there. And when they were they picked on me. A lot. Just like Logan does to you. If I got a bad grade, I was a fucking loser, dumbass, but if I got a good grade, I was a showoff, I wanted credit for nothing, I was an attention seeker. And then- something happened, and they called me a liar. So, it kept happening. Then I was a whore. And I asked for it. A 9-year-old. So, yea- I don’t have parents. And don’t even get me started at puberty. Even before. I ate too much. I spent too much money on food. I was a burden. I drained everything from them. And when I developed, I was a pig. I was ugly. I was a whore. I was a bitch. Everything was, even more, my fault.” You let yourself cry. “You know- I didn’t become vegan for animal reasons. I did it so my parents wouldn’t have to cook or buy me food anymore. So, they’d stop bullying me about food or eating.” You laughed as a reaction to how stupid it was. You wiped your face. “It made me lose enough weight that instead of being called fat, I’d be too skinny. But once they thought it boosted my ego, I was fat again.” You continued to laugh at how ridiculous the abuse was.
Roman’s face dropped, and he felt guilty about attacking you based on your parents. If he knew, he would’ve maybe held back. Maybe. “Can I hug you?” He asked, watching as you held yourself. You needed comforting. You nodded, feeling Roman bring you in close to him. You just hid in his shoulder, not wanting to cry too much.
“Uh-I’m really fucking sorry- I just- I assumed-…” he tried to reason with you. You nodded, sniffling.
“I know Roman… I know…” You whispered. You knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He just didn’t know how deeply your parents were abusive. Maybe they just weren’t as present or maybe they weren’t the best. But you had never given him any hints to show him it was this bad.
“Logan blamed me too… for what… just, one of his friends.” Roman revealed to you. You pulled away, looking at him nearly about to sob even harder. You never cared about your own abuse, but knowing someone you knew had felt the same thing you did always killed you. “Oh, fuck off, don’t look at me like a run-over fucking puppy.” He tried to redirect your emotions. You tried to but couldn’t help it. Roman didn’t want to feel more shame on his abuse, putting your head back. He didn’t want to see the pity on your face. As if he was that fucked up and damaged.
“I’m sorry.” You whined as you tried to hide your emotions. You would’ve hated this too. “I just- I don’t like people knowing- just- you and Jess are the only ones who know.” You tried to confide in him.
“Yeah- well- my whole family knows… And Gerri… And well one or two of Dad’s friends…” He admits. His dad’s friends only knew because well, they were also sick perverts who had probably thought it was okay to brag.
“I’m sorry for making fun of your sexual- fucking- you know…” You tried to acknowledge.
“Yeah- I wish I knew before saying your mom and dad don’t love you.” Roman did his best to return an apology to you. You laughed at his attempt.
“I- I just… I-“ You wanted to gather your thoughts, but they were so scattered.
Gerri called Roman, interrupting your sentence. You looked down before answering the call for him. He grabbed the phone and talked to her. He had to be down at the office. Now.
He grabbed his coat, looking at you, wondering if you were gonna tag along. You eventually left the bed and followed him. But you stayed in the car while Roman went running his errands and did what Logan asked of him. You were in a trance. You had confessed everything to Roman. Not many details, but enough. You didn’t ever tell people. You found it too embarrassing. All you could remember is the only things you had of your parents.
(TW: INTENSE CHILD ABUSE, VERBAL, MENTAL AND PHYSICAL)
-15 years ago-
Your mom lay on the couch, cigarette in hand, and watching the television. Your dad had been gone for what seemed like months. Mom always got sad when Dad left this long. You never understood why he was always gone. It seemed off. But it was probably work. You saw someone's dad come in for career day and say he had business trips.
But you weren’t sure what your dad did. Just that he had something.
Mom ignored you more when he wasn’t home. She looked at you very rarely when Dad was gone. But when she did, it felt like she was mad at you.
You hadn’t had lunch since Friday at school. It was 4 p.m. now. On a Sunday. You probably had some snacks in the pantry. But there weren’t any left anymore. You ate everything that you could possibly make yourself.
“Mommy…” You whispered, scared you’d wake her up. She hadn’t responded. You quietly walked over to see if she had been awake. Her eyes were shut with a lit cigarette in her hand. You walked closer, grabbing the cigarette from her. You didn’t want another accident. You pulled the cigarette off her fingers gently before turning around to put it out before hearing a loud snarl coming from behind you.
Fear immediately came over you.
“Are you fucking shitting me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” She yelled, grabbing your little arm, and roughly pulling you to her. “What the fuck are you doing with this? Are you trying to steal this from me? Huh?” She interrogated you before you could even answer. She only saw one way of teaching you by taking her cigarettes.
You didn’t know why she was so upset. What did you do? She never explained. She just got mad.
Before you knew it, you felt an intense burning on your arm. You cried and tried to pull away.
All you wanted was to ask for a sandwich.
But the more you cried, the worse the punishment got and the madder she got. You learned that early on.
-6 months later-
Dad finally came home after doing god knows what. The first night he came home, Mom and Dad fought all day and screamed. You barely got any sleep. You had done everything to block the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. But then after days of fighting, turned into days of them being silent and laughing.
Dad bought some stuff to make Mom happy.
They didn’t pay attention to you when they were like that, depending on what Dad bought Mom. But whatever it was this time, they barely acknowledged your existence. It was better this way. You weren’t their main target.
It was Christmas time, and the school had a fair. There were vendors to buy gifts for yourself or your family. The thing is your family didn’t celebrate Christmas. But to keep a front, sent you off with $10. How could they be so bad if they gave their kids money? Right?
Well, you wandered the fair, excited and cheerful. You spent what seemed like hours trying to pick the perfect gift. You settled on a stuffed animal of your favorite toy. The man asked who it was for before wrapping it. “Myself.” You smiled. You were so excited to go home and play with it.
You got home, and your mom immediately stopped and asked what you got her and your dad. You went silent. “I got myself…” You mumbled.
“Yourself? God- you’re so fucking selfish. We taught you better than this. We give you fucking everything. We had nothing when we were your age. I had to share a room with my sisters when I was a kid. And you have your own room, toys, clothes, ps2. And you’re too greedy to buy something small for us? Your father slaves all day. Fucking Christ- wait for dad to come home. Get the fuck to your room.” Your mom berated. You ran to your room, hiding your new toy. You couldn’t afford to get it taken.
But once Dad came over, it was pretty much done. You shut your brain off and tried to not cry. Crying made everything worse.
And worst of all, he found the toy. And he ripped it up in front of you.
If he couldn’t have something nice, you shouldn’t either.
-2 weeks later-
You had spent the night in your room, playing with your baby doll. You rocked it back and forth and fed it. You were more attached to baby dolls than barbies. You liked to take care of things rather than live through dolls. Suddenly the lights shut off.
Fear hit you.
You ran out of the room, crying and screaming. You looked for your parents and saw your dad over the fuse box. He had purposely shut the lights. All he did was laugh at you as you wept. You wanted a hug but only got laughter in return. Laughter that was not directed with you, but towards you.
You couldn’t trust them to protect you.
(start here if you wanna skip the TW)
-Present-
You sat there, wiping a tear that ran down your face. Roman had gotten back into the car after being gone for a while to see you curled up, holding yourself. He could sense how upset you were. “Fuck- did I accidentally fucking- I don’t know did I fucking send out an offensive tweet? What’s wrong?” He asked you.
You shook your head, wiping your face quickly. You painfully smile over at him.
“You look like a fucking serial killer. What the fuck is wrong?” He asked. You just shook your head and grabbed a water bottle that was in the car. You took a sip before taking a breath to answer him.
“Uhhh- I’ve never told anyone other than Jess about my parents… Just… it’s a lot of old memories…” Your voice croaked. His lips curled into a partial frown, unsure how to fix this.
“Uhm- well if it’s- it’s going to make any difference… You did watch Logan knock a tooth out of my mouth. So, call it even.” He shrugged. It was true. He hadn’t witnessed it. But he definitely knew too much about you that you weren’t willing to be seen. “Also cheer up, we’re seeing your fucking best friend and my coked-out brother.” He thought it would cheer you up in the slightest. It did. You could find comfort in Jess.
“Thank you…” You whispered, laying your head onto his shoulder. You slipped your hand onto his, intertwining your fingers together. Roman hid a smile, acting nonchalant.
“For what? I’m not doing it for you.” He wasn’t sure about what you were thanking him for.
“Shut the fuck up. You- Thank you for not making my parent thing… like a big deal…” You tried to explain, but he ignored it. It was exactly what you wanted. The car stopped at Kendall’s ex-wife’s apartment, and you had already texted Jess you were both on your way. He helped you out of the car, making sure you didn’t trip on the corner of the street or something. You walked in the lobby and waited for an okay to go up the elevator.
Jess got the okay to let you both up. You went up the elevator with him before being met by Jess. She hugged you immediately. “Hey, fucking crazy night…” She whispered, hoping Roman didn’t hear.
“I know… what fucking crazies…” You mumbled before being led to the living room with Roman and Jess. Roman walked through, anticipating to bully Kendall before finding Shiv curled up on the couch.
“Okay, well, looky looky here.” He already began his bullying. Shiv just asked how Logan was, but you had left the room to be with Jess.
“Uh- Jess- I- Uh- I fucked up… I told Rome… about Angela and Mick…” You confronted her. You rarely called your parents by ‘mom’ or ‘dad’. They were just people you knew as long as you were concerned. Her eyes widened and she was completely speechless.
“Jesus…you’re fucking in love with him or something…” She couldn’t believe it. “Why?” She asked.
“Uh- he made a comment. So, I cried and told him. Not details. But just- y’know. The basic knowledge…” You tried not to delve too deep into it. You were worried it would end in you crying in Rava’s kitchen. “I genuinely don’t know… I think he gets it…” You rationalized it.
“How are you feeling?” She asked, putting her hand over yours. Your bottom lip pouted, but Jess warned you not to cry. “Shush. Come on. Don’t do all that. You have me. And my mom. And my dad. And brothers. Come on. Don’t do that.” She giggled, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. “Now let’s eavesdrop.” She dragged you, pretending to be working as she sat at the corner table and watched the sibling’s banter.
Roman treated Shiv like a war criminal, under investigation as if he was trying to uncover the biggest secret in history. He couldn’t stop pushing and bringing out stupid metaphors. “This is what you’re seriously into?” Jess teased you. You giggled, rolling your eyes.
“Tell me more about that guy with the rat tail from a year ago again.” You reminded her of a god-awful man she had hooked up with one too many times.
“Oh, fuck off. Richie wasn’t… fuck yea, okay that was disgusting…” She tried to keep her laughter low enough.
Once Kendall came in, you and Jess watched intensely. This was going to be so much more interesting.
“Oh, here he comes, the attention whore.” Roman insulted him to the room. Kendall treated it like a normal conversation, but Roman held such a giant grudge. You didn’t blame him. Because of Kendall, Roman was completely humiliated. Given a position to be given away simply because his brother wanted to fuck with their dad. “I did bring you those Danish pastries though. They’re on the table.” Roman ended his rant by trying to prove to Kendall his shit talking about his little brother having no business being public. Kendall thanked him. “It was y/n’s idea.” He pushed the credit to you. It wasn’t. You told him not to bother. But he did anyway. But the space wasn’t private. The siblings moved off, leaving you and Jess. Jess and you just stood by the door, letting people go in if they were permitted to by Kendall. You both sat on the stairs, looking over the view of the apartment.
“This is like… dude… just- what the fuck…” You sighed, laying your head on the metal railing.
“I know… But Kendall has a point…” Jess revealed. You pulled away, looking at her with a scrunched-up eyebrow, and your lips moved into disgust.
“Oh please. He doesn’t mean any of that shit. He just hates Logan. And is mad he’s not CEO. He doesn’t care about rape victims.” You scoffed. Jess looked off, not wanting to argue with you. But she didn’t think you were right about Kendall’s intentions. I mean Kendall had a daughter. He had a little sister. He was very liberal compared to his dad and Roman. Maybe not as much as Shiv, but Kendall made a point to stay up to date. “If you think Kendall actually cares about rape victims it’s like saying Bill Cosby doesn’t have pills in his drawer.” You compared.
“Oh, and Roman is such a poster child for stopping oppression.” She insulted. She looked up at you, waiting for your rebuttal. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to argue either.
“Don’t do that shit…” You mumbled, playing with the necklaces that dangled down your neck.
“Do what? You started it with Ken.” She stated.
“Yeah- but me insulting Ken and you insulting Roman are different.” You tried to pointed out.
“Not really… I mean, you’re saying Ken is faking because of Logan. And not cause he’s surrounded by women. I mean, he’s standing up for those women. For victims. You, especially, should be glad someone is speaking out.” She began to rant, letting one thought she didn’t mean to let split, go through.
You stayed quiet, staring at her, hurt. “Yeah- someone like me… my bad…” You whispered. “You know Roman is like me too… so yeah, where was Kendall then?” you questioned her. You probably should’ve kept that to yourself, but it was too late.
“You know that’s not- Look- just- I don’t think Ken is doing this for no reason. I think just- he’s trying to right his wrongs maybe.” She tried to suggest, but you weren’t going to budge. This was a lot to just say the victims need to be taken seriously. He was just smearing his family online honestly rather than talking about victims.
Roman left the room, annoyed slamming the door after a comment was made against him by Shiv about his ability to actually have sex rather than expose himself. “Fucking bitch.” He mumbled. You turned your head hearing Kendall calling out and Shiv laughing at him. You got up, quickly and ran to his side. “Hey- hey, you okay?” You asked.
“Yeah- fucking grant. My sister’s a cunt and your boss is a fucking deadbeat who’s trying to make daddy love him.” He said to Jess. He wanted to leave as soon as possible. Connor soon followed Roman as well trying to see if he was okay.
“Rome- hey, relax. She’s just- she’s dealing with her own shit and thinks it funny to make fun of you…” Connor tried to resolve this without being on Shiv’s side.
“Yeah- no. She hates her husband and takes it out on us. Perfectly fine. The wicked fucking bitch of the east thinks she’s funny.” He continued to insult Shiv, despite not being here.
“What’d she say?” You asked. Roman stopped any talk about it being leaked. He was too embarrassed. He especially didn’t need Jess hearing.
“Alright. Come on, it’s been a long night. She’s just…” Connor tried to convince Roman to go back in.
“No- no. Fuck her.” He refused, but after you and Connor settled him down, he felt ready enough to confront Shiv again. All it took was you to boost his ego a bit.
“Don’t let her get to you… Just… uh- go ahead…” You pushed him before making him go back in.
“So, you are in love with him…” Jess whispered. You blew out air, looking up. You looked over at her, shrugging.
“Probably…” You admit to yourself. “I guess I d-“ You said before watching Kendall rush out of the room. What the fuck was going on in that room? They all left the room and waited for Kendall to come back up. You talked to Roman about your plans with him after you left Rava’s. You both needed a break.
“Rome- you alright?” You checked in once more. He nodded, just avoiding Shiv. But Shiv tried to find everyone’s viewpoint before making her own. You watched carefully, hoping she doesn’t upset Roman too harshly.
Shiv proposed they go against Logan and take down Logan. Roman didn’t want to, but sooner became interested in the idea.
Connor sat back with you and Jess, eating the Danish pastries Roman had bought Kendall. “So how long have you and Roman been a thing?” He asked you. You and Jess looked at each other, before you answered.
“Uhh- it’s hard to say… uhhh- maybe like- 3…3 or 4 months. No, yeah. Maybe 4 months. 3.” You weren’t sure. You both were always on and off so it was hard to understand when you were ever on or off. You weren’t sure if you both were on or off right now. Thank god Roman saved you from the conversation, bringing Connor into their debate. But Kendall finally arrived.
All the talk about ‘killing’ dad hurt Roman. It was evident. He didn’t want to admit Logan was as bad as everyone was saying. He wanted to think Logan was better than he was. Kendall made a great point, separating everyone into divisions of leadership, but you were right. This whole thing had a motive. Kendall wanted to be in charge.
“Oh- what was that about Ken caring about victims?” You whispered to Jess. She remained quiet. No one came to an agreement and went to consult whoever they could consult to before regrouping.
Jess got up, answered another house call, and saw a box of donuts being delivered. She looked confused, setting them down. “This has to be some kind of trauma thing. Right?” You asked her as the siblings stared at the box, scared and hypothesized.
“This is dark…” She whispered. Connor inspected and sniffed the donuts, but the kids were debating if it was tampered with.
Kendall thankfully cut the conversation short and tried to keep the others in line. But in result, treating Connor as if he were a child, sent Connor away and forced Connor to decline. Kendall’s ego was too big to let his siblings shine. Or anyone else for that matter.
“Fine. You’re irrelevant.” He insulted Connor, repeating hurtful words as Connor pleaded.
“Ken, shut the fuck up. Grow up.” You couldn’t watch Kendall emotionally abuse Connor.
“Roman, control your little yap dog.” He wouldn’t even acknowledge you.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Just cause I’m telling yo-“ You tried to reason, but Kendall insulted you once more.
“Just because my baby brother wiggles his dick in your face doesn’t mean you have any room to speak.” Kendall struck you with an insensitive comment.
“Woah- Ken…” Jess tried to intervene.
“Okay- fuck you. Don’t do that shit.” Roman defended. “Who’s house are we in? Oh yea- the one who doesn’t love you anymore.” He tried to hurt Kendall back. “Pass. Fuck you dude.”
“Oh what? Because I insulted your personal stripper?” He tried to reason with him.
“Okay Ken, fuck you. Shove it up your fucking dick hole. Come on.” You snapped. But Kendall just went on and on. It just made you uncomfortable. “Roman... Come on. Fuck this. I’m not dealing with a fucking dude who knows his dealer’s number rather than his kids' birthdays. Fucking dead-beat.” You insulted once more before leaving with Roman following behind.
You, Shiv, and Roman sat in a car, Roman reporting to Logan about everything that had gone down. You laid your head on the window, trying to find a moment of peace.
Notes: Please do self-care if you need it. These are some personal experiences, yet dramatized, it is a part of me. Not necessarily the mother portion, but the daddy issues are strong :)
Chapter 18
#roman roy fanfic#roman roy#roman roy x reader#roman roy x you#succession fanfic#kendall roy#hbo succession#succession hbo#succession#shiv roy#siobhan roy#greg hirsch#logan roy#tom wambsgans#connor roy#fanfiction#fanfic#fan fic
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a question, (a promise)
jeryd mencken x f!reader (succession)
wc: 6.1k+
warnings: shitty politician (fictional), swearing, slight dub-con, slight abuse of power, drinking, smut, affairs, workplace relationships, cheating, grinding, thigh riding, fingering (f! receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), clothed sex (m!clothed, f! nude), biting, slight degradation, angst, light dom/sub, no use of y/n
summary: It's been several months since your first meeting with Jeryd Mencken, and many weeks since his involvement with ATN began your work together. What followed was hours of cocky smiles, over confident laughs, and unaddressed tension. Tension that finally snaps due to an party invitation, a vodka martini, and a conveniently empty hotel bar.
authors note: This is a longer one, but I wanted to start out strong for my first fic published on this account! Mencken was such a dick in the show, but I know he'd treat you so right in the bedroom. please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!
You didn’t mean for it to start this way.
Well, you didn’t mean for it to start at all, but if you had to choose a way to a begin an extramarital affair with an infamous American politician and presidential candidate, fucking him against the wall in a hotel room at 1 AM would not be your first choice.
And yet, when those blue-green eyes stared into yours, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, or how his smile-lines wrinkle as he smirks, but you don’t push him away. You don’t tell him to fuck off and run back to your apartment. Instead, gazing up at his face, your questions receding to the back of your mind, you pulled him back in.
You should have found yourself hating him, like Shiv, or maybe enthralled in him, like Roman, but you really felt somewhere in the middle. Your first meeting was in Virginia, at that Future Freedom Summit where Logan was flooded with more attention than the queen for three days straight. You were in the room when he brought Waystar’s CEO a coke, setting it onto his table like a trophy. Maybe it was the casual confidence in his voice, or the way his crisp white button up was rolled to expose his forearms, but you couldn’t help your eyes raking across his back as he left the room.
“That was nice,” Logan had said.
Out of all the words you could use to describe Jeryd Mencken, “Nice” was not one of them. “Bastard,” “Fascist,” “Cocky,” and “Manipulator” all came to mind. But so did “Confident,” “Intelligent,” and “Charismatic.” Don’t get yourself wrong, you didn’t agree with his politics at all. But at the end of the day, you were devoted to Waystar Royco and ATN. And whatever worked for them, worked for you.
You didn’t get to be in the photo that took place the next day, not important or close enough in relation. You lingered to the side, next to your few-times removed cousin, Greg, and out of view of the harsh camera lens. Mencken and you didn’t end up having too much interaction that weekend. A nod of recognition here, a handshake there. But by the time you left the conference, his boisterous laugh was echoing through the halls of your mind, and you just couldn’t stop thinking about his impenetrable gaze.
You remember Roman saying once that Mencken had told him that he “didn’t have a lot of boundaries.” That much became clear to you as you began to work with him. From your very first meeting at ATN, the man didn’t seem to have any issue with discussing personal topics or joking with his employees. You were used to humor in the workplace, I mean, you worked with Kendall and Roman Roy for fuck’s sake, but there was a stark difference in the humor between the Roy siblings and Jeryd Mencken. While their jokes bordered on sexual harassment, Mencken’s were backed by a teasing smirk and a good-natured laugh. You knew it was wrong, or at least weird, to be so enamored by this man. He was a borderline fascist, bible-thumping yuppie, but for some reason you allowed yourself to overlook the obvious flaws in the politician. And soon, you found yourself beginning to fall for his good looks and somewhat sleazy charms
“You’re on in ten, let me know if you need anything.” You popped your head into the conference room where Mencken was waiting. It was his first in-person appearance on ATN, an interview with one of the hosts to help his relatively extreme political agendas seem a bit more palatable to the average viewer. He was surrounded by his team of marketers, campaign managers, and other low to mid-ranking poli-sci majors, a thick stack of papers in front of him and a chorus of open laptops circling the table.
“A kiss for good luck, maybe?” He lifted his head from his reading to give you a half-quirked grin. Nobody else paid you any mind, too engrossed in their work to give a shit about some random woman that probably out-ranks them making sure they’re on task. “I am half Irish, you know.”
“You’re a white American man, of course you’re part Irish. But seriously. Get down to makeup soon, they want to do some touchups before you go on.”
“I don’t need makeup,” he stressed the word need, like it’s so obvious his beautiful face shouldn’t be covered by any cosmetics.
“Nobody needs makeup. It does help though” You lightly rolled your eyes as you stressed the same word as him and laughed at the reaction he displayed before exiting the room, heading to the stage as you pulled out your phone. An incoming text caught your eye, and you clicked off the email you had been reading to view it.
Having a small celebration after the show tonight. Interested in coming? – Jeryd.
It was something small that reminded you of his age, the signing of his name behind the text he sent. As if you didn’t have a contact for the man you’ve been working with for several weeks now. But still, a smile brushed your lips and you responded.
Sure. What time?
10, I’ll send the address.
10? Isn’t that a bit late for your age? I thought you’d be tucked into bed by 8:30.
Haha.
See you soon, Mr. Mencken.
So, at 9:50 pm you found your driver pulling up to the curb outside The Four Seasons hotel in Manhattan. It figures that Mencken would book the most expensive hotel in New York for his stay. You were familiar with the building, having gone to enough work parties in the bar to make your way there without getting lost in the vast expanse of the well-decorated hallways and foyers. Brushing your hair out of your face, you checked your phone again. Refreshing your emails and messages, you had about a dozen new items to read, even though you were off the clock. One thing you learned early on about working in Waystar, the work never really stops.
“Hey, look who showed up,” your attention snapped from the device in your hands to the source of the noise. Your eyes met Jeryd Mencken, whiskey in hand, moving from his spot atop a bar stool towards your direction. His smile was bright, and he was still dressed in his suit from earlier in the day, though now he was missing a tie and a few buttons at the top of his shirt. You noticed his blazer buttons were undone as he opened his arms wide to you.
“Here I am. I know, I know, you missed me.” You replied to his open arms with your own, giving in to the hug he initiated. Your arms circled around his neck and shoulders, his fall to your waist as you held each other for a moment. Maybe it’s the alcohol in his system, but you feel him rest his mouth against the top of your head, placing something close to a kiss on your hair.
“Yeah, I don’t get enough of you during 12-hour workdays. You want a drink?”
“Yeah.” The hug broke away and he smiled down at you, a look which you returned with a bit of reservation. You were far enough into the bar now from moving to meet Mencken that you only had to turn a bit to address the bartender. “Can I get a vodka martini?” A silent nod confirmed your order.
“Walk with me.” Jeryd whispered into the shell of your ear, stooping down a bit to level himself to your height. He offered an arm out to you, and you grabbed on with a hand as the two of you began moving through the crowded bar.
You saw a few familiar faces as you slowly progressed, which you greeted with small smiles and hellos. Mencken was stopped more times than you, something you had learned to accept when with him, but he was hasty in ending conversations as he pulled you through the crowd. It took longer than it should for the two of you to finally arrive at the empty booth in the back of the bar, but you were happy all the same to sit down on the cool red leather seat. He sat across from you, because of course he did, and you heard a small sigh escape his lips as he relaxed a bit against the seat behind him.
Both of you stayed quiet for a moment, just sitting in each other’s presence. There was something thick about the air around the table, something dark in the way he looked at you, eyes never leaving yours. You broke out of the haze as the bartender from earlier set your drink at the table, which you welcomed with an acknowledging smile. As you lifted the drink to your lips, he finally spoke.
“I’m glad you came.” You swallowed thickly, a slight burn grazing your throat before opening your mouth again.
“Well, I had to celebrate your television debut,” you responded with a small teasing smile, he scoffed a bit at your joking.
“The numbers were good.” He said quietly, unwavering eyes still trained to yours. There’s something he’s not saying, you felt it in his short responses and slightly clenched jaw, the way he brought his whiskey glass to his lips and how his empty hand flexed a bit against the dark wood table. You hummed in response, taking another sip of your martini. It was quiet again for a moment, the two of you just staring and drinking, tension building until you broke it.
“Is there something wrong? Did someone fuck something up?” You finally questioned him, shaking your head a bit as you spoke. He just smiled and exhaled through his nose, moved to lean forward and placed his elbows on the table.
“It’s… personal,” he took his time answering, searching for the right word before he spoke. And you think you might have just messed everything up, ruined the unsaid attraction between you two. He hadn’t been one to shy away from personal topics before, you might have just pushed him too far. “But hey, marital issues are basically a rite of passage in the oval office,” he joked with a grin.
“True, it’s probably a sign of your future. Might wanna get used to it,” you matched his tone. You knew it was fucked up to be attracted to a married man, a man currently talking about his troubles with his wife, but something about that smile sent a wave of shock down your stomach and found yourself subtlety squeezing your thighs together beneath your skirt. Regardless, he laughed at your answer, and you smiled at his amusement.
You continued this way for a while, small talk and meaningless conversations just to make each other laugh. You poked fun at his age and he joked about your fucked up family. Around and around you go, drinks are removed and refilled, coworkers stop by for a few minutes before leaving, and others just wave before making their way out. The next time you checked your phone, two hours had passed and more drinks than you probably should have on a near empty stomach had been consumed.
“Shit, I should get going. I have a meeting tomorrow I need to be ready for.” You mumbled a bit, looking down at your screen with cheeks flushed a light red from the alcohol in your system and the presence of Jeryd across from you. The bar was nearly empty by then, and completely devoid of your co-workers. Any last lingering customers were patrons of the hotel, and you were suddenly struck by the realization you were practically alone with him.
“You sure? It’s late, I have a suite on the top floor and the guest bed is empty.” He had lost his suit jacket by then and pushed up his sleeves in the way you loved so much. His arms were open and rested on the top of the booth, elbows slightly bent and hands lightly gesturing as he spoke. You pressed your lips together, biting the bottom one and contemplated. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to stay, didn’t wonder what would happen if you accepted. It was a bad idea, you both knew it, backed by the gold ring on his left hand and the NDA you signed when accepting your job so long ago. Still, he cocked an eyebrow at your silence and beneath the table you felt the toe of his black leather loafers travel up the expanse of your leg. He started at your ankle, just above your designer heels and slowly moved up the inside of your lower leg, beginning to reach the inside of your knee. You had enough time to stop him, to move away, kick his foot away and leave the bar.
But you didn’t. You didn’t want to. So instead, you opened your mouth slightly, your bottom lip slightly wet from your bite to it earlier.
“Yeah, okay. I probably shouldn’t be driving.” It was a half assed excuse and you both knew it. You barely drove, and you’d been dropped off at the hotel today so there was no way you were driving home in the first place. But maybe you needed some justification for yourself, something to make your subconscious just a little less guilty for what you were about to do. For what you wanted to do.
Mencken didn’t press, though. He just nodded, tapping his toe lightly on the inside of your thigh before retracting it to stand up. The loss was sudden and a bit jarring, and it made you notice that you had been subtly leaning into his touch. He put back on his jacket, not bothering to roll down his sleeves as he moved beside the table to help you up, extending a hand to you. Slowly, you reached up and gently placed your hand in his. His skin was surprisingly rough for a man who worked a desk job, you could feel calluses on his palms and the tips of his fingers. He pulled some of your weight as you stood, reaching around with your free hand to smooth the back of your skirt and grab the handles of your small purse. When you met his eyes again, his pupils had grown and a smirk had landed on his otherwise stoic face.
“Lead the way,” you spoke so softly that your lips barely moved, your eyes looking up at him through dark lashes. He nodded again. His eyes dragged over the curves of your body before briefly returning to your eyes. As you began walking, your hand rose from clutching his to softly holding his arm just above the bend in his elbow. You maintained just enough distance between your bodies that the interaction could be passed off as polite, not the breaking point of months of unresolved sexual tension that it was. Mencken walked fast, you almost tripped over your feet a few times as you tried to keep pace with him. The halls were ornate, outfitted in marble flooring that left your shoes clacking frantically with your hurried steps.
The pair of you stopped briefly at the entrance to the elevators, and you took the time to quickly glance over your shoulder behind you, finding the room otherwise empty. You weren’t sure whether you should be relieved or disappointed. Relieved for a lack of witnesses. Disappointed that you couldn’t use a crowd as an excuse to call off the encounter. It would be for the better to forget about it, put the flirtations to an end and abort the budding affair. You were putting your job at risk, your credibility and your public image. Not to mention your relationship with your family.
He pressed the elevator button once, twice, three times. You opened your mouth slightly, the beginnings of a sentence forming on your lips when he moved his arm from your grasp, snaking it around your back to rest on your hip. He pressed the fabric of your skirt gently, and you found your side pressing against his. Warmth radiated through your body, going straight to your cheeks as a subtle blush started to grow. Your mouth was left hanging open, silently gasping for air as he delicately traced his lips in a small line over your hair. His large nose pressed into your scalp, you felt him slowly inhale the scent of your shampoo. The moment was the closest thing to tender you’ve ever experienced from him, and it’s over just after it starts.
A loud ding from the elevator dragged your attention from the feeling of Jeryd to the empty elevator in front of you. You looked from him to the space before you. He was watching you, of course. Waiting for your next move. Either into the elevator and a time of lies and careful discretion, or back to what you knew was safe.
You walked into the elevator.
The second the hotel door clicks shut, Jeryd is on you. Pressing your back into the nearest wall, his hands cradle your face with a surprising amount of care. His knee slots between your legs and he takes a moment to just look at you. Your chest rises and falls quickly, mouth open and eyes blown wide with passion.
“Tell me you want this.” He breathes into you.
“What?” You gasp out the question, mind too foggy with desire to quickly process his words.
“Tell me you want this. I need to hear it from you.” His hands move from cupping your face to grab your chin, your lips slightly pouting with the pressure on your skin. The air is silent for a moment before you answer.
“I want this. I want you.”
The words have barely left your mouth before it's covered by his, greedy and heavy and passionate. You move with him, slinging your arms around his shoulders and leaning into his touch. His tongue taps at your bottom lip before entering your mouth, tracing lines on the roof of it. You let out a quiet moan and his knee moves up between your thighs, granting you a source of friction for the heat building between your legs. You grind down on it unabashedly, sighing at the sensation that results. Jeryd smiles against your lips before moving one of his hands from your face to your hip, encouraging the movements you’re making against his leg. A whimper escapes your lips and he groans at the noise, your attention moving to the growing bulge you feel pressed into your lower stomach.
He kisses you like a man starved. Like he could do it forever, just savoring the flavor of your lips. You move a hand from his shoulder to feel down the front of his chest and reach his crotch. Your fingers press lightly against the seam of his pants, rubbing the fabric just enough to earn a low growl from Jeryd’s throat and a restrained buck of his hips. His lips move from yours to travel down your neck, sucking your skin hard enough to leave bruises that’ll last the week. Your lips part when freed from his kiss and your neck falls slightly to the slide, allowing him more access to the small area not covered by your button up, office appropriate blouse. A small nip of his teeth causes you to squeeze the hand covering his groin, a movement that causes Jeryd to muffle a deep moan into the slope of your neck.
“Fuck.” You sound wrecked, desperate, needy, and Jeryd’s barely touched you. You’re rolling your hips steadily now, too far gone to worry about his reaction. Pencil skirt hiked up, skin-toned stockings on display, you selfishly chase your own climax. Eyes flutter shut as you focus on the sensations enveloping your body. Jeryd’s wet kisses trailing down your neck, his hands possessive on your hips and chin, his leg sandwiched between your thighs and pressing roughly against your core. Two thin layers of fabric separating you, both providing a deliciously coarse texture against your sensitive clit. Your panties are soaked, you wouldn’t be surprised if his slacks are left with a wet mark when he removes them.
His hands move from their places to begin undoing the buttons on your top. Your eyes open with heavy lids as you watch him. He’s hurried, urgent, his brows slightly furrowed and his lips parted while his fingers move nimbly, making quick work of your blouse. You move to help him, together pushing the garment off your shoulders. He bends his knees slightly to level his face to your chests, and you momentarily whine at the loss of pressure against your vulva, but the sight your eyes are greeted with is worth it. His hands are immediately on your breasts, cupping you roughly through your bra and pushing your tits together as he plants sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your cleavage. It’s odd to see him like this, slightly bent over, serving someone other than himself and enjoying it. Hair ruffled and forehead damp with sweat, pupils blown wide, wide, wide, with lust. You thread your fingers through his salt and pepper hair, not pulling or controlling, just wanting to touch him.
The throbbing between your legs increases and your thighs clench together with nothing else to stimulate your core. You whimper, he chuckles at the sound, a vibration traveling through your chest and sending electric shocks straight to your center. Jeryd reaches up, moving the straps of your bra down your shoulders, not bothering to move his face from his attack on your breasts. You push it down to your waist, not bothering to unclasp the back, fully exposing your tits to him. Now he pauses, taking a moment to crouch down and sit back a bit on his heels, eyes focused on your body before him. Your immediate reaction is to cover up, but you hold yourself back when his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. When he finally meets your gaze, you're sure you must look wrecked, at least if his smirk is anything to go off of.
“Look at you. So eager for my touch.” Jeryd speaks quietly, getting closer to you as his hands travel up your thighs to rest on the dip of your hips. His fingers dig in slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to control you and dimple your skin underneath his touch. One hand comes up, kneading the flesh of your left breast. The other moves to unclip your bra from behind you, letting it softly fall to the floor. You nod and bite your lower lip, knees knocked together as your thighs rub against each other, desperately chasing some kind of stimulation. Your eyes drop his gaze as you watch him palm your skin.
“Please..” You whine out, blushing as you make eye contact again. Mencken laughs, only a little mean, takes your nipple between his fingers and pinches enough to make your voice squeak in your throat.
“If you want something you have to ask for it.” He cocks an eyebrow as he speaks and you swear you’re drooling at the look in his eye. You hesitate a minute before responding, feeling strangely self conscious and filthy.
“Please touch me, Jeryd. I need you.” He smiles and curses before returning his mouth to your breasts. A large hand creeps between your thighs, pressing gently on the soaked fabric of your panties. He speaks into your skin as he feels your need.
“So wet for me already. I wouldn’t have kept you waiting if I’d known how desperate you were.” His touch is feather light, and you feel your cunt clenching at the sensation. His hand doesn’t wait long, hooking your panties to the slide before he begins to slide his middle finger through your sopping wet folds. Your hips buck against his touch, he responds by moving a hand to pin your hip against the wall. Your head is thrown back now, resting against the surface behind you. Blush is hot on your face, you can’t figure out if it’s caused by shame, or desire, or the combination of both.
It’s not long before his fingers are gently probing your entrance, his middle digit entering you up to his second knuckle. You clench around him, moaning at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you. His thumb moves to your clit, spreading your wetness there as he massages small circles into the bundle of nerves. Instinctively, you try to move, try to grind down on his palm and take what you want. Jeryd’s hand keeps your back to the wall though, and he tsks at your disobedience. Your eyes move down and you find him staring back at you. You wonder if he’s ever looked away, or if he’s just been relishing in your desperation.
His finger presses deeper, your folds met with the skin of his first knuckle. He curves the digit, gently pressing against that spongy tissue deep inside of you. When he finds it, he smirks, looks down at your exposed mound and briefly presses a kiss to your upper stomach. The finger moves, thrusting in and out of your cunt a few times before being joined by his index finger. It stretches just a bit, before the sensation is replaced by one of building pleasure. That heat you’ve been chasing courses through your core, your lips parting at the feeling. Shocks of pleasure course down your thighs as your clit becomes more and more sensitive.
You were slightly shocked when your legs began to shake, kness almost buckling under the jerky motion. It normally took you much longer to climax when with a partner, but you had been so needy for so long that your orgasm was approaching at a rapid speed. Jeryd felt it too, wrapping a free arm around the back of your hips to help hold you up while your cunt clenches and flutters around his fingers.
“Come on, Cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel.” He whispers, leaning his upper body back slightly to look deeply into your eyes. You barely hear him over the filthy sounds of wet skin and your increasingly loud moans. His words have to register somewhere though, and just a few seconds after he utters the command, you obey. Eyes roll back while you constrict around his fingers, gasps of air leaving your throat. Jeryd is relentless, finger fucking you through your orgasm until you’re overstimulated and practically pushing his hand away.
Your eyes haven’t even opened again when you feel him stand and crash his lips crash back into yours, his hands raking through your hair. Unhindered by his grip, you move your arms to press him against you, rolling your hips into his.You groan in unison, and Jeryd takes the moment to move one of his hands to the back of your skirt, quickly unzipping it. Your grip releases for a moment to push the skirt and your panties down your legs, kicking them off your heels further into the room. Neither of you bothers with your thigh high stockings or shoes, too engrossed in the feeling of your exposed skin to pay them any mind.
The pair of you separate for a moment. Jeryd’s eyes travel down your body, a curse escaping his lips at the sight. You look vulnerable, powerless under him. He loves it. His lips go back to your throat and his hands reach for your breasts again. In turn, your hands fumble with a few buttons on his shirt, exposing the top of his chest before you abandon the garment and travel down to the seam of his pants. Your fingers linger on the zipper. Asking for permission or readying yourself or wanting him to tell you what to do, it doesn’t matter. All that matters in this moment is Jeryd Mencken and the passion burning through both your bodies.
He nods against your neck and you waste no time in undoing the button and zipper of his slacks. His boxers are black, your fingers flutter under the elastic waistband, stroking the soft skin there lightly. Your hand dips lower, past the mass of short blond pubic hair climbing up his lower stomach, settling on the base of his cock. Slowly, you begin to pump his length. When you reach his tip you dip your fingernail slightly into the slit there, and Jeryd rolls his hips forward in response with a loud groan. A wide smile graces your face, your hand surging faster in his boxers.
“Fuck, take it out.” He traces his nose up the side of your neck, whispering into the shell of your ear. Of course you comply, how could you not? Your eyes dart down to his cock, getting your first good look at the skin there. He’s an average thickness but long, longer than you’ve taken before. With a slight curve upwards and a pink tip dripping with pre-cum, you clench around emptiness in sympathy. Your hand moves again, jerking him off as his head falls back and his eyes shut. You savor the sight before you.
Jeryd’s eyebrows are raised and his lips are parted, completely and totally lost in his pleasure. His neck now exposed to you, you lean forward and press kisses along the underside of his jawline, trailing down to his Adam's apple. You’re careful not to leave marks, even if you nip a little at the sensitive skin that your lips brush. His eyes open again, and he grins at the coy smile on your face. He kisses you again, his tongue stroking the roof of your mouth, causing you to moan loudly into his lips before he pulls away.
“Here, wrap your legs around me. I’m gonna fuck you right next to this door, let the rest of the hotel hear how loud my cock makes you.” He moves against you, pressing his hips to yours, slotting his arms around your waist. You wrap a leg around the back of his hips before he helps hoist you up to wrap the other. His length is hard against your lower stomach, the tip spreading wet precum across the skin there. Your hand moves down, grasping it and pumping a few more times when Jeryd moves his hips back, creating enough space between you for his tip to brush against your folds.
He tilts his hips again, rubbing himself across your pussy, catching on your clit just enough to make you rock your core forward to try and meet him. A breathy laugh escapes his mouth at your attempt, he rewards your debauchery by circling his hand around his base and roughly tapping his tip against the bundle of nerves. You sigh and let your head fall back, watching him move with heavily lidded eyes. Jeryd moves again, using his hand to position himself at your entrance. He teases you a bit, slightly shifting in and out without fully sheathing his cock inside of you.
“Jeryd…” Your voice is whiney as you speak, but still carries an edge of warning with it. He just smiles that lopsided grin of his, takes a deep breath in, and presses fully into you.
There’s a slight stretch as you adjust to his length, you can’t help your mouth falling open in ecstasy at the feeling. As he bottoms out, he releases his breath with a groan and you feel his tip brush against your cervix. You’re needy and wanton, whimpering and moaning at his every twitch, wiggling your hips to try and get some relief as he keeps himself deep inside your cunt. His face is tucked into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You feel your entire being aching for him. Another mewl escapes your lips, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. He’s waiting for you to break first. So you do.
“Please fuck me.” Your voice is barely a whisper, your hands traveling to cup his chin. Jeryd surges forward, even deeper into your dripping pussy, and kisses you roughly on the mouth. He bites your lower lip, slightly pulling it with him as he moves away, and your hands find their place again on his shoulders. His hips move back, so far that his length almost slips out of you, before thrusting forward. He sets a brutal pace from the beginning. Hard and fast, pulling noises you didn’t know you could make from the depths of your throat. It almost hurts at the beginning, but then he tilts his hips and finds that spot inside of you, the one that lights a roaring fire inside your cunt. The pleasure is immense and all consuming, the only thing you can focus on as your head drops backward and your back begins to arch.
You don’t even recognize half the words leaving your throat. Strings of “please,” curses and mumbles come from your mouth, joined by the animalistic grunts and groans of Jeryd’s approaching climax. Your fingers tangle in his hair and this time you pull, earning a deep moan from his parted lips. The sex feels primal and wanton and borderline violent. The culmination of heavy pressure. A cord stretched as tight as possible and then some, the snapping of which caused depravity and perversion for all those involved.
He grinds into you roughly, hitting your g spot perfectly with every thrust. Your hand moves down to rub frantic circles into your clit, repeatedly murmuring a line of “yes”’s as you stare deeply into Jeryd's eyes. You know you’re pathetic. Begging and pleading him to fuck you harder, the wet slick from your cunt spreading onto both of your thighs, causing truely obscene sounds to fill the air.
“Fuck, look at you. My pretty little slut..” He groans out, punctuating his words with strong bucks of his hips. “Cum on my cock, you’re fucking mine” he says, adding your name like it’s a divine word.
That's all it really takes, and with a particularly perfect movement of your fingers, you clench down on his cock in a harsh climax. You swear you see white for a moment, your toes curling in your heels, your back arching up from the wall behind you, the moan coming out of your mouth echoing around the hotel room. All you can do next is hold on as Jeryd’s hips stutter and his mouth comes down to bite on your exposed shoulder as he follows you to his own peak.
He spills inside of you, fucking his cum further into you while he thrusts through his own orgasm. A “fuck” falls from his lips, muffled by the skin his mouth is pressed into. You stay like that for a minute, heavily breathing and coated in sweat, his softening cock still inside of you. When you finally move away, he’s surprisingly careful. Setting you back down on your feet delicately before tucking himself back away. Your hands come up to instinctively cover yourself, feeling insecure now that he wasn’t actively fucking you. His hand grabs one of yours, removing it from its position in front of your breast as he steps closer to you. You speak first, quietly and full of question.
“I can go…” you look behind him for your clothing strewn across the carpeted floor.
“No. Stay the night, I meant it.” Jeryd pulls you into him, his larger form tucking around your body in a hug. He rests his chin on your head. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you go so quickly. Not after I’ve waited so long to have you.”
You smile at that, let him press a kiss to the top of your head before he grabs your hand and begins leading you to the bedroom.
He’s passionate and possessive and caring and mean. You live in the shadows together, wrapped in deceit and white bed sheets. You never comment on the lack of his gold wedding band, and he never mentions the taste of vodka on your tongue. Your fights are brutal and sadistic, always ending in sex that would make the bed shake and leave your bodies sore for days after. It’s more of an alliance than an affair. It’s more of a tragedy than a comedy.
It’s more of a promise than a question.
© secondhand-snow 2024
#ao3#fanfic#fanfiction#succession#succession fanfic#justin kirk#jeryd mencken#jeryd mencken x reader#jeryd mencken x you#jeryd mencken x ofc#jeryd mencken x oc#jeryd mencken fic#jeryd mencken smut#jeryd mencken imagine#snow’s fics#smut
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