#roman roy fluff
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hell, yeah ; series masterlist.
pairing ; roman roy x f!reader
series synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.
wc ; 105.3k and counting!
themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers
warnings / includes ; drugs, alcohol, depictions of abuse, mentions of death, hospitals, a lot of sexual jokes and general foul language, sexual situations, reader is logan's goddaughter, a lot of business talk, roman being an asshole, emotional constipation
main masterlist.
chapter one.
“Jump, you fuckin’ pussy!” exclaimed Roman, though he was quick to shut his mouth when his therapist flung himself into the pool face-first.
chapter two.
“I’m supposed to slip this under your pillow while you’re sleeping, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me get up for the rest of the night,” you whispered, crawling back to him and throwing a leg over his waist. He curled his own legs around you as well, leaning his weight into you. His head throbbed, his jaw throbbed harder, his heart throbbed the most.
chapter three.
“We were kids,” you mumbled tiredly. Blurry memories of leering, smoking men and jaunty laughter crossed your mind. “How could I have known?”
chapter four.
Kendall’s expression seemed to soften, recalling how the two of you would always argue over the last remaining strawberry popsicle during the summers you were still little children. When you would grab it from the freezer before he could, he’d tug on your pigtails and call you mean as you denied ever taking them, and you’d hide the wrappers in Rome’s room so he’d never know it was you. But he could always tell from the sticky red on the corners of your mouth and your sugar-highs that seemed to last for a little too long.
chapter five.
“Dad,” Roman said, disrupting the eerie, tense silence. “Please?” He was a child asking for a dog again. He was a teenager asking to come home from military school again. He was a young adult asking for his dad to stop hitting him again.
chapter six.
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.
chapter seven coming soon!
#roman roy x reader#roman roy fanfiction#roman roy fluff#roman roy series#roman roy ff#roman roy smut#roman roy angst#roman roy x you#roman roy fanfic#succession roman x reader#succession roman#roman roy#succession fanfiction#succession x reader#roman roy imagine
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fucked my way up to the top
roman roy x reader
synopsis: the recent shroud of attention towards the roys lands a spotlight on you, causing you to question your marriage
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the public didn’t favor you as a roy wife. you were labeled a gold digger, virtually nobody, a poison, a cancer. it didn’t matter that your own family was rich and prosperous. not as public as the roy family was, but respected in their industry.
you had grown up with roman, for a few brief summers at least. neighboring his summer home with your grandfather’s, you’d find yourself sneaking away at odd hours to visit the sullen boy.
after losing touch, you had reconnected with the youngest roy son at a business conference that you had accompanied your father to. he was impossible to shake off after, and soon you found yourself walking down the aisle.
but your relationship behind closed doors was extremely unconventional. in the year you’ve been married to roman, you never had sex. you came close once, on your wedding night, but nothing else since. you understood him the most, and his issues with intimacy. you’d wait around for him as long as he needed, because you loved him.
you loved him more than anyone else in his life, and he didn’t know why.
roman was still roman, in the best way he knew how to be. he’ll make inappropriate comments at you in professional settings, defending it with “she’s my wife!”, or sticking his hands down your pants whenever he got cold. you never really understood his methods, but it was affection nonetheless.
although you had a history with corporate america, you wouldn’t deny that your marriage to roman had sped up your career. only because roman has insisted that you work alongside him. it was either that or not work at all.
so the media, in the raging shit storm that kendall had started, had picked you and your marriage as the weakest link, attacking you in many headlines. twitter had been worse, causing you a mild headache for weeks.
roman had assured you’d that it would all blow over, that as long as you both knew the truth, that nothing else mattered.
but it did. everything mattered.
“hey ro-“ he had answered your call before the second ring. he sounded breathless, but you could hear the bustling office environment over the phone. there was the sound of leather, assuming he moved to sit.
you looked at yourself in the mirror, giving yourself one last look before walking over to the door, “i just wanted to call and remind you that i’m going out.”
roman made a noise over the phone, “ughhhh- that’s tonight?” he looked at his watch, checking the time, “right. that’s fine, yeah.”
“ro?” you asked, a smile on your face as you heard him hum in response. “i wasn’t asking if it was fine. remember what we talked about?”
roman sighed, rolling his eyes slightly as he leaned back in his chair, “that you’re my wife, not my property…”
you laughed, “when you put it like that it sounds awful. whatever roy, i’ll see you later.” he could hear the clicking of the apartment lock, you were already leaving.
“okay, bye bye now sweetie!” he mocked an elderly lady with his tone before hanging up quickly.
on nights you’d go out with friends, roman wouldn’t go home. he would eventually find his way home around two or three am, but only because you’d call to let him know you were going home. there was no point of being home if you weren’t there.
he had done it once, but there had been a pit in his stomach the entire time. as if he was doing something wrong.
he had heard the apartment door click, and his head turned from the random late night news channel to the door. you were standing there, wavering slightly as you stepped forward.
“baby-“ you slurred, and immediately roman stood up. he walked towards you, and a sheet of concern washed over his face. “i’m sorry baby, i know how much you hate it when i drink.” you grabbed onto roman’s shoulder, hand clutching him as you tried to steady yourself.
roman scoffed, “when did i say that?” his tone turned defensive, but mainly confused.
you shrugged, “i know you do.” you let go of him and stepped towards the couch, “you get in that mood.” you had meant to sit down, but you found yourself on your back instead. you closed your eyes, swallowing thickly, “you pull away.” roman scoffed again, “y/n, im right here.” his hand grazed your face as he leaned over you. he rested on the couch’s edge, but you couldn’t keep your eyes on him.
“no- it’s not like that. everytime i want to,” you faltered, and roman inhaled sharply, “it’s like you shut down. and we’ve danced around it for almost a year and-“ your words slurred slightly but roman had understood you perfectly.
“what do you want me to say? hmm? that i don’t want to fuck you?” he got off the couch and stood up, “do you want a divorce? is that it? since we didn’t fuck you can probably get a good deal out of that, you should go fucking try it!” roman didn’t know where this anger was coming from, but he felt it come out like word vomit. and he couldn’t stop.
tears escaped your eyes and you sniffled, feeling your face heat up with embarrassment. “no- i don’t want a divorce, roman.” you shook your head as you cried, wishing the couch could swallow you up.
roman continued to spit more words at you, but you cried harder. “i just want my husband to touch me! i want to be desired- to be loved!” you shouted, words overtaking his.
“i want you every minute of every day. i wake up with you on my mind, even when you’re asleep next to me i want you. i fucking want you, so bad.” his voice dropped and he stared down at you.
you shifted your eyes over to him, and tried to stand up. roman noticed what you were doing and took your hand, pulling you up.
“have me, roman. have me and never let me go.” your arms draped around his neck, pulling him into you. you leaned into him, and kissed him roughly. roman felt himself hitch a breath before pulling away.
“i cant.” your hands dropped from his collar and you stared, speechless. “i want to, y/n. but i-“
you pushed past him, not letting him finish as you tried to stumble towards the door. “you’re a fucking coward.” you slurred, tears muddling your vision. you fumbled for the door handle, “i never want to see you again! you hear me! i hate you!” you stomped a foot as you struggled more for the door. “fuck!” you cried out, feeling defeat and heartbreak wash over you in an instant.
this feeling was crippling. closing your eyes as you slid down in defeat. you couldn’t fight anymore, you didn’t have it in you. your husband didn’t stay to linger, slipping away quietly.
the separation was taking its toll. it was starting to get noticeable to those around you. you had wished for space from roman, who had hesitated but obliged. his only request was that his family doesn’t know, and so far, they hadn’t.
but little things, questions regarding the other had raised a few flags. kendall had asked about you once, bringing up the question to roman on your whereabouts. roman had lied and said he had just seen you in your office, but kendall knew you weren’t even in the building. or when shiv had texted you to ask if you’d be joining the family to scotland, but you had to play off your absence with a separate work trip. when in reality you had no idea that roman would even leave the country.
shiv knew something was off. she was finding roman more intolerable by the day. he was more disheveled, prone to outbursts, constantly on the defensive, and it definitely had to do with you. you were his happy little pill.
as much as you wanted to keep the secret, roman made it difficult. he rarely ever saw you anymore, and he would often exclude you from meetings regarding family or work. you didn’t mind at first, until it started affecting your work. you’d have to talk to him about it, eventually.
logan had called for a meeting in his office. usually big meetings with all of the roys and close workers meant bad things. typically you’d stay out of these things and find out from roman. but you had no roman to come home to anymore, and you’d have to learn how to fight for yourself sooner rather than later.
you were the third one to arrive. kendall was already perched beside his father. you admired kendall for his ability to resurrect himself and crawl back under his father’s thumb. you respected him, but not lately. greg and tom were also in the room. their little duo was dangerous, you’ve warned roman to watch out for them.
“y/n!” tom stood up from his seat, awkwardly hugging you. you stiffened in his arms and pulled back with an awkward smile, “tom. didn’t know we did that!” your eyes slid to logan and kendall, who seemed as equally as surprised by your presence.
“sir.” you looked at your father-in-law, who’s eyes shone at you, “y/n. what a delightful surprise.” he kept his tone even, but you still smiled nonetheless.
kendall had his wits about him, for once. “what changed?” he squinted his eyes at you and you laughed slightly, “it’s nice to see you too, ken.”
just as you turned, you heard a whistle at the door, ���where is everyone? you said at 11:30 right?” roman looked down at his watch before looking up, eyes settling on your face.
you hadn’t expected to see him so face to face, for the first time in weeks. he looked away slightly, cracking another irrelevant joke before walking over to a chair.
he didn’t even greet you, and that didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else. more and more flooded in, and you couldn’t stop the pounding feeling in your head even as the conversation began.
“roman!”
logan’s shout had broken you out of your daze. you blinked, eyes narrowing on the clock as you realized thirty minutes had passed. you had missed most of the meeting, and seemingly caught the end. but this wasn’t just any end, this was logan handing your husband his own ass.
you listened to roman get chewed out. you weren’t in the loop to roman’s work, and you felt lost.
logan’s insults turned into abuse. you felt your mouth go dry as you stood up, words spilling out of your mouth in roman’s defense.
you didn’t know what you had done until it was done. you were locked in a stare with logan, who was in disbelief at your outburst. you felt you face heat up and you inhaled sharply. logan didn’t say anything, but kendall had waved his hands, “alright. let’s just- end it here.” he shifted his gaze over to you but you didn’t meet his eyes.
roman stared at you, from across the room in his chair. you blinked, words faltering as you stared at him.
you didn’t bother apologizing as you excused yourself, practically running down the hall to shut yourself away.
there was a soft knock at your door. roman. it had to be roman. you felt your chest heavy with pressure as you stood up, walking over to your door. you unlocked it, but hesitated as you pulled it open.
“yes?” you peeked out, beads of sweat lining your forehead. your eyes met his and roman stared at you, “let me in.” he nodded to the door and you hitched a breath, opening the door as you stepped back.
“ro-“ without another word you threw yourself into his arms. he grabbed you tightly, reciprocating your need for affection.
“i’m so sorry.” you choked out, “i’m so fucking sorry.” you knew logan had a difficult relationship with his son, and this didn’t help any of it. logan must hate you now.
roman shook his head, “fuck that. fuck that old ass guy. it’s okay, you-“ he pulled back and you felt his lips on your cheek, “you know i would’ve done that for you.”
you hugged him tightly, and hoped this warmth would last.
#roman roy x reader#roman roy angst#roman roy fluff#roman roy smut#roman roy x you#roman roy succession#succession fanfic#succession x reader#succession hbo#succession#roman roy
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I like the way you make me feel (about you, baby).
gif creds @/cassandrahoward
pairing. roman roy x reader
wc. ~700
genre. fluff
just a morning before work with roman roy
tags. NO beta, english isn't my first language // established relationship, roman's low self-esteem makes a very subtle appearance, suggestive (one line), mentions of roman's slutty waist (literally)
a/n. i love him your honor, thats it. i was also gonna add that for some reason i seem to be keen of writing intimate scenes inside bathrooms but that come outs...weirder than it is lol ANYWAY i hope u enjoy !!
“I have a what?”
You could see the furrow of his brows through the mirror. It made you bite back a giggle, hiding the cheeky smile on your lips behind his shoulder.
“A slutty waist.” you mumbled against his work shirt, pulling him tighter against you. It was impossible not to interrupt his morning routine when he wore those shirts and those pants and when he looked way too good for your own good. Which, to be fair, was more often than not. Regardless, there was something about him in the mornings, when his tie laid over his shoulders unknotted and his hair fell over his forehead free of gel.
“Uh…thanks?” He looked baffled while making eye contact, and you only broke it when he shook his head, your eyes teetering upwards to see his profile. “Between the two of us, I always thought you were the slut but oh well-“
“That's not how it works!” You laughed, slapping his shoulder lightly. He pulled your arms tighter around him gently, missing the pressure around his body when you stepped backwards.
It felt good for you too. Feeling the warmth of him after fighting your way out under the comforter made up for being woken up at 6 in the morning by his alarm.
“Well,” interrupting himself as his fingers fought the silk of his tie into a knot. “I don’t want to be the only one that's getting slut-shamed.”
“I didn’t call you a slut, I called your waist slutty.”
“Oh, so you’re slut-shaming my waist, same difference.” He scoffed, basking in the way you rolled your eyes as you turned his body to face you.
He wanted to complain as your arms snaked away from his waist but held back once he felt your fingers pick up both ends of his tie. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was some sort of weaponized incompetence or actual incompetence that didn’t allow him to tie it properly by himself. A mix of both, probably, but you always did it better than him.
Plus, if he had to access some weird part of his brain, then he’d have to admit he quite liked it when you let it get tighter than usual before loosening it up.
“You say that as if you’ve never slut-shamed me.” You joked, pretending not to notice how he shivered when your fingers grazed his neck as you flipped the collar.
“I don't slut-shame you, I slut-praise you.” Smirking as if trying to hide the effect you had on him, he quipped back. His attempt fell flat though. He swallowed down hard when you finished the loop of the tie with a gentle yet firm tug before smoothing it out.
“In that case, I’m praising your slutty waist too.” You let your hands trail down his chest until your grip rested on his hips. Gentle as always, your touch felt all too warm. The mushiness of being tired, you supposed. He thought so too as you pulled him closer, “And I’ll keep doing so because I think you’re,” and placed a gentle kiss against his and then hovering, intertwining each word with another. “beautiful and hot and gorgeous and breathtakingly stunning—“
“Oh fuck off, get out of here.” He broke into a bashful smile, cheeks tinted pink as you punctuated your affection with a kiss on his cheek.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty.” You sighed, pushing yourself off him to let him get ready, though not before lingering against the door frame. “I’m gonna make coffee, you want some?”
He chuckled, “You know we have people to do that, right?”
“I know,” you shrugged, “but I enjoy making some for you.”
You didn’t need verbal confirmation from him. Knowing the answer had grown into a pleasant habit, the same way picking the coffee he liked and using the same brand of low-fat milk had.
You closed the door with a lovesickness unlike any dripping from a smile of your own. And if he had to access an even darker, twisted and weirder part of his brain, as he had done before, he would struggle to admit that the way you cared made him feel awfully warm, like hinting to the despair that gnawed at the back of his head that he wasn’t as unlovable as he thought.
#roman roy x reader#roman roy x you#roman roy fluff#roman roy#succession#succession fanfiction#roman roy imagine#succession imagine
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Roman Roy x Shiv's Best Friend!Reader Headcanons (Succession Request)
Pairing: Roman Roy x Shiv's Best Friend Reader
Rating: Fluff
Word Count: 1.6k
Request: "Hi! If you’re still writing for succession, can I suggest headcanons for dating Roman while your shiv’s best friend? No pressure of course!!"
Author's Note: Celebrating his win this week, here's some headcanons for Roman Roy falling in love with his sister's best friend 🥰
- No matter how much time passes, Roman can still vividly remember the first time he saw you. It was a Tuesday afternoon, shrouded in monotony and teenage angst, sat at the dining table closely guarded by a tutor who'd been hired to make sure he got at least a passing grade to finish high school with. Despite being nowhere in sight he could still feel the oppressive judgement of his father breathing down his neck as he struggled to understand the notes laid out in front of him, the frustrations rising inside him and threatening to spill out in tears as his tutor joked that 'this should be easy!' Then the sweet sound of laughter cut through the pressure and the noise, like a windchime chirping out the loveliest tune in the middle of a storm, whipping his head around to find the source.
- It had taken two weeks of pleading and a thorough background check, but Shiv had finally been allowed to have a friend over to the house. You had been her classmate for years, but as you both readied yourselves to head off to the same college next year, you two had grown that much closer, your friendship cemented as you planned parallel lives on that first step into adulthood. Your first time visiting her stately home you found yourself pulling your school blazer more tightly around your shoulders, the echoing fortress sending a chill through you, its classy interior feeling hollow and uneasy. As you drifted through winding corridors Shiv led you into a grand dining hall, throwing her designer bag on one end of the oak table and saying you two could finish your homework here before you go upstairs to her room.
Despite the tutor's protest that Roman needed all the concentration he could muster, Shiv only laughed and set about teasing her brother for his supposed incompetence. Despite only a few months difference in your age, he looked so small to you, younger and more vulnerable, like he hadn't quite stopped being a little boy yet even as he strived to become a man.
"I remember that module from last year - don't feel bad, it took me ages to understand it all. You'll get there." You threw him a soft smile as you pulled your own folders from your bag, earning a scoff from Shiv and a hopeful look from Roman. Your gentle kindness seemed to lift his spirits and take the weight off his shoulders, the rest of his afternoon spent throwing desperate glances your way, mentally pleading for you to stick around and smile his way again.
- You and Shiv only grew closer as you shared a college dorm, more often than not visiting her during the holidays and giving her an ally in the misogynistic environment she called home. Each time you visited, Roman had grown up a little more, transforming from that meek boy to a young man who at least considered himself charming, even if that wasn't exactly what anyone else thought. You always found that no matter how confidently he drifted into the seat next to yours, catching up in easy conversation as old friends do, you couldn't help but still see a flicker of that sad, scared boy you had first met in his eyes, a part of him seeming to never really heal from whatever a childhood spent as a Roy entails.
- You and Shiv had so many milestones passed side by side, so in turn Roman was there to celebrate you with each one. It was hard to tell whether he applauded you or Shiv more loudly as you walked across the graduation stage, and when you landed on the first step of your chosen career ladder, the biggest gift basket you recieved was proudly signed 'Love, Roman.' He was there with a housewarming gift when you got your first apartment, a bouquet of flowers for every birthday, and all the while insisted he'd do the same for any of his old friends.
- His lack of subtlety made it easy for you and Shiv to deduce his true feelings, your best friend slightly disgusted by the thought of anyone dating her little brother, but the softest part of her knew you'd make him happier than anyone else could, two decades of friendship a testament to your positive impact on the lives of those you cared about. And after a few less than successful romances with big city executives who couldn't stop bragging about what they brought to the table, you couldn't help but enjoy the thought of spending more time on the receiving end of Roman's loving gaze.
- And so you put yourself out there, accompanying Shiv into the Waystar building on a Friday afternoon and giving Roman an overwhelming rush when you tapped lightly on the glass door of his office, giving him the same sweet smile you had offered him in consolation all those years ago. The advantage of a glass office was that you could clearly see the way he bolted upright in his chair, running his fingers through his hair as he awkwardly half-jogged to the door and flung it open with more force than he intended.
"Fuck, hey! What are you doing here? Do you need me to help you find Shiv?" He seemed almost out of breath as he spoke, voice wavering in pitch, trying to get a hold of himself.
"Actually I came to see you. I wanted to know if you were free for dinner tonight?"
"Like me, you, Shiv, maybe Ken?" His forehead creased as he spoke, frowning at the uncomfortable flips his stomach was executing in return for your eye contact.
"No, just the two of us? Like a date." You clarified, watching the gears turn in his head as if the request he'd so often fantasized about making didn't actually make sense when uttered aloud. Finally the penny dropped along with his jaw, his eyes growing wide and wild as he nodded in silence, unable to conjure the words he needed for once in his life. Taking pity on him, you spoke again, "Cool, what time do you finish here?" As you gestured to the desk behind him, you seemed to remind him of where he was - in his work place, in plain view, stuttering and tripping over himself for all to see. That wouldn't do.
"Uh - i'm done now. Fuck it, let's get out of here." In a singular moment of courage, Rowan grabbed the jacket he'd discarded over the back of his chair in one hand, and reached for you with the other, letting out an excitable giggle as you laced your fingers through his for the first time.
- After the most comfortable first date you had ever been on, Roman gave you no chance to get bored of him, or think about anyone else. After decades of pining, he decided that one night was enough to make him your boyfriend, quickly planning his whole life around you, and making sure an evening couldn't pass without you on his arm. His heart still hammered in his chest every time he got to touch you, but he tried to ignore that and act as if you had always been together, partly because in his head he had been yours for years, even if you hadn't been his in return yet.
- You both have to endure a lot of jabs and taunts from Shiv, although at least half of them are made with love. She makes a serious affair out of dividing up your time between her and Roman though, not willing to lose her best friend even if her brother is the happiest she's ever seen him.
- For Roman you feel like a comfort blanket at every family event, a physical reminder of the kindness he deserves and that there is someone good in this world that cares about him. When his father is especially vindictive or cruel, Roman clings to you under the table, a gentle squeeze of your hand meaning safety to his fragile inner child.
- Roman has spent so long captivated by you, desperate to be in your favour, soaking in the warmth of presence, that now he can't get enough. Given his lack of meaningful adult relationships he doesn't have a frame of reference for how he should act, or how to manage his emotions. He'll feel like a frantic teenager in love, unable to let go of your hand no matter how difficult it makes navigating a crowd, discussing moving in and plans that span 'forever' after only a few dates. It makes perfect sense for him, because you're the only person that's made him feel this way his entire life, so of course you're going to be together forever.
- Every time you plant a soft peck on Roman, he'll let out a sweet hyena giggle, before repaying you with a matching kiss, euphoric in his newfound appreciation for affection. It's not just physical affection either, although he does find himself clinging to you and begging you to run your fingers through his hair and down his back. He cherishes every sweet word you say, almost to the point that he really believes them. He rereads the texts you send him like they are poetry in themselves. His heart swells when you describe him as your partner and introduce him to your friends, not ashamed of him or your feelings, making Roman stand a little prouder in himself.
- That first moment of kindness that you showed Roman sparked a small light inside him, a flickering hope of a life of kindness and joy that he could only ever picture with you. Now getting to face that reality is so much brighter than that young, stressed, despondent boy could have dreamed.
#writing#fanfiction#requests#one shot#roman roy x reader#roman roy imagine#succession hbo#roman roy succession#succession imagine#succession roman#roman roy#roman roy headcanons#roman roy fluff
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“Letting it linger”
Summary: Roman invited you to a family dinner where you two find a way to enjoy yourselves.
Contents: smut, established relationship, f!reader, dom/sub interactions, exhibitionism, choking, semi public, roman being needy, mention of sexual turmoil
(i’m so sorry if you saw this before i realized i added the same paragraph twice anyways)
This had to be one of the longest nights you have tolerated. You regret accepting Roman’s offer to be his plus one at this dinner. It wasn’t his fault. If it was up to him, he wouldn't have came.
The night was driving you insane. The dinner consisted of the Roy and Pierce families. Roman warned you about the pretentious comments and shitty conversation; you were not prepared for how fucking boring it was gonna be. During the first course, Roman rested his hand on your thigh, normal. It quickly turned into his hand resting close to your heat. You shot Roman a look, but he didn’t meet your eyes. It was a game now.
One of the Pierce's wives made conversation with you. Roman was picking at his food, not paying attention. “Well, I’ve never seen that one. What is it about?” You asked. She started talking and you decided to take action. As she was gabbing about the plot, you brought your hand to Roman’s pants and squeezed. The action made him yelp and practically jerk in his seat, “Rome are you okay?” You asked innocently. He sat at the end, only you could see what happened. He became flushed, his gaze surrendering to you as he sat dumbfounded.
It was risky. He needed a response, “Y-yeah, I'm, fuckin' fine,” he shook his head, removing the attention set on him, and the woman resumed her spiel. Roman’s pleading expression shifted to you, hand in the same place. He didn’t interrupt her; instead letting your hand linger. He adjusted his hips to gain more friction. He was rock-hard. His action surprised you, but it was all the confirmation you needed.
You started palming him through his pants, and he gave a slight huff as you wrapped up your conversation. You began moving quicker. You studied the room to make sure you both were above suspicion. Roman became pale from his arduous efforts to remain silent. You leaned over to his ear, “Stop looking like this is happening, you don't want everyone to see how pathetic you are? Especially your father,” you whispered.
You stayed close to his face as he turned to you. His eyes pleaded with you. Your mind explored the 'what if's?' in this situation. But it was the Pierce family, the dinner was crucial. “P-please, let’s go to the bathroom,” he breathed out. You stopped your action, causing him to repress a whine. Were you really about to do this? No one would suspect anything.
You moved your hand to his shoulder and whispered, “Then let’s go.”
With that, Roman wasted no time, excusing you both from the table. He had to follow close behind you to cover his strained pants. Once you two found the bathroom, you wasted no time kissing him against the door. It was sloppy and needy; one of your hands rested on his neck, the other stroking him.
You sped up your movement. Roman threw his head back, parting his mouth slightly. Provoking you to attack his neck and run your free hand through his hair, tugging at it slightly.
“Let’s fucking do it,” he says, panting. This wasn’t the first time you two had sex, just not as a casual affair. Your eyes lit up as you drew away from him, causing his hips to buck from the lack of sensation.
“Yeah, are you sure? Like actually do it?” You questioned. You weren't going to do anything he wasn’t okay with.
He looked at you, his face red and sweaty, and his eyes insisting. “Y-yes, I want this. Please.” He ensures, focusing his attention on tracing figures into your hip, waiting for a response. You studied his face just for additional assurance before kissing him again. Roman cupped your face as he stumbled, pushing you against the sink. His hands moved down and eventually made their way to your breasts. He kneaded them as you did your best to repress the noises, remembering the dinner outside. As you adjusted against the sink, you heard him undoing his belt. Roman glanced back at you while stroking himself. His eyes fluttered as you heard him spurt profanities.
You grab the back of his neck, “You still sure?” You also took this second to prepare yourself. You were about to hook up with your boyfriend in a bathroom. While his family was 50 feet away.
Roman rolled his eyes while forcing your underwear aside and pushing himself into you. You moan instinctively from the new sensation and dig your nails into Roman's neck. He quickly covers your mouth so you two don’t get caught.
He thrusts himself deeper, pressing his forehead against yours,” F-fuck, just keep quiet for me,” as he cut himself off with a low moan. You looked up at him, retaining eye contact. Roman’s eyes stayed on you, his small whimpers made you want him more. He let you both adjust to the feeling as he adjusted his other arm to keep you against the sink. He began a steady pace.
The room filled with sporadic moans as Roman’s eyebrows furrowed, you could tell he was close. He bucked you closer to him, resulting in him throwing his head back and moaning loudly. Roman moved his hand from your mouth to your throat, causing your eyes to widen from the feeling as a gasp escaped your throat from his noisy reaction. He froze for a moment after he realized how loud he was.
His face turned a deeper tint of red. His demeanor altered slightly, “D-do you think t-they heard me?” he asked. He felt worry trickle down his back. His frightened expression became apparent.
You moved your hand to his cheek reassuringly. “N-no, I think we’re all good,” you answered out of breath. You two waited a couple of seconds to make sure you were in the clear.
Roman looked down at where his hand sat, “Fuck,” he began removing his hand from your neck, but you kept it there.
“No, I like it. You wanted me to stay quiet right?” You said with a lustful grin. Roman’s eyes filled with hunger as he kissed you, returning to the previous pace and now applying pressure to your neck.
Roman’s thrusts started becoming more brutal. He was biting your shoulder to help conceal his whines. It wasn’t long until you felt a knotting sensation in your core. You knew he was close behind from the slight shuddering from his hips with every thrust. “Rome-”
He already knew what you were gonna say, “Do it.” he quickly responded, muffled from your shoulder. To suppress your climax, he tightened the grip on your neck, pushing you over the edge. You felt him bite harder, the mix of moans heating against your skin. Roman wasn’t far behind you. His hips started stuttering as he met his climax. You couldn't make out any of the words he was saying. It was a mixture of praises, swears, and moans.
After you both came down, he pulled out of you and put himself away. He didn’t talk to you immediately after, which made you believe he regretted it. You sat on the sink with your legs slightly trembling, thinking Roman was going to ignore you the rest of the evening.
“I think you'll fuckin' need this.” You look up and see a towel being handed to you. You met Roman’s eyes before getting up and started using the mirror, him directly behind you. You quickly cleaned up and adjusted your dress. “You better hope no one heard,” he said, pulling you closer to his hips.
The tension in your face eases, “It’d be your funeral.”
#roman roy#roman roy fanfic#roman roy x reader#roman roy x you#succession#succession fanfic#roman roy drabble#roman roy smut#roman roy fluff#succession smut#roman roy succession
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𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐫 ♡
You were seven years old when you first met the Roy kids on a sunny summer day at a New England country club. You were eight that next summer when Roman, rather matter of factly, had declared the two of you best friends. Those following summers you had shared are some of the happiest memories from your childhood. But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and you and Roman lost contact after your eighth summer. Years later, after the carefree summers with your old childhood friend has become nothing but memories, Roman Roy comes crashing back into your life.
Roman Roy x f!reader || Series playlist || Main masterlist
Chapter 1 Chemtrails Over The Country Club coming soon
Chapter 2 I Am The Greatest Motherfucker That You’re Ever Gonna Meet
More chapters to come
#roman roy x reader#roman roy x you#roman roy x f!reader#roman roy fanfiction#roman roy fic#roman roy#succession fanfiction#succession fic#roman roy fluff#roman roy angst#succession fandom#roman roy x y/n#succession x reader#springtyme writes#a heart is a heavy burden to bear
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Be honest with me (Roman Roy x reader)
Masterlist
word count: 1.1k
warnings: 18+, pure fluff and comfort, mentions of verbal abuse
a/n: Inactivity who? A rare update I know lol. Anyway y’all I’m so in love with him - honestly in love with all the Roy siblings, but Romulus got a special place in my heart <3
I love how late I jump onto writing trends for characters, but in my defence I've had this in the drafts for MONTHS. Anyway, hope you enjoy my loves <3
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The apartment was silent, it felt too out of character, especially for Roman. The both of you lay in silence on his bed, still in today's clothes.
You move your hand slowly - scared that a sudden movement would cause him to suddenly get up and leave without warning. Tentatively, you inch your fingers onto his own - he said nothing, nor did he move. Gaining more confidence and desperate to comfort him knowing how loud his mind must be right now - you encapsulate his hand within your own. They’re soft and warm - Roman was always warm to touch. You feel his hand squeeze your own back - still no words being said.
You take a deep breath, feeling the need to break the silence finally, but before you can, Roman cuts you off.
“Please don’t,” his voice came out weak - he was usually so quick witted…he just sounded tired.
“Okay,” your voice was soft - a complete dichotomy to the tone he was used to from his father and siblings.
Another 30 minutes went by in complete silence - the both of your steady breaths being the only thing heard. Your hand still lay in his - he hadn't moved an inch unless it was to gently squeeze your hand every so often.
You turn on your side, slipping your hand out of his - he still didn't move. You decided to move closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder and draping your right arm across his chest that rose up and down with each breath he took.
You studied his face - he looked like he wanted to push you off of him, and yet simultaneously he was aching to pull you closer to him. Your touch was the only touch he felt safe feeling - you'd never hurt him, and he never doubted that thought for a second, but he was just so used to being alone and pushing people away.
You were desperate to hear his voice, to understand what was running through his head. You knew he was probably going to say some stupid quip to hide how he really felt, but you'd see straight through him; he knew this and it was the scariest thing to him - that you actually saw him.
"Ro...," you were gentle - a part of him just wanted you to shout at him and tell him he was a waste of space just like his father had - it was all he knew. However, you were just too kind, you actually cared for him, and not in the way his father cared for him - if you could call it that - but in a way that was so genuine and pure that it felt wrong to him, but he craved every second of it.
His gaze moved from the ceiling to your worried face - you looked beautiful he thought, he had always thought you were the most beautiful person he knew. "Yeah," his voice sounded small and tired.
"Are you okay?" the question was stupid, you knew he wasn't, but you wondered if he'd answer you honestly - if for once he'd be vulnerable with you, and truly let you into what was going through his mind.
"What? Pfft yeah I'm fine, real fucking good...just thinking about who has bigger tits - you or Gerri...I think Gerri does," there it was...he couldn't be honest with you for a minute if he tried - he'd rather say some crude shit and hope you'd be weirded out enough like everyone else and just leave him so he could avoid sharing his emotions.
You sat up, leaning on one hand as you stared down at him while he tried to avoid your gaze which was slowly glazing over with unshed tears. "Roman...please I-...can you just be honest with me?" your voice had a slight shake - scared that you were going to push him over the edge and he'd run.
He made eye contact with you, his heart clenching in his chest, no one had made him feel the way you could make him feel, and that scared him. He didn't know what to do - his mind was screaming so many things at him all at once that he couldn't really make a decision, so he stayed silent.
Several minutes passed of you both just holding each other's gaze then he opened his mouth tentatively, "Why do you care about me? Why can't you just call me a freak or a perv and leave?" You watched as his eyes reddened and glazed over as he tried his hardest not to cry in front of you. Had you cracked him? It felt bittersweet that he might finally just be honest with you, but the pain in his eyes was tearing at your heart.
You smiled, giggling softly as you lifted a hand to his cheek and wiped away a singular tear that had managed to fall, watching as he turned his face to meet your caress - he trusted you. "Because I fucking love you Roman".
"But why?" he interrupted you like a child would trying to understand such a foreign concept that you were trying to explain.
"There's no reason - I mean there is, you're...you. I love you Roman." You were so soft with him, it felt alien to him. It broke you that he couldn't fathom the concept of someone genuinely loving him, and in such a pure way too. This love wasn't like the love from his father, nor from his siblings - it was something so foreign that he couldn't understand it, but he liked it...he liked this.
You laid back down beside him, "Come here Ro...please" your eyes had such a soft stare - they were so warm and inviting, he couldn't object to the embrace you were offering him.
Roman inched across the bed over into your arms, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face in your chest, while you wrapped an arm around his back, holding him close to you. You fell into a comfortable silence, holding each other without a care in the world - it was just the both of you.
"I love you too, you know?" he muttered it so quietly that it almost went unheard, but a smile spread across your face at his confession. You knew that he had probably been having an internal argument with himself on whether or not he was actually going to say it to you; without any sarcasm too.
You felt your heart fluttering in your chest and you pulled him closer to you, "Yeah I know". You tilted your head down slightly and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. He went to open his mouth to say some sarky comment, but immediately shut it - he didn't need to feel defensive around you, not now, and not ever.
#fluff#fem reader#sucession#roman roy x reader#roman roy#roman roy fluff#roman roy imagine#roman roy x you#succession x reader#comfort#fanfic#succession roman#logan roy#shiv roy#kendall roy#gregory hirsch#tom wambsgans
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Kittens & Perverts (PG-13)
GIF by @kitherondale
Summary | A month after Logan’s passing, Roman stumbles onto an abandoned kitten and seeks the help of his assistant in caring for it.
Genre | Angst, The Fluffiest Fluff
TW | animal sickness, mentions of death (no actual death), panic attacks, drug mentions, slight allusions to an eating disorder
Word Count | 3.9k
A/N | This is for all my soft hearted bitches that just need that doe eyed lil’ shit to feel held. Even if just by a hand.
I had just walked out my door when I received a call from a very frantic Roman.
“I found a kitten. What the fuck do I do? It’s like, fuckin’ shivering and oh god- I think it? Coughed? Do cats cough?” His voice gets slightly quieter as if pulled away from the receiver. “Did you just cough?”
After having me find, in his words, the Mayo Clinic of emergency vets, he sent a car after me to meet him there. The entire drive was spent trying to calm him through the phone. He kept sending me horrific screenshots of every worse case scenario he found on Google. When I entered the waiting room I found him pacing with wide eyes and fidgety hands. He’d wound himself onto the verge of a panic attack.
“It’s got fucking pneumonia. Hooked up to IV’s and all this shit. They’re like incubating it- I think? With this big ass oxygen tank. Did you know they did that for cats? Like iron lung ‘em?” His hand roughly drags back through his hair. “I dunno if some sick fuck just left it there ‘cause it was ugly as shit with lil green goo comin’ out its eyes- aw, man, you shoulda seen it. The poor little fucker was like- like straight outta Cronenberg’s wet dreams, just- oh man, fuckin’ nasty.” He laughs to himself but it’s more of a stuttering rush of mirthless air. “And I’m supposed to feed it with these like freaky fucking heroin needle things apparently? I don’t-“ Placing both of my palms on either side of his cheeks gently, I tried stilling him.
“Hey- hey look at me. Breathe with me, yeah? In through your nose for a count of 4, hold for 7, out through your mouth for 8. Just like your blowing out birthday candles.” Face bunched up, he shoves me away.
“Fuck off! Birthday candles? The fuck are you on about? I’m fine. You know whose not fine? The fucking cat! It’s so tiny and-“
“Roman! Just fucking breathe with me real quick, okay? Just for a sec-“
“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? I’m breathing fucking fine! Are you deranged?“
“No I’m not fucking deranged but I’m about to shove a vial of ketamine up your ass if you don’t just fucking trust me and breathe with me.”
Exacerbated, he finally follows me through the breathing exercise for three rounds. Albeit while rolling his eyes. The tension in his face had fallen slightly. Though, his shoulders remained tense as ever.
“Better?”
“Fuck you.” He shakes his head and refuses to meet my eyes. “Yes.” His reply reluctant and slightly cartoonish with annoyance. He’d been having bouts of anxiety and panic attacks ever since his father passed. He was always like this whenever I’d guide him through it. Embarrassed and frustrated. Depleted.
He sank into one of the seats lining the wall with a long sigh. Head falling back for a moment before pulling his knees up and anchoring his heel to the edge of the metal chair. Hugging himself. I take a seat next to him and criss-cross my legs beneath me.
“Is he gonna die?” His voice now small and hushed as he intently stared at a floor tile. I felt the ghost of Logan grip my heart and squeeze.
“Honestly?” His big brown eyes flicker up at me. Searching, scared. “I dunno, Roman.” He quickly stares back to the floor tile. “What I do know is you did the very best you could for the lil’ guy.” He scuffs.
“Yeah-well, my best has historically done fuck all so…” he mumbles and I gently nudge him with my elbow but he doesn’t look up.
“That’s not true and you know it.” He shoots me a look that tells me he does not in fact know it. “That kitten wouldn’t have had a chance without you. You gave it a fighting shot at life, Rome. That’s worth something.” Just then a vet walks through the waiting room doors. Roman quickly stumbles out of the chair to stand. I join him and cautiously press the palm of my hand to his back for support. He doesn’t brush me off.
“It’s a good thing you brought him in when you did. If it had been any later, I don’t think he would have made it.” I steal a glance at Roman, who swallows before clenching his jaw. “He seems to be responding well to the oxygen and antibiotics. You all should be able leave with him after he’s been stable for a little while longer. I’ll start filling the scripts for his medications here soon.”
The warmth of the vet’s reassuring smile was in stark contrast to the color draining from Roman’s face. He nods slowly and blinks as he processes the responsibility of this kitten’s health being placed onto him. As the doctor leaves, Roman climbs back into the cold metal chair like an anxious gargoyle. I pull the vet aside before he can walk back through the doors and ask him to go over care instructions with me. He offers me a packet instead. Flipping through it, I search out a supplies list.
I knew Roman was far too out of his depths to retain any of the information. Valid, considering he referred to a nursing syringe as a heroine needle. Upon walking back, I find he’s made the full transformation into human stress ball. Full moon be damned. He looked like one pull of an imaginary rubber band and he’d fall apart all over the floor.
“Hey, I’m going to run to the store and get everything we need. I’ll set it all up at your place so we’ll be ready when you come home.” I tried using we instead of you to let him know he wasn’t going to be tackling this alone. I don’t think he noticed.
“You’re leaving me here?” His eyes were wide and horrified. “I can’t- I don’t- what if-“
“You’ll be okay Roman. You’ve got thi-“
“Like hell I’ll be! I most certainly do not got this. What the fuck!” Sighing, I sit beside him as he continues to gape at me.
“The vet has everything under control. All you need to do is sit here, try to relax, and think about a name for the little guy, okay? You don’t wanna have to deal with shopping for all this shit once you have him.” The lines between his brows were deeply creased.
“Can’t you just send a-“
“Roman. Stop.” He does, though a silent plea remained etched in his features. “Just let me do this for you, alright?” His eyes shut as his head falls back against the wall. This was important and I didn’t really trust that anyone else would get everything needed. Having to deal with a forgotten item later tonight sounded like a hell I wished to avoid. “You’ll see me again at the apartment. My phone is at full volume. You know you can call me the second I leave this building and I’ll answer.” He grumbles, refusing to look at me. “And I promise to have that boba tea you refuse to admit you like waiting for you.” One eye opens and the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Sugar-free?” He didn’t need to know that the boba had been soaking in brown sugar before reaching his cup. Too elated that he felt some sense of joy in something food related and knowing full well he’d never touch it again if he knew. He still rarely allowed himself a cup of it as is, let alone finish it all. I didn’t have the heart to break it to him, so I never did.
“With extra boba.” His lips defy him as a small smile escapes. Groaning loudly and dramatically, he lifts his head.
“Fine.” He jerks his wallet out of his pocket and hands me his black card. “If that thing fucking croaks on me while you’re gone, I’m blaming you.”
As I walk out the doors I catch a quick glance back to find him, eyes closed, doing those breathing exercise.
Sure enough, the second I’m in the car my phone rings.
“The fuck all do you even have to get? Do pet stores sell heroine needles? Ask Kendall, I bet he’d fuckin’ know.” The entire shopping excursion was spent with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder as I picked up supplies. As soon as one call would end, it wouldn’t be a few minutes later that it’d ring again. “Do I have a humidifier? I’ve got that fuckin’ facial steamer. Is that like the same thing? I feel like- no, you know what? Just pick one up while you’re out. Someone on Reddit said it helps with pneumonia.”
Upon arriving to his apartment, I open the fridge to sit the promised boba tea inside. Lonely amongst the near barren shelves of wilting lettuce and protein shakes. Trying not to think about it too much, I return to the task at hand. I had successfully gathered all needed supplies, plus a plush heated blanket that I hoped might warm both their spirits. He rarely left his room most days so I figured it’s the best place to set up everything. As I spread the blanket across his bed, my phone rang.
“In route with Jerry.”
“The fuck you doin’ with Gerri?”
“Check your texts.” Clicking the notification, I’m met with a photo of Roman and the kitten. It’s small form curled up under the palm of his hand, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His chuckle reverbs through the speaker.
“He is kinda cute, right?” You’re both kinda cute.
“The cutest. Please tell me you named him after the cartoon and not that Gerri?”
“Of course I named it after the fucking cartoon. Why would you even- yeah. I named a fuckin’ kitten after Waystar’s legal counsel.” His voice dripping with sarcasm even though he totally did do just that.
“You fucking would.” I can’t help but laugh. “And you say I’m deranged?”
“Yeah, yeah. Call my therapist.”
“Why? You’re already on the phone with ‘em.”
“Well you’re doing a shit job.”
“Clearly.” I began setting up Jerry’s bed. A nest of soft blankets over a heating pad in a small box. “Well shit’s hard with a sick fuck like Roman Roy as my client.”
“I can tell ya somethin’ else that’s hard.”
“I’m calling HR.”
“Ooo, three way?”
“Hanging up now.” His laughter reflects off his floor to ceiling windows as I cut the line.
While finishing filling the humidifier, now resting on his side table, I heard the front door open. Roman’s light footsteps click across the pristine hardwood floors.
“Aye! Lil’ man’s hungry, did you get the goods?” I’m soon enough greeted by a softly mewing Jerry in the same spot as he was photographed in nearly an hour prior.
“Yeah, your boba’s in the fridge.” Roman rolls his eyes before scrunching his nose up and sticking his tongue out at me.
“Hardy-har har. You’re hilarious.” Sticking my own tongue out at him, I give him a wink. “Seriously, did you get- the fuck that come from?” He waves a limp wrist towards the bed.
“It’s a heated blanket, I got it while I was out. Just thought you two could use it. And yes, the formulas in the kitchen.” Roman eyes the thick white blanket before waltzing over to run a hand over it. His lips threaten a smile but he fights it off.
“It’s… nice.” He clears his throat.
“You know, I haven’t gotten to officially meet Jerry yet.” Tilting my head, I gaze upon the little creature with a small smile. A tabby that reminded me of my first cat. I carefully reach out my pointer finger to stroke his head. My smile grows even wider. I was grateful Roman had found him and that he was okay. The fist of worry I kept hidden in the pit of my stomach began to unfurl. My cheeks warm as Roman’s gaze studied my face while I pet the kitten held against him.
“You can hold him.” Our eyes meet and there was something in his that made my chest flutter. He looks down quickly. “I mean-if you wanna or whatever.”
“Yeah? You sure? Y’all seem pretty cozy.” Roman rolls his eyes before carefully handing Jerry over to me. I cradle him over my heart while rubbing his side with my thumb. I can’t help but lean down to lay a soft kiss atop his head. “You are just the sweetest lil thing in the whole world, you know that?” I murmur into his fur before pulling back with a smile.
“Oh he fuckin’ knows it. He had all the nurses in a tizzy. Had to fight ‘em off with my humongous dick.”
“Oh Jesus, Roman. Do you ever just shut the fuck up?”
“Nope.” Roman smiles as he reaches to pet Jerry. His finger brushes my hand and our eyes fall to one another. The corner of his mouth twitches along with his finger. The air begins to fill with static as we stood falling into each other’s gaze. There was maybe half a foot of space between us. Out of nervous habit, I bite my bottom lip and Roman’s eyes immediately flicker to my mouth. Jerry mews against my chest.
“Should we go get the formula ready?” My voice comes out quieter than I intended, just above a whisper. He blinks a few times before meeting my eyes again.
“Huh? Y-yeah.” Clearing his throat, he quickly turns on his heels and heads out the bedroom door. I follow with a blush on my cheeks and a smile on my lips.
Atop Roman’s bed, he lay on his side with me mirrored beside him. Jerry was stretched out between us with a full belly pressed to the heated blanket, sleeping peacefully. Roman had one hand propping his head up and the other holding his boba tea. My arms were crossed under one another as I used them as a pillow. Both of us watching the rise and fall of Jerry’s breathing.
Feeding him earlier was an ordeal to say the least. Roman quickly became overwhelmed. Only confident in his abilities as a fuck up. He was twitchy, anxious, and swear-y as he made a mess of the kitchen. Glancing up to his face, I notice the circles under his eyes seemed darker. He looked utterly exhausted as he chewed on the straw of his drink with a furrowed brow.
“Hey, Rome?”
“Mm?” He hums addressing me but doesn’t look up from Jerry.
“Do you wanna try and get some sleep? I can stay up with Jer-Bear and make sure he’s okay.” Eyes finally meeting mine, his brows stay pulled together.
“Fuck no. I’m not tired.” He lied through his teeth; quickly and firmly. I had just seen him yawn not five minutes prior. My brows raise.
“Uh-huh…” I look him over. He was still dressed for the day, though without shoes. His tie, dusted in formula powder, hung loose around his neck. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow. Once gelled hair now flung in nearly every direction.
“Hey! Stop fuckin’-“ He waves the plastic cup around. “Checkin’ me out in front of the child, ya heathen.”
“The child?” I laugh quietly while propping my head up in one hand and stealing his drink from him with the other. He gasps dramatically with a hand to his chest. “Alright, cat daddy.” His brows raise as I take a sip.
“Cat daddy?” He smirks suggestively. “What are you then? Cat mommy?” Chewing on some boba pearls, I shrug with a smile.
“Seems fitting.” He goes to steal his cup back, causing his hand to fall over my own. He doesn’t remove it. Just stares at them clasped together. His touch feels electric. The familiar static returning to the air. Roman’s thumb slowly begins to brush my knuckles. Back and forth, almost shyly. I let out a shaky breath and his eyes suddenly meet mine, startled. He pulls the drink from me and I let my hand fall. The phantom of his thumb sending small shockwaves through to my bones.
Refusing to meet my eyes, he focuses them on Jerry instead. His fingers quickly and rhythmically tapping at the side of his cup. The hand once holding his head was now scratching at his jaw. A bundle of nerves before me. I yearned to soothe them and missed the warmth of his touch. The lonely ache blossoming throughout the skin of my palm made my head feel fuzzy. I then feel my last remaining brain cell sprout something akin to courage. Reaching out, I grasp the top of his drink and take it away to place on the side table behind me.
“What the fuck? I wasn’t finished…” He trails off as I look back to him. All furrow browed and handsome. Cautiously, I reach for his hand and lace my fingers with his. His eyes immediately drop to them interlocking with a sharp inhale. He falls tense. My stomach flips as I fight off the flaming arrows of nerves shooting down my arm. Just as tentatively as he had before, I start to gently rub my thumb against the side of his hand. He doesn’t respond; his hand feeling limp and dead beneath mine. Dread pools down the back of my throat.
“S-sorry.” Pulling back, I try to unthread myself from his hand. Suddenly his fingers come to life and clasp around mine. Gripping tightly as if his body was silently pleading with mine to not let go. Don’t leave. His eyes finally meet mine and his brows twitch. A wash of different emotions flash across his features. Behind those stormy brown eyes, I could see the waves of doubt and fear threaten to drown out the rest.
What we were doing could be considered small. Insignificant even, sure. We were simply holding hands. Yet it felt like something big for some reason. Maybe because neither one of us could recall the last time someone held us. Even if it was just our hands.
It felt intimate.
He didn’t want it to stop but he didn’t know what to do with the feelings it was bringing up either. I pull our hands towards my face and lean forward to meet them. Softly biting down on his middle knuckle then smiling up at him. His mouth twitches before slowly smiling back.
“You’re so fucking dumb.” He laughs softly, slightly bewildered.
“Watch it or I’ll bite it off.” His smile only grows.
“Do it, I fuckin’ dare ya.” I bite down onto his knuckle once again, harder this time. He drops my hand immediately, only to thread his own through my hair and pull me into a bruising kiss. Both of us smile against the other’s mouth. He nips at my bottom lip when I pull away with a laugh. I lightly shove his head playfully before throwing his words from earlier back at him.
“In front of the child?” The near constant and crushing weight of his stress seemed momentarily absent as we giggled in bed like schoolchildren. “Ya heathen.” Jerry had continued sleeping soundly between us. Careful not to wake him, Roman begins brushing a finger down Jerry’s back, ever so gently. “You can be really sweet when you wanna be, you know that?” His eyes meet mine in an attempt to look stern. Though, the smallest hint of a smile still lingered.
“You tell anyone about this and I’m chuckin’ ya into the Hudson with cement shoes.” With a wide grin, I return to my earlier positioning. Arms curled beneath me to lie atop. The day was finally catching up and my head felt heavy. “You realize there’s pillows directly above you, right?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen a pillow a day in my life.” My eyes were struggling to stay open as I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of Jerry’s back with Roman’s finger stroking gently.
“Smartass.” The next thing I know, Roman’s hand has slid beneath my cheek to lift my head. A pillow is nestled into the space between soon after. I hum approvingly and he mumbles. “Thanks… for today.”
“Happy to help.” I rub my face into the pillow as if it could wipe off the sleep threatening to overtake me. In a weak attempt to stay awake, my mouth begins to ramble. “I got pneumonia a lot when I was a kid. I’d have to take these breathing treatments with an oxygen mask.” Letting out a soft chuckle, the memories flood back to me. Absentmindedly, my finger begins drawing circles against the blanket as I sleepily look to Jerry’s face. “But since I was a child, they tried to make it less scary so the mask was in the shape of a fish head. Whenever Jerry was in the hospital, I just pictured this tiny kitten wearing my little fish mask.” My eyes flicker up to Roman. He was wearing a small smile. “I dunno… it just made me feel better for some reason. I guess like he’d be okay because I was okay.” As the words tumbled out in a mumble, Roman’s eyes seemed softer. My cheeks started to warm with a blush so I shyly tuck my chin in and look back to Jerry.
“That’s really cute actually.” My eyes rise back to his. The tips of his own cheeks seem to turn almost pink under my gaze. “Corny as fuck, but… cute.” Clearing his throat, he looks back at the sleeping kitten before him. “I’m calling you fish face from now on.” The corner of my mouth tugs into a smile as my eyes fall heavy with sleep.
“You did good today, Rome.” If I had the energy to look back to him, I would have caught the pinks of his cheeks turning crimson. Saw his mouth twitch in a losing battle between a smile and his lips. The smile won.
The blinding light of morning had me waking with eyes squeezed tight. A steady electric hum met my ears and I tried to mentally deduce where it could be coming from before giving up. Fighting off the violently bright assault to my vision, my eyes finally part and focus. A cloud of steam billows through a sun ray to greet me. My gaze follows the plume towards it’s source. A soft electric hum. The humidifier.
The next sight to greet me fills my heart with something so sweet and so warm, it overflowed. The feeling overwhelmed my every being and threatened to burst through my chest and coat the very walls. Taking its disembodied hands to pull the corners of my lips upwards as a soft snore escapes the sleeping form beside me.
Roman looked even messier than he had the previous night. Lying on his back with one wrinkled sleeve pulled down. It appeared to have milk dampening the expensive fabric. The formula powder, once just on his tie, was now kissing across the scruff of his jaw. Somehow, it looked to be in his hair as well. His shirt lie halfway open, unbuttoned. A tiny ball of fur lay against the bare skin at the heart of his chest. There, Jerry slept underneath Roman’s cradling palm. The two of them warming the other peacefully.
My cheeks were aching but I couldn’t stop smiling. The humidifier’s buzz seemed to morph into a familiar high strung murmur inside my head.
You fucking love me, don’t you?Dumbass.
I haven’t written fan fiction in ages, let alone for Succession. I’m high-key fucking terrified of the response lol But this was so much fun to write and turned out extremely wholesome so I had to share. Please excuse any spelling/grammar/formatting fuck ups. I did all this in my notes app and haven’t shared any writing on here since like… 2018? I think?? Anyways, to whomever might be reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it. ♡˚ ✧ ༘ ｡ ˚ ⋆
#Roman Roy#Succession#Succession HBO#Gender Neutral Fanfic#Roman Roy One Shot#Roman Roy Fluff#Roman Roy Angst#Roman Roy Imagine#Roman Roy x Reader#Roman Roy x Gender Neutral Reader#Succession Fanfic#Succession Imagine#Needy!Roman#Insecure!Roman#idk what else to tag here???#help????#mine#kittens & perverts
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Resolved Issues / Roman Roy Imagine
Request: HIIIII gonna send my succession request while i still can lol.
how about roman and reader sharing childhood stories? him realising that perhaps, maybe the way his family has treated him is tiny bit Not Normal. the reader being somewhere between "oh my god let me give you a hug" and "i just might fight logan roy in the parking lot". yknow good old hurt/comfort you do it like no other
Thank you so much sweetie!! But also yes I feel this in my soul frick Logan Roy lmao
Warning: strong language. mentions of diarrhoea and mentions of child abuse/ physical abuse!
This 3k beast took quite a while to write, so feedback is appreciated! Thank you! :)
(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @loverboyromanroy.)
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°
Roman shrugs his shoulders and looks steadily at you, straight into your eyes.
‘The fuck- how should I know? Like... twenty three, ish?’
Roman’s perching on the edge of his own sofa, so obviously uncomfortable even in his own apartment. His wrist flicks as he answers, and a few drops of the whiskey he hasn’t touched comes sloshing round the side to stain his brand new eggshell blue decorative pillows. He had never cared much for property. But then again, he hadn’t cared much for whiskey either growing up; it had been his father’s drink of choice, and therefore his. The faint fire in the cold marble fireplace behind his head licks between his ears, and illuminates the confused amusement gleaming in his eyes.
You scoff, and shake your head at him incredulously. ‘You own twenty three houses, and you choose to live here?’ Awaiting an answer you know will be even more ridiculous, you make an effort to tuck your legs criss-cross under you, and sit with your knees resting just underneath Roman’s lower legs. ‘And yet you still live in the coldest ass apartment, I swear to god I’m freezing my ass off, and that’s even with the fire going. Are you a fucking yeti or something, Roman Roy?’
He chortles as you continue: ‘you thrive in colder climates, huh? That’s not surprising, considering a glare from your father could freeze hell over.’ You take a final sip of your drink before reaching over and placing it on the sleek black coffee table; Roman’s eyes drop for a split second as if almost in despondency, some kind of deep scarred sorrow peeking its way out like a tired child, before rising back to yours, seeking comfort. It doesn’t slip your attention. You make sure your fingers brush against his socks as you slip your hands back to your lap, and give a sweet squeeze to the tippy toes. He lets out a giggle and kicks his foot out at you, and it’s the most delightful sound you’d ever hear: that true, unadulterated happiness that Roman Roy rarely ever is permitted to have, without some kind of malicious intention lurking behind it.
‘Okay, well, one’, he ostentatiously holds a finger up by twirling it in the air, and it takes you a second to realise he’s pointedly showing you his middle finger. ‘Fuck you. Two-’, he decides to count with his pinkie finger, ‘my dad owns twenty three hours, I own approximately zero fucking squilch of that. And three, I’m a fucking incredible designer - see that Feng Shui over there? All me baby, I would have fucking killed it as an interior design.’
‘Having one sad as fuck looking potted plant by the window and literally no personal items doesn’t count as Feng Shui, dumbass. You’re just sad.’
‘Okay - well - if you’re such a smartass-’, Roman winds his hands up by his head but nearly lets the crystal glass his brother had bought him for his last birthday fall onto the hardwood floor, so he grimaces and gently places it on the rug. He turns back to glance at you, and despite the fact he’s positioning himself as if he’s conducting an interview: elbows resting on knees with hands clasped out before him, face set in stone, he still looks intent and truthfully curious about the answer he’s hoping you’ll give. ‘What was your childhood home like then? I’m sure full of unicorns that shart rainbows and fucking fairies that sneeze glitter from the way you hate my deco.’
You pause to think for a minute, not fully expecting such an honest question to come from Roman Roy. You place a finger gingerly against your lip, and in that second, perched up on the edge of the pristine settee, Roman wishes he could just leap over and replace your fingertip with his lips. He had never been so entranced by someone: never had the privilege of knowing someone from this corporate world who would be so truthful, so different from him. And yet, at the same time, someone who so deliciously, so crudely, so cruelly reminded him of the young child locked in the cage within his heart: so unknowingly let him cling onto the little bit of him he had tried to keep alive. The only bit of him left that wasn’t a Roy. That was just Roman.
Yet, even in the hope that clouded his mind as he awaited your answer, your words came like slices to slit against his throat. ‘Well, I suppose my home was... well, not to sound pedestrian, or super corny, but it was a happy one?’ He nodded, content to bleed out in front of you. ‘There was usually a lot of laughter, and of course a lot of stress, but you know. We could all rely on each other. It was... yeah, it was nice.’ You stop, biting your bottom lip and switching your legs around so you could raise them up and pull them against your chest.
You didn’t want to look at the man sitting before you suddenly. It was as if he had regressed into himself as you went along: withering, shivering slightly like a frosty chill over an empty playground. It looked - it felt unnatural, as he stared at you without seeing. He blinked languidly for a moment, soaking in your words, before jutting his bottom lip out and trying his best to grin at you. ‘Well, my childhood wasn’t so horrid either. My brother took me and Ken camping once, and although it was fucking sleeting down like bullets of pure fucking ice down by the stream, Connor did eat a fish that looked like a mouldy shoe and spent most of the night running off into the woods holding his ass.’
He snorts then, his little high pitched hyena laugh bubbling out of him as he places the back of his hand against his lips to try and hold it in, and you can’t help but laugh along with him at the sorry image of the supposed Roy brother patriarch scuttling around like a crab with diarrhoea.
‘That’s sweet, but do you have any other actual memories with your family where someone isn’t being ridiculed?’
‘Woah, hey-’, he holds both his hands up, and slides down from the armrest to come sit in front of you. ‘When you meet my brother, you’ll understand that he deserves it.’ You flush slightly at the implication, becoming rather uncharacteristically bashful around Roman, and glancing quickly down between your legs. Pulling at a thread until it becomes loose, you pray the timid fire glow is enough to hide from him the rushing heat crawling up your neck. Due to the fact that Roman also is shyly looking down at the toes he’s currently wiggling to busy himself, you both miss the way the other is blushing.
‘But...uh’, he starts finally after a moment of contemplation: a blessed few minutes of serendipitous indulgence, of growing warmth and familiarity, and just enough time for the two of you to realise how much your presence and conversation had only furthered endeared the two of you to each other, despite the hint of sadness that laced it.
‘I really - I mean, my dad was like, always busy.’ He scratches the back of his head, embarrassed by the way you tilt your head and look quizzically at him. He becomes hyper aware of how close his knee is to resting against yours, and decides to swallow the fear that seems to be clogging up the back of his throat, and shuffles forward until there’s finally contact. ‘And my brother was like, following in his footsteps and all that jazz’, his eyes widen as he holds his hands out by his side. ‘So there wasn’t really much time for... fun, I guess. Or mistakes. Or family.’
It breaks your heart to watch him deflate once he finishes speaking, and suddenly the austere, cold walls and empty, hollow halls of his apartment make all the more sense. He looks so worn out, so tired of having to hide himself away behind a big, empty mansion full of props and antiques and nothingness all put out for show, because that’s what he was. That’s how he saw himself. A big, empty, tired, twisted puppet trying to bend over backwards to escape the marionette strings of daddy’s love, not realising they’re choking him. It was a strategy, a way to protect himself: to become placid, to mask yourself as being one of them, to fit in with his father’s lifestyle, and maybe then the slaps and strikes and kicks and whimpers would feel like something good. Because he’s trying to be just like his father. So if he’s hit, it’s only because the puppet hasn’t quite danced to the right tune, that’s all.
As you glance around, you finally begin to notice how unused all the furniture in Roman’s apartment looks: the cellarette by the bar that looks as if it had been varnished yesterday, to the large screen television on the either side of the elongated room that Roman clearly only put on once a night to watch the news, to the velvet cushioned armchair positioned to sweep out and look across the skyline of the city, yet the headrest didn’t even have a dent. All these things. All this barrenness. It made you sick to your stomach. Here he was: a toy left on the shelf to collect dust, taken out to play with only when it suited the puppet master, and he was still so desperate for love that he still tried to copy his father.
And you could see from the way his eyes were beginning to turn blood shot as he slowly sat there and turned the cogs in the back of his brain over, that this was a thought he had had many times before.
You try your best not to look at him too pitifully, in case he might take offence and retreat back into his shell again when you hold out your hands to him. He swallows thickly, watching your every movement as your fingers unfurl over his knees, and you signal at him to come closer. For a moment, as he squints his eyes at you, he seems tentative. But then you roll your eyes, trying your best to still seem casual, and flutter your fingers at him again.
It takes less than a second for him to latch on this time, and his fingers grip into the sides of your skin so tightly you’re afraid he may draw blood. But then, you suppose, that’s all he’s been familiarised with.
‘It’s fine, I’m fine’, he tries to shrug it off, but his fingers only squeeze into yours all the more desperately. Worried he’ll try and pull away if you keep them suspended between your touching knees, you slowly pull them down to rest on your lap as he continues talking. He begins to play with your fingers almost subconsciously, looping them through his stout ones. ‘I mean, sure, my earliest memory is Shiv trying to drown me in the pool because she didn’t want so many older brothers to take all of daddy’s attention away from her. And Ken was never really present, dad was always shipping him away to some conference training or having him sit at his feet like his lap dog, but it’s fine. I’m fine. I grew up to be a well adjusted adult without any concerning issues at all.’
Although his tone is mocking, once he’s finished his rambling thought he lets go of your hand to rub his eyes. He does a half-yawn to try and cover the fact that they’re becoming rather bleary - to hide the fact that this is beginning to get at him, actually. And he’d rather stop now, if that’s alright. He’s the jokester in the family. The happy man. The go to cheer-upper. The pathetic one. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to cry in front of you. He was never allowed to cry.
He jumps when he feels your hand against his knee, and he sniffles slightly when he looks down and sees you’ve leaned closer towards him. ‘And your dad?’, you ask quietly, cautiously, pulling the hand of his you were still holding tightly into your sternum. ‘What was he like growing up?’
‘Well, I was annoying. I- I am annoying, so, you know-’
He chokes then, and this time he can’t stop the sob that breaks out from the back of his throat like an overdue bell chime.
‘I’m annoying. I’m fucking annoying, you know that?’, he chokes out between sobs, doubling over on himself, but he’s still laughing between each gasping breathe. ‘I’m such a piece of shit’, he states, doing his best to stop his lip from wobbling and the tears from clouding out of his eyes, but he doesn’t complain when you take your hand off his lap and guide it to the small of his back, just before the dip in his shoulder blades. Gently - ever so gently, as if you were cradling a new born child still so unused to human touch, you guide him down to lie on your legs. He goes easily, taking his hands back to lean them under his chin, and allowing you full utility of your fingers. You put them to good use, beginning to stoke back stray curls of his mother’s hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear until his breathing evens again.
He watches the sun fall over the edge of the Waystar Royco building: a sight he has seen many times before, but one that feels all the more eerie as the slates of dark metal blot out the light like a flashy tomb.
You bring him back, pursing your lips together and trying not to laugh sorrowfully as he sneezes at the feel of your finger moving down his forehead to trace over the dip of his nose, and evidently tickle it. You move onto the curve of his left eye, and it fills you with at least a little comfort to notice the way he squeezes his eyes shut at the movement. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks of his eyes and began to trace down the old bruised shaped hollows of his cheeks.
‘God Roman’, you choke out, trying to gently turn his head so he’s looking up at you. For a moment, he throws a tantrum and shakes his head in refusal, but your fingers are unrelenting and all forgiving against the side of his jaw, and soon he can’t help but give in to the love he’s so desperately begging for. He allows you to turn him, still squirming in your touch, until the two of you make eye contact. And there’s such naivety there, such desire and craving and conviction and belief as he keeps his eyes trained wholly on yours, that the words just come tumbling out of your mouth.
‘I’m going to fight your whole family I swear. I’m going to fight them all, one by one, and then take over Waystar, maybe find out what the fuck is going on between this Cousin of yours and Shiv’s husband’, he chortles at that, and chokes a little, ‘and then the two of us can burn the place to the ground and ride off into the sunset.’
Although he feels only elation at your words, he starts to shake when you use the pads of his thumbs to gently, tenderly wipe the tears away from beside his nose.
‘Stop, please’, he whimpers, but you know he’s not talking about your physical actions. ‘My dad’s never going to die, even if he is gone. Just- just- get out while you can, okay? Just fucking run.’ He grabs up at your hands, and holds onto one intently. ‘Just fucking go, okay, because I will destroy you. I’m- fucking poison, alright?’
‘No, no’, you state more firmly, when you see the creases in his forehead begin to appear. He shakes his head, and his whole face crinkles up when you admit the one thing left unspoken between the two of you.
‘You - you’re worth it. You’re worth putting up with all of this for, Roman Roy. One day, you’ll be free, and we’ll get to make new memories. Better ones.’
‘Just shut up. Shut the fuck up. Please. Just-’
His words die out on his mouth when you lean down swiftly and replace them with your waiting lips. His hand falls from where it was encircling your wrist, and after a moment of stunned shock, comes up to press firmly against the nape of your neck. His widened eyes melt slowly into a blissful, languid close, and despite the fact that he has no fucking idea how to actually kiss someone he cares about, he does a mighty good job of latching onto your bottom lip and whimpering when you go to pull away.
‘You promise’, he whispers into the tense air between the tip of your nose and the side of his stubble. He leans up to kiss you again, and a bite of saltiness stings at your mouth. ‘You promise’, he murmurs again as he opens his mouth, refusing to break away from the kiss: instead breathing you in and licking the tip of his tongue against your own. Steadying yourself, you grip onto his biceps, and press a last, ardent kiss to his mouth by latching onto his top lip.
‘I swear, Roman, I swear to god I’m going to make up for all the lack of love your family has given you. And I’ll start right now.’
#succession#roman roy#roman roy imagine#roman roy x reader#succession imagine#kendall roy#shiv roy#connor roy#logan roy#roman roy angst#roman roy fluff#kieran culkin#succession fanfic#succession fanfiction
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I daydream a lot about a situation of me comforting Roman Roy after someone treats him badly, and I can't stop thinking about it I CAN'T
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guys, I really NEED to write about roman. please send me requests ❣️
#succession x reader#succession imagine#roman roy#roman roy x reader#roman roy fluff#roman roy x you#roman roy imagine
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hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part two (m).
pairing ; roman roy x f!reader
synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.
words ; 32.0k
themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers
warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, talks of sexual misconduct (cruises incidents), mentions of death, a lot of sexual/suicidal jokes and general foul language, a lot of business talk, phone sex & a handjob, degradation, roman’s implied demisexuality, reader's got a tooth motif bcs all the other roy sibs have their own motifs, a lot of morally grey shit
series masterlist. main masterlist.
The Roy’s summer home in the Hamptons was nothing short of grand. That was always the bare minimum for the family, after all. Though you had been preoccupied with work, having a lot piled up because of your time off for Shiv’s wedding—you had dropped quite a few important meetings to come at Logan’s behest. He called for you, and for all his children, to come to the Hamptons and discuss his plans to sell the company.
You stepped into the home, hands buried within your pockets. Immediately, you were hit by an overwhelmingly foul stench. It smelled an awful lot like rotten meat and, strangely, the piss-sodden alleyways in New York. Your face twisted into a grimace as you strode in, finding Kendall wandering aimlessly downstairs.
“Hey, uh, hi,” he said, awkwardly reaching for a hug when you stuck your arm out for a handshake. The both of you gingerly stepped away from each other.
“What’s that smell?” you asked, knowing full and well that Roman and Shiv were still quite angry with him for basically stabbing them in the back.
“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I think they’re trying to figure that out,” he replied, waving his hands around to gesture to the milling workers. “You, uhm, you’ll get used to it. Listen, Y/N, I know you and Rome are close, so I just wanted to ask if you could… talk to him. For me.”
Arching a brow, you tilted your head. “You can’t talk to him yourself?”
“He’s not… he’s being difficult right now.”
“Understandably so.”
There was a melancholic look to his eyes. “I know. Can you just tell him I’m sorry? I want… I want us to be okay.”
Pursing your lips, you gave him a firm nod. “Okay, yeah, sure. No promises that it’d change anything, though. You know where he is?”
“By the beach. With Shiv.”
With a hum of farewell, you started backing off, making your way to the sandy shores not too far from the house. You spotted their figures in the distance, bundled in dark coats and long scarves. When they spotted you approaching, the both of them waved.
“Hey, guys,” you greeted, smiling brightly.
“Hey, fuck-face,” said Roman, giving you a quick hug, before stepping back to allow Shiv to do the same. “We were all waiting for you.”
“Sorry I’m late—work has been kicking my ass lately.”
Snorting, Roman quipped, “You know you can take a couple days to relax, right? I’m literally your boss.”
“I’m a general manager, Rome. If I stop, that’s a large chunk of Waystar down. I’m trying to keep the company from sinking further into the depths of hell,” you said lightly, crossing your arms. “But it seems like Logan wants to sell it away. What’s our viewpoint?”
The both of them struggled for words.
“If the selling isn’t actually real… like some kind of fucked-up loyalty test, we were just talking about how dad’s going to kill Kendall,” said Shiv, looking none too upset about the prospect. “How that would mean it could be Rome who takes up the mantle.”
That made sense. Connor was not an option, not in Logan’s eyes. He was barely a son to the man, much less the heir to his legacy.
“It could,” you said, careful. “It could also mean you, though.”
Both you and Roman stared Shiv down.
Finally, she caved and shook her head with a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Yes, it could be me.”
Sensing that the two of them were on the verge of another catfight, you quickly intercepted, “I bumped into Kendall in the house just now. He wanted me to, uhm, tell you that he’s sorry.”
Roman’s features twisted. “Well, tell him he can stick his apologies up his ass.”
“I’m not a fucking messenger! Tell him that yourself.”
Rolling her eyes, Shiv jerked her head back to the house. “We should probably get back inside. Dad’s gonna be here any minute by now.”
It was on your trek back that the three of you bumped into Kendall, who was wearing sunglasses even though the sky wasn’t all that visible through the gloomy clouds. Both Shiv and Roman didn’t hesitate to duke out their frustrations on him, asking why he changed his mind on the takeover so quickly.
“You do realize how fucked you’re going to be once you’re no longer of any use to him, right?” asked Roman to his older brother. “He’s got you eating fuckin’ humiliation gumbo on TV, and then what? Nothing.”
Snickering, Shiv added in, “Dad’s gonna play a merry tune on you and then throw you out the fucking window. You know that, right?”
“He’s like a sex robot for dad to fuck,” said Rome.
“He’s like a beaten dog.”
“He’s both of those things—and also a piece of shit.”
To your surprise, Kendall stood by and took all the insults his siblings lobbied at him, expression permanently fixed into one of unadulterated misery. A part of you felt bad for him, but another part of you knew he’d brought this upon himself.
Shiv stepped closer to him, each one of her words saturated in venom. “He’s a fucking narcissist who repeatedly puts his self-interest above everything else, and then tries to justify it with half-assed appeals of the rigors of the fucking market.”
“You’re a fucking prick,” Roman finally tacked on after Shiv’s mini-monologue. He glanced over at you. “Y/N, you wanna throw a punch?”
“What were you thinking, Kendall?” you quietly asked. “In what world did you see yourself winning against your father? And even if you did win, it’d be at the cost of your siblings. Would you kill them for your own personal gain? And not to mention that you relapsed and you’re not getting the help you need. You didn’t even thank Roman and I for picking you up from that addict’s shithole. We got you out of there because we were worried for you. We care about you. And you threw that right back in his face.”
Your words lingered heavily between the four of you.
When Kendall remained as silent as a statue, Roman let out a loud groan, rolling his eyes to the side. “Come on! Fight back, you fuck-bag.”
“Guys, I just… I…” Kendall paused to look off into the waters. “I can’t get into it.”
“Oh, you can’t get into it? Shucks,” Roman mocked. “Fuck you. Come on, man. Treat us! Why did you actually back out?”
Shame flooded his features. He completely disregarded Roman’s question by telling his little sister, “I’m sorry, Shiv. About the wedding.”
There were tears in her eyes. Her father had made her cry after ruining family therapy, and now her older brother was making her cry after ruining her wedding.
“How dare you apologize to me?” she asked, a sharp edge to her tone. With that, she rotated on her heel and strode off.
You and Roman followed after her, your arm linked with his.
“You look like shit, by the way,” Roman murmured to his brother as he brushed past him.
By the time you got back to the house, you caught sight of the cooks dumping the expensive food they’d been preparing and laboring over for hours straight into the trash. When you wondered aloud what was going on, one of them quietly answered that they’d found the source of the smell—a dead raccoon covered in maggots, rotting in the chimney. Logan demanded all the food be removed because it’d been sitting around in the stench, calling for pizza to be ordered instead.
When lunch rolled around, you sat between Roman and Kendall, feeling incredibly tense. The atmosphere between the siblings had yet to clear, and you weren’t quite sure if it ever would. The chatter died away when Logan cleared his throat sharply to quell the commotion and greet the family.
He began with a blunt address of the bear hug situation, which you noticed made Kendall’s foot tap against the floor in agitation.
“I guess the question is… do we really want this fight?” he asked. “Or is now the moment to cash in and fuck off out of the casino?”
Silence. He was met with dead silence.
“If we do fight, I need to tell the board who I want to take over,” said Logan. “So, please—I want you to speak freely.”
His words made Shiv tip her head back and scoff-laugh. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law?”
“Come on! We’re pals here. Let’s fuckin’ have it out!” gruffed Logan as he surveyed the table.
As if to purposefully push her father’s buttons, Shiv crossed her arms and pointedly kept her mouth shut.
Tentative, Kendall spoke, “I think you should fight, but, uh… you’re the one who built it all. The man, the myth, the legend.”
In a condescending tone, Roman crooned, “Aw. That’s adorable. You’re always lookin’ out for Pops, aren’t you?”
“But is he saying Dad should stay on because that’s what Sandy and Stewy would want?” asked Connor with a frown, ever the conspiracist. “How do we know he’s not a double agent?”
“Nice to see you, too, Con,” mumbled Kendall.
Shaking his head, the older brother said, “Hey, Ken, I’m just saying what others are thinking.”
“It’s possible,” Shiv added, narrowing her eyes.
“Should we frisk him for a wire? Burn him? See if he’s a witch?” joked Roman, scratching at the back of his head.
Interrupting the banter, Logan said, “He’s taken his medicine.”
“Taken his medicine?” Shiv parroted in an affronted manner. “Is that it? Dad—you beat Roman with a fucking slipper in Gustav until he cried for ordering lobster, remember? And Kendall tries to kill you and he’s only five minutes out in the cold?”
You remembered that day. When you’d casually told Roman that you preferred lobster over crab. How he tried to order it for you instead of what was already on the table, and how an already ticked-off Logan was tipped over the edge and lost his shit, taking his frustrations out on Roman. The memory of the actual beating itself was hazy—all you could recall were thuds and muffled whimpers, fearful tears on your cheeks. The purple bruises on his face didn’t fade away for a long while. He would try to joke about it, but you never found it funny. You had apologized over and over again, until Roman told you to shut up and forget about it, nonchalantly adding that he wanted the lobster, too. That it wasn’t just for you.
But it was. It was all yours, had Roman been successful in acquiring the crustacean for you. You didn’t need to know that, though.
Trying his best to shrug off Shiv’s words, Roman tilted his head to the side and quipped, “Well, it’s not polite to order the most expensive item on the menu when you’re not paying, Siobhan.”
Logan could dump a billion dollars into an incinerator and that would barely even make a dent on how much wealth he was hoarding, you wanted to say. You kept your mouth firmly shut, biting down on your tongue.
As per typical Logan fashion, he brushed off the call-out of his abuse to his son. “We’re not doing memory lane here. Come on, spit it out. What do you all think? Stick or sell?”
“Well, I think you’re in the prime of your life,” chimed Tom. “I think another decade is just what the doctor ordered.”
From beside you, Roman’s knee nudged into yours as he began miming choking on a dick. You smiled, almost laughing out loud, but caught yourself before you did.
“I, uhm, I think selling seems cool…” began Willa.
“Hey, Dad, Willa thinks selling seems cool!” snorted Roman, which made Willa fall uncomfortably silent.
With a disapproving stare, Connor bit out, “Asshole.”
“You,” said Logan. It took you a moment to realize that he was staring directly at you. Heat prickled at the back of your neck. “What do you think?”
You sat up straighter in your chair. “You’ll be rich enough to live a thousand lives if you sell. You’ll still be rich enough to do so if you stay in the game. The only difference is, you lose your legacy if you go with the former.”
Scrutinizing you, Logan dipped his head and took a sip of champagne. “Mmh, wise words, sure. Not your opinion, though. Not what I asked for. Those are just facts we all fuckin’ know. Bah—don’t waste my time. Fucking useless. Leeching off of me while your parents are parading in a nameless exotic country, drinking their brains into toxic liquid that leaks out of their ears.”
Shame curled within your stomach, and a blistering flush spidered through your skin. You could feel all eyes on you, including Roman’s. You were no stranger to Logan’s verbal abuse, but it’d been a long time since he brought up your parents' and their neglectful nature. The wounds were reopened, and stung much worse than you remembered.
Drumming her fingers against the table, Shiv said, “Dad, I think it’s possible that you’ve somewhat chilled the atmosphere of free-flowing debate here.”
“You know, Kodak was trading at about a hundred dollars a share back in ‘97. Yesterday, you could pick it up for about three bucks. That could be us. If we cash out, we could walk away with ten billion.” Logan glanced at his youngest son, noticing how he’d shuffled his chair closer to you. “Roman. What do you think?”
Swallowing, Roman shrugged. “I dunno, Dad. I fuckin’ love money, but I’m really scared of you, so…” He made a high-pitched noise, barely passable as a laugh. “Yeah, uhm, honestly—I’m not sure I’m willing to give my strategic advice in a public forum when I could just be a, uh, a player in any future moves.”
There was obvious exasperation in Logan’s eyes. Disappointments, the lot of you were in his eyes. Without another word, Logan stood up and began to hobble out of the dining room, pizza left untouched.
“Uhm, Dad?” Roman called out after him, confused.
He didn’t respond.
Roman patted your back twice before getting up as well, following after his father. Shiv was hot on his heels.
One by one, Logan had told them through the door he had closed behind him. He wanted his kids to come in one by one, alone, so that he could have their unfiltered opinion.
Roman went in first, but not before squeezing your hand, and slipping through. When he emerged only ten minutes later, his face was despondent. But his lips were twitching upwards, and you could immediately tell that he was just faking it.
“He’s dying,” he joked with faux anguish. “Riddled with cancer.”
The way Shiv’s brows kinked told him that she didn’t find it all that funny. “Rome.”
“What? It’s a joke. It’s funny. Dad’s got cancer. What’s not funny about that?” You patted his back and nudged him over to the couches, where Connor and Willa were sitting.
The eldest son rolled his eyes. “Sick puppy,” he called Roman.
“No, but seriously, he asked me to run the company.” Dead silence. “I’m kidding. Or am I?”
It was then that Logan called for Shiv to go in. You took Roman’s arm, leading him off into another room, where it was quieter.
“Hope you’re not planning on molesting me back here,” Roman languidly commented, but didn’t fight off your grip. “Nobody would believe me after what I said about Dad—I’d be like the boy who cried wolf.”
“Rome,” you said, partially exasperated, partially somber. “What did he say back there?”
The man across from you scratched at the back of his head. “Honestly? Nothing.”
“Hm?”
“I mean—I explained to him that it’d be smart to sell some shit, keep some shit. Financialize the company. I don’t know. Couldn’t really gauge his reaction—then he just said okay and told me I could go.” Your friend rested his hands on his hips. “Do you think that was smart? Do you, uhm, think he thinks that was stupid?”
It took you another moment to shake your head tentatively. “I think you did the best you could, given the ultimatum. Besides—you wouldn’t really want to run this shitshow, would you?”
He stepped back in an affronted manner. “What do you mean? You don’t think I can do it?”
“It’s not a matter of whether or not you can do it, Ro. It’s about if you want to or not. And I know you wouldn’t. It’s not… it’s not you. You’ve always said the company was like a cage for you.”
The way Roman squared his shoulders told you that he was growing defensive. “Yeah, well, it’s like a fuckin’—a good fuckin’ golden cage. An amazing cage. A cage where I can roll around and throw shit at people. I’d like to stay here for the rest of my life.”
“Do you? Really?”
“What, is this some kind of reverse psychology bullshit Dad put you up to? Just—” He stepped back when you reached out for him. “Fuck off.”
With a huff, you shook your head. “Roman, you need to pull your head out of your fucking ass and realize that I’m the only friend you have. If you can’t trust me, you’re fucked.”
There was a tense beat of silence between you.
Then, he narrowed his eyes on you. “If you stab my back, I’m going to kill you, then throw myself off the highest building I can find. It’ll be like a Shakespearean tragedy.”
“Okay, Rome.”
“I’ll put your head on a spike. Keep it as decoration.”
Slowly, he let you wrap your arms around him. “Okay, Romeo.”
“I’ll pluck your teeth out and wear them around my neck like a string of pearls.”
“Love you, too, Ro,” you said, hugging him tight.
“Yeah, whatever, fuck-face.” He buried his nose into your neck, inhaling sharply. “I knew you were going to molest me.”
The family reconvened later that night, where Logan announced that he decided he was going to keep the company, claiming his ambitions to be the last man standing. Then, he pronounced Roman and Kendall as co-chief operating officers, much to everyone’s dismay.
“We need to stick tight—tighter than ever now,” Logan defended when Roman began to protest.
“But he—no. No, I’m sorry. Excuse me? He… he tried to help your oldest enemy to take over and now he’s getting a fucking promotion? Is that what’s happening?” Rome asked from beside you, arms crossed over his chest.
The old man nodded. “That’s my decision.”
“Well, it’s bullshit,” Roman declared.
Quiet settled over the group.
Like a dog being kicked, Roman withered away beneath his father’s contemptuous stare. You put a hand on his shoulder.
“And you’re going to name a successor?” Connor asked.
“After some consideration, I think we just need a name to flag privately to big investors for now. I mean, it could be anyone. I’m not going anywhere. Could be a stuffed fuckin’ shirt. Could be Y/N, for all I know.”
Did he just compare you to a stuffed shirt—?
“Gerri,” said Logan. “It could be Gerri. We might as well say it’s Gerri.”
With a quirked brow, Shiv said, “Congratulations.”
Her godmother tilted her head and shifted in her seat. “Wow. Okay. Thank you.”
“It won’t be Gerri,” Logan rudely clarified. “But Gerri’s fine. Just so we’re clear.”
She was an expert at hiding her disdain, clearing her throat slightly. “No, yeah, I think we’re very clear.”
With that, Logan dismissed himself, calling for Kendall to follow after him. His number one boy.
It was clear that Roman was still upset. He pulled away from you to go sulk about to his sister.
That night, when the moon shone brighter in the Roy’s summer home than it ever did in the city, and you were buried under a thick blanket, you felt the mattress dip beneath another person’s weight. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Roman.
“Shut up,” he gruffed when you smiled ever so slightly, even though you hadn’t said anything.
You hummed pleasantly when he curled his arms around your form like a koala would a tree. The two of you fell asleep that way, breathing each other in and dreaming of necklaces made of teeth.
The acquisition to take on PGM was a bad fucking idea. One of the worst you’ve heard, in fact. When Logan brought it up to you and a few other managers during a meeting, you didn’t hesitate to go bee-lining for Roman’s office, demanding him to tell you every single detail.
“So, you think this is, like, not good?” he asked, voice high-pitched and unstable. Just earlier today, he’d been telling his dad and Shiv what a great idea this was.
“No, Roman. It’s not fucking good. I’m sorry, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want the most trustworthy news source in America right now to be adopted into a fuckin’... fascist, right-wing, conservative dick jerking fest!” You drummed your fingers against his table. “Ro, this can’t happen. It could very well tank Waystar, and news media outlets in general. Reliability goes down, money goes down, our rivals go up. The political climate couldn’t handle such a change like this—”
Pulling at his face, Roman shook his head. “Fuckin’ political climate. Everything’s about the political climate these days. Fuck!”
“Roman, I’m being serious,” you said, brows furrowing.
He sucked in a deep breath. “Fuck. Ugh—fuck! You are… you’re so…” He made an unintelligible noise while shaking his fists at you, nose wrinkling. “You’re right. God. I hate saying that. Feels like I just took a bite out of a rock. But even if you are, I can’t just stab dad in the back like that.”
Shoulders loosening, you nodded in understanding. “What’re you gonna do?”
“Tabitha is friends with Naomi Pierce. I’ll ask her to get me in touch,” Roman said, lips pursed to the side. It didn’t go past your notice that his stance on the Pierce situation was still left ambiguous.
Your eyebrows raised a fraction. “Tabitha? You guys still going steady?”
“Uh-huh. Yup. Never better,” he replied, a tad too quickly.
“Really?” you asked. To none of his surprise, you read him like an open book. “You must really like her.”
“Mhm.”
“But not like-like her?”
Roman clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth in distaste. “What are you, nine?”
“You didn’t say yes,” you said in a sing-song voice. Then, you sobered up to seriously tell him, “Oh, Ro, she’s a great catch, sure, but if you don’t have romantic feelings for her, then don’t string her along like that.”
Rolling his eyes to the side, Roman tried his best to sidestep the topic. “It’s none of your beeswax, you prick. Anyways—you’re coming to Hungary, right? Corporate retreat and all that jazz.”
You didn’t feel like the conversation about Tabitha was quite over, but you let it slide for now. “Yes, Roman. Not really looking forward to it, now that I have to deal with an entire acquisition worth billions hovering over me.”
“Just relax for now—it’s not concrete, even if dad says it is.” Roman stood up from his desk to go pour himself a drink. “I’ll save you a spot on the plane. Next to me, if I’m feeling nice. Next to Greg if I want to be entertained by watching you kill yourself in front of him.”
“Thanks, Romeo,” you dryly said.
“You’re welcome. Okay, you can go away now. I wanna jerk off in front of the window without you watching this time. If you stay, I’ll fuck you against it, and that’d be my one-way ticket to a stern finger-wagging by HR.”
With a snort, you got up from your chair, heading for the door. You couldn’t help the way your cheeks burst aflame at his words, even though you knew it was just light-hearted banter. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, you fuckin’ slut.”
“Bitch,” he shot back, just as you stepped foot out of his office.
“Whore!” you yelled over your shoulder, loud enough to have a few employees turn their head curiously.
Roman watched you go through the glass windows, shaking his head with fond amusement.
The estate in Hungary was surrounded by forests and clean air—a stark contrast to New York. You were walking alongside Roman down to the hunting grounds, hands shoved into the pockets of your jacket. The rifle slung across his shoulder kept bumping into you, and you would push him away with a mild grin each time it did. He wasn’t very good at walking straight, eventually colliding into you mere minutes later.
The amicable atmosphere was effectively killed when Kendall approached the two of you, solemn-faced as ever.
“Hey, guys,” he greeted in a monotone voice. “Listen, I have a question.”
Both of you stared at him, waiting for him to go on.
After an awfully lengthy pause he continued, “So, uh, did you guys get a call from that biographer?”
Right. You’d been in the middle of discussing with Tom how he’d landed a top position at ATN when your phone began to ring. You politely excused yourself to take the call, surprised to hear a woman claiming to write an unauthorized biography on your godfather—and she wanted you as a source. Though you had many opinions on a man, you knew that voicing them would be nothing but trouble for you.
Roman rolled his eyes. “I mean, yeah, obviously. I’m the interesting one, after all.”
When you laughed, Roman grinned along with you.
“I got a call, too,” you admitted. “Did you?”
Tilting his head into a nod, Kendall mumbled, “Yeah. I did.”
“Well? Are you thinking of talking to her?” asked Roman.
“I don’t know,” Kendall said. “Maybe. You guys?”
“No… but if you’re going to talk to her, then I guess I have to talk to her, too. Just to correct your bullshit,” Roman responded.
Two seconds of silence before you huffed out a sigh. “It's a messy business that I don’t want to involve myself in. If Logan finds out, which I’m sure he will, I’m not going to let myself be killed because of it.”
The two started talking about Pierce. Both of them sounded so awfully fake about the entire ordeal that you wanted to bash their heads together and force them not to speak through a brown nosing filter. Their conversation came to a halt when Roman’s phone began to ring, and he stepped away to answer privately, much to Kendall’s chagrin.
“Hey, Kendall,” you broached, rocking your weight back and forth on your heels. “If you talk to that writer, Logan won’t be as forgiving to you this time. He’ll slit your throat in front of everyone to see.”
The man who you onced looked up to as an older brother stared at you with a dead expression. “I know,” was all he said.
Once Roman came ambling back, Kendall began to interrogate him about the call. Defensive, Roman lied—you knew he was. He had an obvious tell: the way his nose would twitch and his left eye went all squinty. The older brother told him he was full of shit.
Before they could break out in another argument, a Hungarian hunter came up to the three of you, claiming that the truck was ready to take them out into the wilderness.
“Let’s go murder a terrified mammal,” quipped Roman, taking your hand and leading you away from Kendall.
The hunting party returned to the estate with four boars. You took no part in the killings, having stayed in the truck to speak to Gerri on the phone. Apparently, she had very strong doubts about adopting PGM, and wanted to know if you felt the same. You were Logan’s family, she had said, and he listened to family more than his own general counsel.
You told her you would if you could, but Logan was adamant on taking on PGM. No amount of needless peddling would sway his mind.
Hours later, when the sky was dark and the table was laid out with all sorts of fruits and glasses of spiced wines, everybody was seated for dinner. You sat between Roman and Gerri, speaking to both of them in hushed whispers about nothing quite important.
The amicable atmosphere was shattered when Logan stood up to address everybody.
“Someone has spoken to Michelle Pantsil.” The biographer.
Both you and Roman glanced at each other, knowing that it was neither of you. Was it possibly Kendall? Had he been lying to the both of you again? Or had it been someone else? Tom? Greg? Gerri? Frank?
“We’ve got rats on this ship,” continued your godfather, rounding behind people’s chairs in a menacing, domineering manner. “And Pierce—who’s got my back, hm? Who’s really behind me? Anyone wanna own up? Hm? Anyone want to rat out a rat?”
Ah. So it seemed Pierce knew of Logan’s moves now. You didn’t dare chance a glance at Roman, knowing it was him who had told Naomi.
Logan began to sharply question a few people at the table, demanding to know if they had anything they wanted to say to him. It shocked you even further when he barked out an order for everyone to put their phones on the table—both company and private.
“Is that really necessary?” asked Gerri. “I’m not even sure if that’s legal to demand people to—”
“Yeah, well, we’re getting down to brass fucking tacks,” spat Logan, eyeing everybody darkly. You did as he said, placing both of your devices onto the table—you had nothing to hide. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Roman slipping his phone beneath his leg.
When he caught your gaze, his head dipped forward a bit and his eyebrows pulled together. Shut up, his eyes seemed to tell you. Even without verbalizing it, he still somehow managed to be rude to you.
You narrowed them back at him, wordlessly telling him not to worry.
“Karl, do you like the Pierce deal?” Logan queried.
“I do. Yes, I do. Yes, yeah.”
With a dry chuckle, Logan shook his head. “Bullshit. Boar on the floor.”
The two men began their back and forth—Logan commanding Karl to stand in the corner whilst the former sputtered out indignant protests. It was embarrassing and humiliating, and he was going to do it all anyway.
“Tom.”
“Me? Uh, Pierce?”
“Yes,” said an exasperated Logan.
Clearing his throat, Tom hesitantly said, “Well, there’s a lot of factors, but uhm, yes. Personally, I like it. I do.”
“Boar on the fucking floor, over there,” gruffed your godfather, pointing over to where Karl stood.
With no protest, Tom pushed away from the table and slunk off.
“Gerri! Stand up! Tell me about Pierce.”
Her gaze stayed on her untouched plate as she got onto her feet. “Well, to be perfectly honest with you… I’ve, uhm, I’ve had a few doubts.”
“Honesty,” Logan finally said. “You see, everybody? Do you see? Honesty. Greg, stand up! Did you get any orders from my brother? The fucking Conscience of the Prairies?”
Everybody watched as Greg stammered out a near incoherent response. He was sent off to stand next to Tom and Karl, as well. This seemed to be Roman’s breaking point, because he burst into a fit of giggles.
“Roman!” barked his father.
This brought him back to sobriety. “I like it, Dad, for real—”
“Stand the fuck up!”
With a bitter murmur beneath his breath, Roman got up to his feet. With discreet motions, you silently swiped the phone from his chair and placed it beneath your leg so it wouldn’t be seen by his father.
Desperate to divert the attention away from him, Roman said, “Kendall took a call from the biographer.”
Logan rested his hands upon Kendall’s shoulders, which made Roman bristle even harder. His older brother droned out, “We all got a call, Rome. Y/N, too.”
“Okay, yes, but you—you seemed like you actually wanted to talk to her.”
“To smoke you out for Dad.”
Roman’s nose wrinkled. “What? Fuck you! Why’d you get to smoke me out? I was smokin’ you out!”
As you watched Logan’s fingers curl into Kendall’s shirt, you couldn’t help but think of him as a meat puppet of sorts. So damaged and broken and directionless, ready to heed every single one of his father’s words.
“Why don’t you tell us about your mystery call?”
“Oh, the phone call?” Roman propped a hand on his hip, risking a glance at you. Then, he violently began to scratch at the back of his head. “Yeah, sure, it was Frank. He meant to call you, he wants to know if the plan to overthrow Dad is still happening. ”
Finally pulling away from Kendall, Logan’s voice rang out across the room like a slap to the face. “Someone spiked Pierce. Which one of you boars did it?”
He yelled for the three men in the corner to get down on their knees, claiming it was a game. Your godfather, now more of a monster than a man, called for everyone to get up and cheer, “Boar on the floor!” as Tom, Greg, and Karl scrambled about to eat a sausage that was tossed to them in order to prove their loyalty. He demanded they oink and squeal like real piggies would.
It was cruel and animalistic. And Roman was filming with his personal phone, a sadistic smile on his face.
You would’ve berated him for it, if not for Kendall cornering you against the wall when everybody else was distracted by the Boar on the Floor spectacle.
“I know you took Roman’s phone. I saw you,” he said, eyes flickering down to your pockets, where you had hidden away the mobile.
“Fuck off, Kendall,” you responded with a daggered edge. “You touch me, and I’ll bite your fucking head off.”
“I thought you were smarter than this,” he told you. “Defending my brother—do you know how many times he’s fucked you over? How many times he’ll keep fucking you over?”
Curling your upper lip in contempt, you spat out, “Get the fuck away from me, Kendall. What’s wrong with you?”
Suddenly, his hand shot out to grab Roman’s company phone from your pocket, prompting you to shove at him, trying to grab the phone back. The commotion caught the attention of everyone else, Roman included.
He was quick to step forward, pulling you away from his brother so he could try to yank the device away himself.
“What the fuck? Give me my fucking phone back, asshole!”
“What are you hiding? What’s the code?”
“Are you fucking serious? My code is, uhm, fuck you—”
The two of them began to tussle, arguing indistinctly as they pulled at each other’s hair and limbs. You stepped back, burying your face in your hands in utter exhaustion.
When Kendall locked Roman in a chokehold, Roman finally keyed in his PIN, shoving his older brother away with a labored breath.
“Okay, you got it! You fuckin’ happy? There’s nothing in there. Now give it back—give me my fucking phone!” When he began advancing on his brother again, Colin stepped in to keep him at bay. “What, are you going to touch me, too? Grab my fucking balls—I will drop you, you cocksucker!”
Finally, Kendall opened up Roman’s call history, not at all to see Naomi Pierce at the very top. He didn’t hesitate to tell his father.
“Dad, it was Roman. Roman talked to Pierce.”
Panic weaving through his tone, Roman shook his head. “Dad—I didn’t… I didn’t betray you.”
“Then what’s this call from today?” asked Kendall, holding up the phone. “Why are you talking to her?”
For a moment, Roman’s eyes flickered over to you. “Come on, man. I wasn’t trying to fuck the deal. I was trying to land the deal. I was trying to help—I thought it would be a… a nice surprise.”
His words struck you across the face like a slap. Roman had told you that you were right—that acquiring PGM was a terrible idea. You’d thought he was on your side. And now—it seemed like he was doing it all for his father’s favor. The best of both worlds, blew right up in his face.
“Roman,” began Logan, “you’re a moron.”
Crackling silence.
Kendall cleared his throat. “Boar on the floor?”
Having enough of him, you snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Kendall.”
“Y/N was helping him,” said Kendall. “Tried hiding his phone from the table.”
Logan swung his heated, intense gaze onto you. It took all you had within you not to flinch away.
“I didn’t know what Roman was doing. I just didn’t want to get him in trouble.”
Your godfather shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “How sweet,” he spat. “The two of you are perfect for each other. Fucking morons!”
“Dad,” said Roman, voice warbling. “I am not a moron. She isn’t, either. Y/N, tell him—tell him why you thought PGM was a bad idea.”
Everybody’s eyes were on you. Suddenly, your throat went dry, and all words flew out of your vocabulary. You shook your head, a defeated sigh falling from your lips. Roman’s shoulders drooped with the weight of shame and loss.
“How much is a gallon of milk?” Logan suddenly asked his youngest son, advancing on him until he withered beneath his father’s glare.
“What?”
“How much is a gallon of fucking milk?”
Confused beyond his mind, Roman said, “I don’t know. I mean, who the fuck knows, Dad? Literally nobody knows! Who gives a shit?”
“Greg! How much is a gallon of milk?”
The lanky man stammered out, “Uh, I mean, like, regular milk, or—?”
Burying his face into his hands, not unlike you had done earlier, Logan sighed out, “I am surrounded by snakes and fucking morons! You’re a bunch of silk-stocking fucks! Who backs me on Pierce, huh? Who?”
When he was met by silence, Kendall answered in everyone’s stead.
“None of them do, Dad. They’re all against it. Karl’s lying, Tom’s lying, Gerri’s playing both sides, Y/N is very clearly against what you’re doing.”
Hot shame curled within your gut. Though you were steadfast in your beliefs against taking PGM, disappointing your father figure was never a pleasant sensation, no matter how terrible he was.
“Uncle Logan, I’m sorry—” you began, but he was quick to shut you down.
“Don’t go sucking my dick now, girl. It’s too fucking late. You’re lucky your brainless parents are major shareholders, or I would’ve fired you a dozen times by now. Do you know that? How fucking worthless you are?”
Tears pricked the corner of your eyes. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, training your gaze onto the ground.
“Here’s the news,” Logan said, addressing the entire group now. “We are going after it. And what’s more… I will win.”
With that, he stormed off, disappearing somewhere in the vast house.
“Hey,” Roman tried to speak to you, but you maneuvered away, disappearing up some stairs, where your room was waiting for you.
It took a lot of indecisive thought, but you left the door unlocked.
To none of your surprise, Roman came crawling into your room when everybody was asleep. He slipped into the empty spot beside you, slurring out a litany of nonsensical apologies mixed in with how much of an asshole Kendall was.
“You’re drunk,” you whispered, pushing his face away. You hadn’t the heart to be angry at him. Not this late at night. Not when he was just as upset as you were about what had transpired during dinner. “Go to sleep, Rome.”
“Give me a kiss g’night. And tell me you forgive me.”
“Ro—”
“Just—just fucking do it! Don’t ask me stupid questions.”
Shifting in the bed, you leaned forward to press light kisses to both his fluttering eyelids. “We’re good, Romeo. I don’t know. I’m mad at you, but not as much as I’m mad at Kendall and your dad. I’m your only friend, remember? I love you, asshole.”
“Yeah. Shut up.” His hands curled over your waist and pulled you close. “Say that again.”
There was a laugh in your voice. “What? That I’m your only friend?”
He prodded your side with a stiff finger. “The fuckin’... the love thing.”
A part of you contemplated telling him to fuck off. But the wide, warbling brown of his irises told you that he was desperate to hear it. Desperate for any crumb of affection he was offered. “Mhm. I love you, Ro. I do. Now go to sleep.”
He lazily blinked at you, as if he was a cat. “Don’t be mad if I puke all over you.”
“I won’t be mad.”
“I’d be mad if you puked all over me. Why wouldn’t you be mad at me?”
“Go to sleep, Rome.”
“Night. You smell good, you know? Like if a unicorn had sex with a bouquet of flowers.” Without warning, he sank his teeth into your neck, and you had to physically pry his teeth from your skin to keep him from using you like a chew toy.
Muffling a yawn, you murmured, “Go to sleep before I euthanize you.”
It took him another hour to finally drift off, but when he did, the two of you slept better than you had in months.
Roman was terribly hungover the next morning. Headaches and droopy lids, barely registering your voice telling him to get up. When he finally rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he noticed that you were already dressed for the day, having gotten ready while he was passed out.
“Everyone’s waiting for you, Ro,” you gently told him, brushing his hair out of his face and then taking his hands to tug him off the bed. “Go wash up. Come on, stinker.”
He let you push him around, handing him the toothbrush and a cup of water to drink once he was done washing up. You turned to give him some privacy to change, but his fingers just couldn’t seem to button his buttons right.
“These fuckin’ things—like they’re made of soap or something—”
With a light sigh, you rotated back around. “Come here, you big baby.” You straightened out his collar before slipping the buttons through their respective holes with ease.
“Dad’s killing me. He’s cutting my fucking balls off.”
You watched him with a sympathetic gaze. “He won’t do that. He doesn’t see you as a threat.”
“That’s not the compliment you think it is.”
“I wasn’t trying to compliment you.”
Roman watched as you fastened together the last button for him, but you didn’t step away, staying close by him.
“If I was capable of any sudden movement, I would totally pounce on you right now. I like your shirt—is that a new shirt?”
“I’ve had it for four years,” you deadpanned.
“Hm. Old shirt. You should throw it out.” To his relief, you smiled at him.
Patting his cheek once, you asked, “Are you okay? How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know. I’m fucking terrible. But I should be asking you the same. Dad took a beating on the both of us.”
Memories of last night made your nose wrinkle in distaste.
“I think everyone was just… caught up in the heat of the moment. I don’t think your dad meant everything he said.” He did, you knew he did.
Shaking his head, Roman slunk away to go put on his shoes. “He thinks I’m a moron. The worst of his seed, or whatever the fuck. How am I supposed to get him to take me seriously? Grow a mustache and read the Journal? I’ll fucking do it.”
“Don’t grow a mustache. You’ll look like you came straight out of a shitty European porno.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Ignoring him, you sat down beside the disorderly man, pulling on your own dress shoes and knotting together the laces, before helping him tie his, because his fingers suddenly decided not to work this morning. “Gerri told me I should convince you to go to management training. Because, you know—tada. Your only friend is one of the company’s head managers. Lucky you.”
“What, she and Dad want you to be my teacher? Sounds like a sexual fantasy to me.”
“It probably won’t be me. Might be a lower-level manager. But I’d come to visit! Get you in the spirit of things.”
Roman snorted. “Ugh. I don’t want to go back to classes. I’ll kill myself.”
“Don’t be dramatic. Let’s at least have some breakfast first.”
A week later, Roman was enrolled into the management training program, much to Gerri’s relief. She’d thanked you for convincing him, and you told her that it barely took any effort at all. Really, he just wanted to become better in his Dad’s eyes.
You were swamped with work as usual, occasionally checking your phone to see a long strings of texts from Roman, complaining and whining about the torture they were putting him through (they made him watch a video about ethical conduct in a workplace).
When Roman called you the first time, you declined because you were in a meeting. You declined the second time as well, because you really had to concentrate on filling out important documents. By the time your phone rang again, you were in between tasks, and picked up with a grouchy, “What, Roman?”
“Yowza, who put that stick up your ass?” his voice came through. His high pitched laughter followed. “It’s fucking hell here. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Sorry,” you replied, pinching your brows. “It’s been terrible up here, too. I’ve got a lot of shit on my plate. This acquisition really isn’t helping.”
“Are you coming?” he asked.
Blinking, you shifted the phone in your palm. “Coming where? To your training?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Mmh, I’m sorry, Ro. I really would, but I’m just up to my head with work. But I’m proud of you! Really, I am.”
“Oh, you are? Fuck you,” he snapped.
You took no offense to his bitterness. “Fuck you back. This is good, what you’re doing, Romeo.”
“Yeah, I know���I’m gonna grow up to be a real little boy and learn the price of an egg, and do… phone sex with my girlfriend like a normo.”
Laughing, you knocked your head back with a grin. “Y’know, phone sex is more kinky than anything. If you wanna be normal, you look her in the eyes during missionary sex and tell her you love her.”
“Pfft. Yeah, right. Do people actually do that? That sounds disgusting.”
“Yes, people actually do that. Have you ever considered that you’re the disgusting one?”
“Don’t be mean, this is my first day of training, you bitch.”
From his tone, you could tell he was smiling, too.
“Seems like you’ve been complaining to me more than actually paying attention.”
“I can’t help it. The videos are too fucking long. It’s like trying to teach Beethoven how to play hot cross buns on the piano.”
You laughed, and Roman felt a certain warmth pool in his chest.
“You can do it, Ro. I believe in you.”
“Thanks, mommy,” he teasingly replied.
Your phone began to buzz with another call. “Ah—sorry, Rome, I gotta go. See you later, okay?”
Before he could say his grumpy goodbyes, you’d already hung up. To your surprise, your screen displayed the called ID of your godfather. Your palms suddenly grew clammy.
When you answered, his voice was soft and amicable—a stark contrast to what it was like in Hungary.
“Hello, dear. Hope you’re well.”
The rest of the call went surprisingly fine. Logan wanted you to go over to his office to run through some analytics and, apparently, he wanted to apologize to you in person. Mend the broken bridges, he had said. You weren’t entirely sure if there was another game he was playing at, but you couldn’t say no to him. He was your top boss, after all.
Just as you slipped through the glass doors with a hesitant smile, a loud bang sounded from somewhere on the floor. You flinched, eyes widening.
A gunshot.
Terror wrapped its dark hands around you when security guards quickly took you by the arm, guiding you around bends and corners, before finally leading you into a panic room. Logan came in behind you, looking mildly distraught.
“Are you okay?” you asked, helping him sit down and giving him a loose hug.
“Fine, fine. Where’s Siobhan? Kendall?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
When you felt down your pants for your phone, you let out a frustrated sigh when you couldn’t find it anywhere on you. You must’ve dropped it during all the commotion to get to the safe room. You settled into a seat across from Logan, watching the news on the television, your leg bouncing up and down with agitation.
A few minutes later, Shiv showed up, embracing her dad with a chaste kiss. She gave you a hug as well, cheek pressing against yours.
“Do you know what’s going on?”
“No, I don’t. Where’s Tom?”
She pulled away to call her husband, and you slumped back into your chair.
Down on ground level, Roman was still in his training class, watching his partner begin to present his idea for a new ride, when a man burst through the doors, calling out Mr. Roy!
Well, there goes his chance to pretend to be a normo.
“Just in case you get a news alert on your phone, there’s been an incident at ATN.”
Roman’s brows quirked downwards. “Is my dad okay?”
“It’s been suggested that it could be a concerted attack against the family. Do you want us to take you to a more secure location?”
“Yeah, of course I want that—get me the fuck out of here!” The guard began ushering him out of the class, down the hall to a more ‘secure’ space, which was clearly just an inventory room. “So, uh, does an attack against the family include, like, godchildren, too? Or just, uh, direct blood-related shit?”
“I don’t know yet, sir. All we know so far is that there was a gunshot in the building.”
Panic began to settle in Roman’s chest. He fished out his phone from his pants and called you. No answer.
He texted you, over and over again.
Hey
Fuckface
You heard about this shooting bullshit? I thought they only went for schools nowadays.
Answer me
Bitch
Right fucking now
Can you pick up?
Hello
Helloooooooooo
🖕
Hahaha funny joke!
Now fucking pick up
It didn’t quite occur to Roman that he should probably call his siblings just yet. He was far too caught up with the idea of you lying on the ground somewhere, bleeding out to death. Certainly not a pleasant thought.
He called you again, and nearly threw his phone across the inventory—safe room when you didn’t pick up.
What the fuck
Please answer me it’s not funny anymore
If you’re dead I’ll kill you
I’m being serious
Hello?
Please answer
You can’t be dead it’s literally not possible
He called a third time, and there was no response. Growing increasingly worried, Roman finally called his twin sister, who responded after the second ring.
“Hey, Rome. You okay?”
“Yeah, whatever. Is Y/N okay?” he hurriedly asked, itching at the back of his neck.
“She’s fine. Here with me in the safe room. I’m fine too, by the way. Thanks for asking.”
“Fuck off, just put me on the phone with her!”
A second later, your voice came through, and Roman nearly melted onto the floor in relief.
“Hello? Rome? Are you okay?”
“You fucking bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you were fucking dead! Why didn’t you answer any of my texts?”
If not for the situation at hand, you would’ve laughed at how worked up he sounded. “I lost my phone when the gunshot sounded out. Sorry, Ro. It happened so quickly. They’re saying it was a suicide. But I’m not really sure—Gerri’s filling me in.”
“So you’re, like, okay? Actually okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Ugh, fuck you. Go to hell!” he barked into the phone, right before hanging up.
You stood, still stunned, handing Shiv’s phone back to her with a quiet word of thanks.
Curled up in the corner of the inventory room, Roman found out that he and Brian had won for best pitch for a ride in the class. He smiled a little, then followed out after his partner to make sure that he wasn’t fibbing.
“I slaughtered them, you know? Everyone in that fucking training class grovels at my feet now,” Roman told Tabitha on the phone. “They’re jealous! And that’s all there is to it. Anyways, um, how are you?”
“Good!” she told him. “I’m about to get in the bath.”
“Oh, yeah?” Roman took a long pause. “Uh, y’know, Y/N told me that phone sex is kinda… kinky. You wanna…?”
On the other side of the line, Tabitha smiled, putting her phone on speaker. “Mmh, alright. I’m making the bath real sudsy.”
“Is that because you’re dirty?”
“I am. I’m a dirty, dirty girl.”
“Yeah, you are. And I would love to fuck you.”
She laughed, light and airy. “I’m so wet for you right now.”
A long pause. Roman winced. “Uh, that’s not… well, you don’t have to be so specific.”
“I’m… being sexy?”
“Yeah, it’s just—could you not do that thing? With your voice? It’s, like, breathy and unnatural.”
Sucking in a frustrated lungful of air, Tabitha shook her head. “That’s what I sound like when I’m turned on, Roman.”
“I know, I just… I don’t like it, so—” He made his way to the bed and laid down. “Let’s just be normal. Let’s be normal. Casual.”
“Normal? Okay, I was just trying to get into it but…”
“No, I’m sorry, yeah, you’re right.” He cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice. “Um, I’m fucking you in the pussy. I’m fucking you hard.”
Tabitha pursed her lips. “Amazing. What are you gonna do next, change your water filter cartridge?”
Rolling his eyes, Roman sighed out, exasperated, “Jesus fucking Christ—oh, look at that, I’m coming! I’m coming! Ah, wow, I came! Thank you! Hooray! Bye.”
Abruptly, he hung up, not unsimilar to what he did to you earlier to you in the day. Guilt suddenly flushed through him—he probably should give you a call. Say he’s sorry.
It only took one ring for you to pick up, and he could tell that you were smiling on the other end. “Hey, Romeo. Didn’t think you had the emotional capacity to talk to me after thinking I was dead.”
Roman rubbed his left eye. “Fuck you. So are you, uh, okay?”
“You already asked me that, Rome.”
“No, like—mentally or whatever. Must’ve been scary. Ooh.” He made a ghost-esque noise, but cringed upon realizing that that probably wasn’t appropriate.
Nonetheless, you scoffed through the phone. “It was jarring, but I’ll be okay. How’d training go?”
“I mean, it’s fuckin’ bullshit but I won the stupid ride pitch thing. They should have it built.”
There was some rustling of sheets. Roman wondered if you were clambering into bed. He wondered what you were wearing.
“You really think they’ll build you the ride after your first day in management training? Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ve got money. They’ll build whatever I want them to fuckin’ build.”
“You know who you sound like? Like Joffrey Baratheon, from that show I made you watch. The one you never paid attention to unless there was a pair of tits on screen. Spoiled little shits, the both of you.”
With an affronted gasp, he said, “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m technically your boss.”
You giggled. “Don’t pull the boss card on me, Roman. You’ve slept in my bed more times than in your own. That’s fucking… that’s like power play, right there.”
“Yeah?” Roman could feel a rush of blood go straight to his dick, which began to strain against his pants. “D’you think we’d get in trouble if we ever…”
There was a long moment of silence. Static filled in Roman’s ears.
“If we what, Roman?” you asked, voice quiet.
Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Roman blurted out, “I tried the fuckin’ normie phone sex with Tabitha.”
“And?”
“She got turned on.”
“Uh, congratulations?”
“I didn’t like it.”
“Oh. Why not? You like your sex dirtier? Wrong?” You began to chuckle, but it tapered away when Roman went silent on the other end of the phone. More rustling blankets. “Oh, fuck, Roman. You’re an idiot, you know that?”
You could hear the sound of his belt unbuckling.
“What else am I?” His voice was breathy. Whiny, almost.
“This is wrong, Romeo. I can’t… you’re dating Tabitha, remember?”
“Just keep—keep talking.” When his hand wrapped around his hard dick, weeping with pearly precum, Roman wondered if he’d bust his nut right then and there.
After a few seconds of silence, you tentatively continued, “You’re disgusting, Rome. What’s wrong with you? Touching yourself to my voice when your girlfriend was left high and dry for you.”
He began to stroke himself, eyes fluttering shut. A strained moan fell from his lips. Neither of you had ever ventured this into this territory in your relationship before. Sure, sexual jokes were always passed back and forth between the two of you but this was—this was real. Wasn’t it?
“Mmh, I don’t want you to cum yet, Ro.” You clutched the phone close to your ear.
A choked noise emitted from his throat. “I can’t—I can’t hold it—”
“Hold it.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to cum with you.” More rustling on the other end as you kicked your pants and underwear down, dragging your finger around your clit.
This seemed to send Roman into another fit of whines—the thought of you fucking yourself on your own fingers to him made his mind go all hazy.
“Romey, tell me,” you whispered. “Out of all those times we slept in the same bed together—did you ever imagine fucking me while I was asleep? Like a sick little pervert?”
A groan climbed up the back of Roman’s throat. His pace slowed down, trying his best not to cum prematurely. “Yes, all the fucking time. Yes—” His words died on his tongue as he moaned again, and again, and again—
“God, Ro.” You stifled a gasp when you plunged two fingers into your throbbing cunt. It’d been a long while since you’d had the time to touch yourself—it was no surprise that you were already on the brink of an orgasm. “Have you touched yourself to me before? I’m sure you have. You sick fuck.”
The vein in Roman’s forehead popped as he bucked his hips into his fist. “Fuck, yes! Yes, please, Y/N, please—”
“Please, what?” You moaned yourself, grinding into your palm. “You wanna cum, baby? I wanna hear you make a mess of yourself. Like the dirty fucking pervert you are.”
With those words, Roman toppled off the edge, spurts of warm cum dribbling from his throbbing cock, soaking his fist with its sticky mess. He fucked himself through his high, whining with overstimulation at the sound of your own choked sighs.
Breathily, he whimpered, “What else? Please, what else? What would you do if you were here with me?”
“Mmh, if I was there, I’d make you lick your cum off of me. I’d ride your face until you pass out—oh!”
A creak of the bed as you arched your back, crying out his name, cresting over the peak yourself.
More silence. Labored breaths.
You swallowed heavily, skin glowing with a faint sheen of sweat. The haze of your orgasm was beginning to dissipate, and you were coming back to your own senses. “Fuck—I’m sorry, Ro. I don’t... I don’t think we should’ve done that.”
He blew out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, we shouldn’t have.” His chest rose and fell unevenly. “But it was fucking amazing.”
“It was.” You ran your tongue along your teeth in thought. “I’m gonna go, uhm, clean myself up, Ro. G’night.”
“Mmh. Night.”
“This doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still best friends?”
Roman screwed his lips up to the side. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Totally. BFFs for liferz, or whatever cheesy fucking bullshit you need to hear.”
You scoffed. Things would be okay with the two of you. They always worked out in the end. “See you soon, slut.”
“Hey, Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Romeo.”
“Mmkay, bye, fuck-face.”
With that, the call ended.
Weeks later, the Roy family was to spend the weekend with the Pierces at their family estate. You figured the reason why Logan had called you to his office right before the suicide was because he wanted you to come along and play mediator—the Pierces were a rather articulate and fanciful family. According to your godfather, they aligned much more with your and Shiv’s politics than his. It reminded you how you were nothing but a pawn on the chessboard for him to maneuver.
Regardless, you knew you couldn’t say no. Even though he knew you didn’t support the Pierce acquisition, you were a valuable asset and that could potentially be beneficial for both parties. Besides, the Pierces were a powerful family. Having them as allies would be good for you.
You were lounging on the couch beside Shiv and Tabitha when Roman strode into his father’s house, bowing down dramatically.
“How was summer camp?” she teased her twin.
“Hm? What’s that? Didn’t catch what you said. I’ve been down in the salt mines for so long with my fellow Johnny Lunchpails, I no longer speak One-Percent,” he said when he bent down to kiss Tab’s cheek.
Snorting, Shiv retorted, “You were slinging candy apples, Rome, not digging the Panama Canal.”
“I’ve seen the world for how it really is, Siobhan, and it has changed me! I’m a kettle corn shoveler, here to show you frilly clit-flickers the truth. Hullo, Y/N. You look lovely.” He patted your cheek thrice, and you swatted his hand away before the fourth. A part of you had been worrying for the past few days about your relationship with Roman. Would things change after what had happened over the phone? Or was it all just… no big deal?
To your relief, the two of you seemed to be just the same as before.
“Hey, Rome. Nice to see you’ve been so… humbled. Tell me, if I were to ask you to do my laundry, would you know how?”
Tabitha cracked up at your words and she nudged at your knee humorously.
Roman rolled his eyes, muttering something about how he wouldn’t want to touch your tighty whities anyway, and scuttled off to greet Marcia and Connor. Only then did Logan come in, Kendall in tow. His little meat puppet.
“Alright. Cars are waiting—but first, some announcements. Frank, if you wouldn’t mind?”
Logan’s right-hand man stepped forward to address the group. “As you all know, the good news is that the Pierces are entertaining our offer, but bad news—they’re inquiring about your moral character, hence this weekend.”
“They want to look us in the teeth,” gruffed Logan.
Frank nodded. “Right. They want our 24 billion, but they also want to be able to ensure the integrity of their news outlets into the future.”
“Mmh, to ensure everything goes smoothly, we’ve prepared a few do’s and don’ts for the weekend,” said Gerri, pointedly staring at Roman. “Topics to stay clear of: Ravenhead, ATN, Israel, Brightstar, and the Cruise’s rumor mill. Steer onto: gossip, investments, art, movies, literature… tittle-tattle. Wider cultural interests.”
“Oh, and two drinks maximum,” Frank added. “They’re not big drinkers.”
Tilting his head, Roman drawled, “That’s okay. Nobody here has any glaring substance abuse issues that almost brought down the company, right?” He lolled his head over to Kendall, shooting him a wink.
Logan went through a few more details about Tom and ATN and Rhea, which certainly raised a few apprehensions.
“Thanks for all your help,” said Logan. For a moment, his eyes landed on you. You wondered if he had considered that you’d purposefully sabotage this weekend to stop the deal from going through. Or maybe he knew you were his loyal lapdog, no matter how far he kicked you. Or maybe he simply wanted you there for diversity points. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. “We need this. Bagging Pierce is the key to our proxy defense. And the defense is life itself. See you at Plymouth Rock.”
Once the helicopters landed onto Pierce's land and everyone was filed out into the vast green fields, Logan turned to his group and gestured for them to smile. He’d even gone out of his way to brush a stray piece of lint off of your coat for you whilst passing by.
“I am smiling!” Roman haughtily protested when his father gave him a pointed glare.
“Yeah, not like a pervert,” said Shiv.
You grinned, laughing out, “That’s just how he looks, Shiv.”
“Hardee-har-har,” Roman spat out. Then, he watched as Logan linked arms with both Marcia and Shiv. “Wow, Jesus. Look at Papa Smurf. Should I be doing that with you guys?”
Both you and Tabitha glanced at each other, before walking onwards, flat out ignoring Roman.
The Pierce family was waiting not too far from the helicopters, greeting everyone with apprehensive yet kind smiles.
The woman who spoke had soft eyes and a round face. Not at all intimidating in stature, but you knew better than to judge a book by its cover. “Welcome to Ternhaven! Our city on the hill. I’m Nan Pierce—it’s nice to meet all of you. I think we’re going to have fun getting a look at all of you, won’t we?”
Both families drew nearer as everybody exchanged polite greetings. You shook hands with about half a dozen people, trying your best to keep up with names and faces. Once at the estate, someone had taken off your coat and offered you a glass of water before you’d even taken three steps inside.
It was certainly a beautiful home. It felt more lived-in than Logan’s houses, with its abundance of paintings and framed pictures on the walls. The furniture was warmer and cozier—a stark contrast to Logan’s preference for sharp edges and monochrome colors.
Roman came up to your side and pointed at a Latin phrase inscribed into the archway.
“In veritate triumpho,” he read aloud. “This wine is triumphant? No—your vagina trumpets!”
Passing by, Gerri sharply hushed him just as your shoulders began to shake with mirth.
“I triumph in the truth,” you told him.
“Honesty is the best policy around here,” said a dark-haired man, appearing from seemingly nowhere. You heard Roman mutter Jesus H. Christ, beneath his breath, but you discreetly pinched his side before he could say anything else. You faintly recognized the man as Peter Pierce—a cousin of Nan. He’d been overly enthusiastic with his handshake, watching you with gleaming curiosity, complimenting you on your outfit.
You weren’t blind. You knew attraction when you saw it—and Peter wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it.
“So… where’d you learn Latin?”
“Self taught,” you told him, smiling politely. “I’m not fluent. I just know a few bits and bobs here and there. Tried to learn during my college years.”
Before Peter could respond, Roman motioned gagging. “Barf. I’m gonna go see who Tabs is flirting with. See you nerds later.”
He slipped away, leaving you alone with Peter, much to your chagrin.
The man was nice enough, sure, but he was being very obvious with the way his gaze lingered a tad too long on your chest. And when it wasn’t there, he was ogling your lips. It was a bit unnerving.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, you know,” said Peter, arms crossed.
“And I know next to nothing about you,” you airily responded, trying your best to keep your smile natural, though it proved increasingly difficult with each passing second.
“Well, that can be remedied, no?” he asked.
You internally cursed at his forwardness. “Sure, yeah. Sounds great.”
And off he chattered, prattling on about his time with his company and what he studied during university, occasionally asking for your experiences as well. You only paid him half a mind, keeping the other occupied with observations of everybody else in the room. How Shiv had somehow managed to insult someone already, how Connor was talking about his presidential campaign with someone who so clearly didn’t agree with his views, and how Roman was guffawing at something Naomi and Tabitha were discussing.
“And what about the tabloids on you?”
“I’m sorry?” you asked, snapping your attention back onto Peter.
“The tabloids about you and Roman. A lot of them discuss the two of you as a pair.”
Shrugging one of your shoulders, you shook your head. “Those are just baseless rumors.” You thought back to how you and Roman jerked off to each other through the phone. Not baseless at all, it seemed. “Roman and I are friends.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
Peter smiled. A part of you felt bad for stringing him along in such a way. He seemed like a nice enough guy, if you didn’t count all the uncomfortable ogling. “I just feel like we have a connection, you know? Do you feel it, too?”
“Mmh. Yeah, I’m feeling it.” You chanced a glance to Roman, who was staring straight at you with an impish grin. He saw right through your little facade—he knew you were miserable, and he was enjoying the shit out of it.
“That’s so good to hear. I knew you were different the moment I set eyes on you.”
“Wow. You really do have a way with words. Edgar Allen Poe up in here,” you joked loosely, trying your best not to sound deadpan.
“You like Edgar Allen Poe, too? God, you’re like—fricking perfect for me. Excuse my French.” To your horror, Peter reached out to clasp your shoulder, steering you to a more quiet part of the room. “Tell me more about yourself. Things I don’t already know from the tabloids. What was it like growing up around the Roys?”
They were more of your family than your actual parents. They were the bane of your existence. They were everything to you.
Before you could vocalize any of your thoughts (or, some poor, watered-down rendition of them), Logan shepherded the Waystar side of the group into another room for a short, private talk. You let out a long sigh as soon as you were far away enough from Peter, feeling your muscles loosen up. God, that man really did make you stiff in all the worst ways.
“I think it’s going pretty well,” Roman said once everyone began filing through the door. “I mean, nobody’s fucked Nan or killed her cat by accident, so I think we’re doing pretty good.”
It seemed Logan didn’t quite agree, because he stormed up to his daughter, angrily demanding, “What the fuck did you say to Mark? Making cracks about his PhD?”
“It was a joke! He laughed.”
Frowning, Logan continued on, “He’s a yes, Shiv. He’s solid. Why are you even bothering him?”
The group began to then argue about Maxim, who Connor was supposed to persuade into the yes territory of the acquisition—which he was clearly failing.
“Cut the horseshit, know your roles!” barked your godfather. “Shiv, I want you on Nan.”
“Okay, Dad, we don’t have to be so schematic,” she protested, but her words went largely ignored.
Logan rounded on Roman, standing beside you. “Romulus. When you laugh, please do it at the same volume as everyone else. We didn’t get you from a hyena farm.”
“Thanks, Pop,” said Roman. You frowned, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.
“The good news is that Nan seems to be spending money in her head—but she could still be swayed by her family, so every cousin counts,” Gerri added.
“Everybody, stay in your lanes. Who’s on Peter?” asked Logan.
“I got it, Dad,” said Kendall.
Quirking a brow, Frank said, “Actually, Peter seems to be rather taken by Y/N. I think it’s a good idea for her to keep him entertained. He’s worried the rest of us are barbarians.”
You crossed your arms uncomfortably, but nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, uh, sure.”
“Pimp her out, why don’t you,” scoffed Roman.
“Good. Everyone got their person? Let’s go, people. Stay focused, stay sharp!” barked Logan, and everyone began to pour out of the room at his dismissal.
Roman clapped a hand on your forearm. “Hey, uh, if Prickly Pete there does anything—” He made an unintelligible noise while pulling a sour face. “You know the drill. Stop, drop, and roll.”
“That’s for a fire, Ro.”
“Yeah, but it’ll freak him out enough to leave you alone.”
You spared him a sarcastic smile, shaking your head. “Great advice. Thanks.”
“No, but seriously—just say you have to go to the bathroom or something. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
“Okay, Sauron,” you chuckled, shoving him away. “Go. Go and use your wily charms to seduce Naomi into making a terrible decision.”
It was his turn to offer you a lopsided grin. “That’s what I’m best at. Influencing women into years of regret.” With a click of his tongue and a wink, he was off.
When you turned around, Peter was already waiting for you with an expectant expression. Ugh.
This was going to be a long weekend.
The Pierces were a strange family. Who the fuck recited poetry as grace before dinner? Nonetheless, you clapped with a polite smile once Naomi was done with her little poem. Roman rolled his eyes none too discreetly and you kicked at his leg beneath the table.
On your other side, Peter didn’t hesitate to dive into yet another lengthy conversation once everybody began eating.
“I like to have three novels and a memoir going at once,” said the man with a flirtatious smile. “It’s like natural selection.”
You forced a laugh—one that sounded genuine to everyone but the Roys, who knew you well enough by now to know that you weren’t amused at all.
“Hm. I think it’s rather redundant to pit literature against each other in such a competitive fashion. Art is art is art, no?” you responded, quirking a brow as you forked a portion of salad onto your plate.
You’d hoped that your comment would deter Peter from talking more, but your challenge seemed to only invigorate him.
“A bit of healthy competition in a given field never hurt anyone. Pushes people to create better things,” he said, leaning closer to you.
“Mm, well, respectfully, I disagree. I think art—literature, especially—can blossom organically, just for the sake of it. The idea that creativity flourishes under competition is, frankly, just capitalist propaganda,” you said.
To your dismay, Peter tilted his head and quipped, “Isn’t that a bit ironic, coming from you? Goddaughter of one of the richest men in the world?”
Your eye twitched. Beneath the table, Roman nudged your foot.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. My point still stands, no?”
“I suppose we can just agree to disagree. I still enjoy reading several pieces at once… maximum efficiency, right?”
Another fake laugh.
To your surprise, Roman swooped into the conversation, “Yeah, I hear you, brother!” he chirped, trying his best to sound like an intellectual normie—he wasn’t doing a very good job, so far.
Peter spared him a glance, which made him lean even closer to you. “Are you a big reader?”
“Me? Oh. Yeah, big time.” No, he wasn’t. Roman couldn’t even remember the last time he picked up a book and read past the first page.
“Can you recommend anything Oprah isn’t pushing? Any new fiction?”
For a moment, Roman’s panicked eyes met your goading ones. He began to laugh, but cleared his throat when he realized that Peter was genuinely asking.
“Oh, right, yeah, sure I can… I, uh, rather enjoyed The Electric Circus.”
“The Electric Circus?” echoed Peter in a rather pretentious manner. “Who’s the author?”
“Oh, uh, shit! Who was it… it was uh, Timothy Lipton. Yup. That’s him.” Roman was a terrible liar. You were getting second-hand embarrassment just listening to him.
Catching wind of her brother fumbling, Shiv asked, “Yeah? What’s it about, Rome?”
“Uh, it is… about a young man making his way through the world. Except in two different time periods, so it kinda switches back and forth between—uh, yup! And—and the circus part is like, you know, a metaphor.”
Shiv narrowed her eyes. “For what?”
“Ugh. For the anxiety of modern life, Siobhan.” Roman only ever called his sister that when he tried to provoke her, or when he was exasperated with her antics. “Ask Y/N. She read the book. Ask her.”
Incredulous, you swung your gaze from your food to him, brows pulling together.
“You’ve read The Electric Circus?” asked Peter. His phone was in his palms. “I’m not seeing it on Google… Are you sure that’s what it was called?”
You began to fumble with your words, internally cursing Roman for throwing you under the bus, as well. God, he was going to owe you a million favors from now on.
“See, uhm, it was a private little thing, uh—it hasn’t been published yet, exactly. Roman and I were just, you know, we were given the pages because we, uh, we were thinking of funding the novel ourselves! So, yeah… I don’t know why Roman would go and recommend that to you when it isn’t even available to the public yet.” You spared Peter a sweet smile whilst simultaneously stomping on Roman’s toes beneath the table. He retaliated by pinching your thigh.
“Oh. I see. Maybe when it comes out we can talk about it over a cup of coffee, then.”
Roman snorted. You sent him a half-hearted glare.
“Sure. That’d be great,” you told him before the man-child on your other side could come up with a rude retort.
Thankfully, Peter was quick to move on to another topic. Something about how mediocre the movies have been getting as of late. What an asshole.
The conversation was cut off not too soon later by the white nationalist elephant in the room, as Rhea had so eloquently put it—ATN. Logan had vehemently denied sharing their fascistic beliefs, though the Pierces were clearly still skeptical of your godfather. Hell, even you were.
There was more tense silence when Logan was questioned on whether or not Tom would stay on as head of ATN. The matter was never resolved, as he excused himself with a lame excuse of his sick dog having arthritis, pulling Shiv out of the room with him.
You and Roman exchanged confused looks.
By the time they came back, Tabitha was telling one of the Pierces about her willingness to help out her friend. “I’m thinking, like, if they can’t have a baby in six months, I’m just going to offer them my womb. Why not, you know? I’m young, I’m hardy.”
“Wow, Tabs, that’s really nice of you,” you told her genuinely, sipping on some water.
“Good for you,” agreed Marnie Pierce. “I had a friend who did that, it was so great—”
And then there Peter went, butting his fat head into the conversation where it was clearly not needed. “Uh, but if it isn’t too rude of me to ask, what about you two?” He gestured to Roman and Tabitha.
The blonde woman chuckled. “Oh, you mean us planning to have a baby? No, we’re not planning for a baby, because that would require us having sex!”
“Woah!” exclaimed Roman. “Hey, now.”
Peter grimaced. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Yes, you did,” said Marnie, and Peter only shrugged sheepishly.
“No, no, no, it’s totally fine, it’s just not our thing,” Tabitha replied. “We’re kinda like eunuch besties. It works for us.”
Scratching the back of his head, Roman cleared his throat. “She’s joking. Obviously. She’s kidding. We’re actually quite relentless in that regard. Just… fuck city out here.”
You almost choked on the water you’d been sipping, the memories of a certain call you had with Roman resurfacing to the forefront of your mind.
“You okay, Y/N?” Peter asked, lightly patting your back.
“Fine. Just down the wrong pipe,” you winced. “And, you know, the idea of Roman and Tabs going to pound town doesn’t exactly whet my appetite.”
“Oh, don’t be jealous,” said Roman. “It’s unbecoming.”
Before you could snip back, the table fell quiet when Nan Pierce asked who would be taking on the company after Logan. Your godfather purposefully skirted around the topic, evading a solid name entirely.
Then, Shiv made the terrible mistake of announcing herself as the next CEO.
“Wait, uh, what’s happening?” Peter queried.
“Mmh. I think my life just ended,” Roman responded, looking every bit as shocked as you.
More flubbering from both Logan and Shiv. They were fucking themselves over, you could just feel it.
“You know what, maybe this dinner was a little bit premature. Seems like you guys are still working some things out,” said Peter.
“No, uh, this is just some family hijinks,” Kendall tried to protest.
Marcia leaned in closer to Logan to ask, “Is this true?”
That seemed to be the last straw for him, because he yelled out, “Will you stop?”
More tense silence. Your foot rested over Roman’s, which was bouncing up and down rapidly beneath your heel. His hand rested on your knee, gripping a tad too tight.
“Well. I was just thinking that it’s such a beautiful, clear night out. Mark—would you like to guide us on a little after-dinner stargaze?” Nan asked.
And with that, came the end of the dinner.
“Did you guys know?” Tabitha asked both you and Roman as the three of you pushed away from the table to head outside.
“No. No, I didn’t,” said Roman, still in shock.
You had a feeling, sure—there was no way it’d be Connor. Not Kendall, because of his recent endeavors with trying to take over the company, along with his substance abuse. It was between Roman and Shiv, and it didn’t take a genius to see that Logan didn’t think his youngest son was all that competent. That left only Shiv, after all.
“I didn’t know,” you simply said.
The three of you strode out, leaving only Shiv and Logan left in the dining room.
“Those stars were really nice,” Tabitha said, lounging on the bed as Roman aggressively rummaged through the luggage in search of his toothbrush.
He was growing increasingly agitated about the idea of Shiv taking over the company, channeling his frustrations out on the poor suitcase for not presenting him his toothbrush on a golden pedestal. With a groan and a hand carding through his hair, Roman kicked at its side, sending the bag skidding against the wall.
“Ro,” Tabitha called. “I have a meeting on Monday, and I’d really love to deal with your neuroses and talk about it and everything but, uh, if you’re gonna lose your mind in here, I might just see if Naomi would let me crash in her bed.”
The man pulled on his face. He hummed once, then twice, as if he was deliberating over something.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s fuck.”
A disbelieving smile danced across her face. She thought he was full of shit. “Yeah, totally. We do the sex so well, so that’s a brilliant idea.”
Clenching his jaw, Roman clambered onto the bed. “Alright. Come on. Come here, you hot fucking piece of shit.”
He tried kissing her, but his nose knocked into hers the wrong way, his hand gripped at her shoulder at an awkward angle, and his lips fell onto only the upper corner of her mouth, barely even counting as a kiss.
“Woah, easy there, wolfman!” She burst into a fit of laughter, and Roman pulled away with a string of insecure apologies, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, which throbbed from the impact.
“That was awesome,” he bit out, lying face-down on the bed next to her. “I’m so fucking good at this. Sorry.”
“Yeah, you were, like, squeezing my shoulder really fucking hard—”
“Wasn’t that sexy? How I just took you? Bet you orgasmed like five times in a row.” Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Do you want to, though? Like actually?”
She smiled. “Mmkay. Do I want to…? Make love?”
He frowned. “Nope. Wow. I just—” A groan and a sigh.
Features softening, Tabitha reached out to rub at Roman’s back. “Hey. I’m not… uninterested in solving you.”
Roman turned to face her. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think we can make it, like… I don’t know… wrong?”
Tabitha was supposed to be dead. Which—and Roman thought this was quite obvious—meant that she wasn’t supposed to be wet. Now, there were a million and one ways for them to have sex and have it be wrong (like how it felt with you, maybe), but he’d suggested for her to play dead because… well, because he didn’t want it to feel like he was having sex with her.
The very thought of fucking Tabitha didn’t sit quite right with him. He liked her a lot, and she was fucking hot as shit, but Roman just… couldn’t. He just couldn’t! Maybe she was right. Maybe they were better off as eunuch besties.
And so it came as no shock to both parties when the dead woman sex didn’t end up working out. Tabitha murmured that the morgue was closing for the night—and that she’d go wank off in the bathroom with her electric toothbrush as a makeshift vibrator. Roman apologized to her again, and curled up in the middle of the bed.
What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have sex with his girlfriend, like any other fucking person would?
After five minutes of wallowing in his own shame, Roman dragged himself off the bed and did what he knew how to do best: he ran straight to you.
When there was a knock at your door, you were ninety percent sure it was Roman. The other, more terrified, ten percent anxiously wondered if it was Sleazy Pete coming to talk your ear off some more about the latest developments in artificial intelligence.
To your relief, it was Roman, clad in a loose white shirt and soft, dark pants.
“Hey, Romeo,” you greeted, pulling him in and glancing out the hallway, making sure nobody was around to see. “Man, am I glad to see you. I was really scared you were somebody else.”
He made a high-pitched, humorous noise, crossing his arms as you softly shut the door closed. “Peter? Oh, no. He’s too high and mighty to come chasing after you so early. He’s the kind to date the same person for ten years, accidentally cum inside one time and knock them up, which then keeps them chained to his side for the rest of his life. You’re good for now.”
“For now?” You were ready to make another quippy retort, when you noticed the way Roman scuffed his bare feet into the carpet, hand scratching at the back of his head. Something was bugging him. “What’s going on? What happened?”
“Huh? Nothing happened. Fuck off.”
Biting at the inside of your cheek, you reached out to him, holding both his hands within yours. “Rome.”
He parroted your name in an equally emphatic manner.
You sat down on the bed, steering him to sit beside you. “Is this about Shiv?”
Oh. Right. He’d been so caught up with his guilt and shame over Tabitha that he’d momentarily forgotten about that other part of his life that was just majorly fucked over.
Roman shrugged. “She fucked up bad, huh?”
You laid down, which prompted him to follow you, his head leaning on your shoulder. The two of you stared up at the ceiling together.
“We all make mistakes. I think your dad probably led her on with a carrot painted with faux gold. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Your long-time friend made a noise of agreement.
Comfortable silence stretched thinly between the two of you. Roman faintly noticed that your hair was damp—you’d probably taken a shower after the walk. After inhaling sharply, he caught a whiff of your body spray: sweeter than fucking cotton candy and it almost made him want to puke. Key word being almost—Roman rather liked the smell. Especially on you.
“You smell good.”
“Mmh. Thanks.”
You arched your back, bones popping with your movement as you mumbled under your breath sleepily. Something within Roman stirred.
“I tried to have sex with Tabitha.”
Suddenly, you weren’t all that sleepy anymore. “Oh? How’d it go?”
“I…” Roman winced. Saying it out loud made it sound so much worse, for some reason. “I pretended she was dead.”
“What?” There was a mildly shocked laugh to your tone.
“Consensually!” he vehemently tacked on. “But, you know, she was fuckin’ dripping for me, so… took the experience away, I guess. I don’t know. I like her a lot. I just don’t… I don’t…”
“You don’t want to have sex with her?”
Another shrug. Roman blew out a drawn-out exhale. “Yeah. I dunno.”
“That’s okay, Rome. You don’t need to have sex if you don’t want to, and you shouldn’t feel bad about not wanting it. That’s literally the definition of consent.”
A part of Roman seemed to melt with your words. Your affirmation that there wasn’t something wrong with him (or, at least that one trait of his, he knew there were several other parts of him that you’d consider highly immoral) relieved him more than he’d care to admit.
“Well… I do want it. I just don’t want it with her, maybe?” His voice went all soft yet high-pitched at the end of the question.
Suddenly, you turned your head to him, your nose only a hair’s breadth away from his.
“Well, Ro,” you began, husky and low, “who would you want it with?”
He didn’t need to say it. You knew already.
“Who do you want to touch you?” you murmured, hand reaching out to skim over his chest, his stomach, grazing over the very top of his pants and toying with the band of his boxers. “Who do you want to make you feel good, Romeo?”
A low whine caught within his throat when you leaned forward to kiss up the column of his throat, nipping at the skin lightly. All of his sanity seemed to fly straight out the window when your hand dipped within his boxer, tugging out his semi-hard cock, languidly stroking along the length. He moaned, chest rumbling with the sound.
Your eyelids hung low as you nosed along his jaw, which strained with how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Mmh, you’re a dirty little pervert, aren’t you? Sneaking away from your girlfriend to rut your pretty cock against me. You’re a mess and I’ve barely even touched you, Rome.”
It’d been so long. So fucking long since someone touched him this way. Since he’d let someone touch him like this. Since he wanted someone to touch him like this. It was all you. Just you, and only you.
And so, it was no wonder that he was nearing his orgasm already, twitching within your grasp as he whined louder. He murmured unintelligibly, pleading for something he didn’t yet know.
“Can you be a good boy and cum for me?” you susurrated, planting kisses over his jaw, his cheek, the bridge of his nose. You didn’t dare kiss him on the lips—you weren’t quite sure if that would be too far for your peculiar relationship.
When he came, a loud groan erupted from his throat, which was quickly muffled when you clapped a palm over his mouth, his eyes flew open to meet yours, pupils fully blown, almost eclipsing the molten brown of his irises. You stroked him through his orgasm, murmuring a mixture of degradations and praises all the way.
You pulled back when he began to jerk his hips away with overstimulation, panting against your palm. The sticky spend on your hand glistened beneath the lamp’s warm-hued light, and you brought it up to your face to kitten-lick his cum off his fingers, humming in satisfaction. The sight nearly made Roman pass out. He swallowed hard, propping himself up on the bed on an elbow.
Voice hoarse, he croaked out, “Thanks. Do you, uh… do you need…”
Yes. You wanted it so badly—you wanted him.
But you knew Roman wasn’t really in the right mindspace to reciprocate anything at the moment. And the guilt that weighed heavy in your stomach would’ve only been worsened if you’d pressured him into anything that he might’ve been uncomfortable with.
Baby steps. The two of you had been taking baby steps in your relationship ever since you were, well… babies.
“I’m fine, Rome,” you told him, ignoring the drenched throbbing between your thighs and crawling up next to him to lay down. “You can repay me in the future.”
The haze from his orgasm was beginning to clear away. Roman’s nose buried into your sweet-smelling hair. “With, like, a fuckin’ Baskin Robbins coupon or my tongue up your vagina?”
A soft laugh and a shake of your head. “Both sound wonderful,” you told him, curling up into his warmth. A wave of sleepiness overtook you. It’d been a really long day. “Night, Rome.”
“Night, fuck-face.”
You might’ve simply hallucinated it in your sleep-addled mind, but you could feel a faint brush of lips on your forehead, along with a whisper of thanks. You fell asleep with a smile on your face that night. Roman had taken a picture (with the flash on, which made for quite unflattering lighting) and sent it to you the next morning, giggling his amusing hyena-giggle while the two of you were in the bathroom—with you brushing your teeth and him perched up on the toilet seat lid. It was a tender moment of picturesque domesticism—a life that didn’t quite seem right for the two of you, unless it was with each other.
The rest of the weekend at the Pierce’s estate was uneventful. Everybody had gone home thinking the deal wasn’t going to go through—Shiv had told you her dad fucked everything by refusing to name her as the next CEO.
But, to everyone’s surprise except Logan’s, Nan Pierce ended up calling only a few hours later that she’d sell. You weren’t quite happy with the turn of events, but you supposed that’s just how it was with Logan.
He always won.
Argestes, a business conference for important folk all over the world, was just under a month later. It was a rather prestigious event, the itinerary always decked with the most ludicrously rich and fanciful activities, with only limited invites handed out.
This was to be your sixth annual year attending.
You arrived with Roman practically draped over you, much to the press’ delight. After he made a snide comment about how manipulative you could be when it came to business, you bid him adieu, off to fraternize and mingle with potential allies you might need in your pocket. You were just grateful not to bump into Peter Pierce—the last thing you wanted to do was have him glued to your side for the rest of the weekend.
The next day, when you’d just barely stepped out of your room, you got a frantic text from Roman. It was a link to a journal article about the cruise incidents, followed by a series of question marks and an indiscernible mash of emojis. The last text gave you the room he and his family were in.
You rushed off to meet them there, checking your constantly buzzing phone along the way to see texts fly from dozens of people: Shiv, Gerri, your colleagues, your friends, your coworkers alike. This wasn’t a good look for the company, that was for sure.
When you finally got there, Roman quirked a brow at you. “Have you read this? Tell me this isn’t the greyest shit you’ve ever read.”
“Give me a second, I’ve barely even woken up, much less had time to read the article.” You settled in beside him, opening up the link to begin reading. From across the room, Logan was skimming through a physical copy, glasses on the very tip of his nose as he mumbled under his breath. Shiv was on the other end, waiting for everyone to finish reading.
Finally, you reached the end of the article, slumping back with furrowed brows. “This is, uhm, serious stuff but it’s also really unclear what’s actually being thrown at the wall here.”
“Maybe this, maybe that bullshit,” Roman uttered.
“Rome, careful,” said Kendall.
“Is this one of those things I need a woman to explain to me why it’s bad?” His head knocked into yours. “You tell me—is it bad?”
Offering him a shrug, you huffed out a sigh and scrolled all the way back up to read it again. “It’s bad, it’s fucking awful someone had to go through this—but in all honesty, I expected far worse for a journal article to blow up this much.”
Growing frustrated, Logan ripped his glasses off. “What’s the protein?”
A man you only faintly recalled as Hugo Baker, part of the Parks and Cruises sector, replied, “They found a woman, Keerson. She was working the cruises back in the mid nineties, and name-checked Lester McClintock.”
Gerri nodded. “She says Uncle Mo asked for sex with her and the other dancers to get their contracts renewed.”
“So they fucked?” Logan asked.
“It says sexual exploitation,” clarified Shiv.
“Said subject of the article is dead,” you chimed in. “So the blame on Mo will effectively be shifted onto Waystar. Negligence of ethical conduct, cruise malpractice, so on and so forth.”
A moment of silence filled the room.
“Well, what can we do about it?” Roman queried.
Gerri said, “There’s not a lot of specifics. It’s not detailed. Cold hard facts: it’s one woman in the nineties, not twenty women four years ago.”
This made Kendall’s face sour, as he pulled the bill of his cap down lower over his face. “Great. I’m glad we’re so good at doing victim math.”
“Yeah, well, Gerri’s just saying it doesn’t necessarily punch through,” Shiv defended.
The older brother gestured to his phone. “Sure, but… this is not okay.”
“We know it’s not okay, that’s why we’re preparing a corporate response,” the redhead bit back.
The conversation moved on to PR, which Gerri claimed to be Preston. This was met with Shiv’s vehement disapproval—they were three disgusting, old white dudes who, in her words, would just claim the women to be money-grabbing sluts.
“Call me sociopathic but isn’t this a tiny bit quaint in comparison to the past few years?” asked Roman.
You bit down on the inside of your cheek in thought. “I think they’re hyperfixating on this right now because they see it as a gap in the chainmail. Mo is dead. He’s not around to bear the weight of blame on his shoulders.”
“We’re being punished for the sins of others,” claimed Logan. “No one real gives a fuck.”
You narrowed your eyes at the hot take.
For once, you seemed to agree with Kendall when he shook his head. “No, no, we can’t be seen to minimize. I think we need to loudly and quickly say that this is not okay.”
“The question is, what would make it go away the fastest? Do we say it’s something and fix it, or say that it’s nothing and fuck off?” Gerri asked.
“Something,” pushed Kendall. “There has to be consequences.”
To your frustration, Shiv shook her head. “Nope. Condemn and move on. It’s just good advice.”
“Not to be the only frilly-pink feminist in the room, but this isn’t something to sweep under the rug. It may not seem that serious at first glance because of the vagueness but a few dozen women’s lives were ruined, and that’s just barely what we know because of the NDAs. If we ignore it now, it’ll come back to bite the company in the ass later down the line. The least we can do is compensate them, no?” you said, crossing your arms.
Sinking into a wooden chair that creaked beneath his weight, Logan threw his hands up. “This is bullshit. It’s all about me! It’s not real, it’s not honest. They don’t give a flying fuck for these poor bitches. They hate me! And I won’t be giving them the satisfaction of giving in. So no—condemn and move on.”
You wanted to bury your face in your hands and scream. But you didn’t. You stood still and expressionless.
They started discussing the panel for later that day. The original plan was for it to be Kendall and Roman up there, but having a woman up there would be much more… fitting given the well-timed article’s release. Shiv haughtily refused, but softened upon her dad asking her if she would.
She’d think about it.
And with that, the group began to file out.
The hours trickled on by and before you knew it, there was only ten minutes until Roman and Kendall were supposed to go up for the panel. You were helping Rome rehearse through what he was supposed to say, even though you didn’t agree with the direction they were taking with simply condemning—it was better than not addressing it at all.
It was all going smoothly until Shiv burst through the doors, declaring that she wanted to be up there for the panel, much to both Kendall and Roman’s dismay.
“Come on, man. It’s panicky as fuck,” said the eldest of the three. “It looks… kind of fucking cheesy, to be honest. Like we’re throwing our token woman at it? The woman who’s not even in our company?”
“Well, it can’t be two men up there right now. It just—it can’t. Right?” Shiv rounded her gaze to you, and you shrugged half-heartedly.
“I don’t know, Shiv.”
Standing up, Hugo suggested, “Well, the audience is just expecting Roys, so—maybe we stick at two and someone relaxes.”
Logan’s gaze fell on his youngest son. “Romulus.”
“What? You want to pull me? That—that looks like a humiliation,” your friend heatedly defended.
“We could just say you got sick,” Hugo said.
Both you and Roman made eye contact and you nodded at him to defend himself.
“No. No, you can’t just fuckin’ bump me ten minutes before the panel. That’s bullshit! Fuck that. Respectfully, dad, why is Shiv even here?” he hissed.
“I was invited,” Shiv replied in a serrated tone.
Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, no, I need to be out there. We need to hang together. You know, like, family.”
Rolling her eyes, Shiv drew herself to her full height. “Oh, so you wanna get Connor on the line, get him to come down here, too? Let him dog-pile on so no one’s nose gets put out of joint?”
“I’ll put your nose out of joint!”
“Oh, yeah, you should say that on the panel—!” Shiv pursed her lips. “If you wanna know what I really think—I think you should drop both of them and I’ll do it solo.”
This time, you were quick to say, “Shiv, I love you, but you’re not part of the company yet. To shove you up there alone would look like fucking… empty wokeness. Like we’re smothering the problem with estrogen and calling it a day.”
Roman nodded. “Pretty desperate, Shiv—exploiting the situation for personal gain, hm?”
The three siblings bickered some more until it grew quite cumbersome and repetitive.
Two minutes until the panel.
Logan held up three fingers, and that was the end of that.
The panel was… certainly a panel.
It was a lot of dancing around the subject between Kendall and Shiv. You were pretty sure Roman had only said a grand total of two short sentences.
“We’ll do whatever it takes, you know? We’ll do whatever anyone wants,” he had said.
From where you were watching on a screen backstage, you face-palmed with a sigh.
By the end, Shiv had made the fatal mistake of implying that Logan should step down from his position, going so far as to call him an old dinosaur.
It was a shitshow, painted over with glitter and rainbows. In all honesty, it was an embarrassment to even associate yourself with the company at this point. There went all your business schmoozing and fraternizing for the past two days—right down the drain.
“Nice. Bring your daughter to the slaughter. Did you tell the old dinosaur what you were going to do?” Roman asked his twin once the three siblings returned to the room you were in.
“Hey, I’m sorry, ‘We will do whatever anyone wants?’ What the hell was that?” Kendall asked.
Shrugging, Roman clapped both his hands on your shoulders from behind, squeezing your tensed muscles. “Fuck it, right? It’s just words. There’s no press, anyway. Who gives a shit?”
It was then that Logan walked in, Marcia and Gerri in tow. Roman’s hands slipped away from you to go pour himself a drink and stand by his father.
“It was too much, Siobhan,” said their stepmother. “Dinosaurs?”
Ducking his head, Kendall nodded. “It was over the line. Shiv was over the line.”
Brows cinching, Shiv protested, “Oh, I think it was pretty clear that I was talking about—”
Roman interrupted after taking a long sip of champagne. “No, it was clear, yeah. You tortured the old dinosaur. Barbecued him alive—!”
In a blink of an eye, Logan swung around and back-handed his son straight across the jaw, bellowing out, “Don’t fuck with me!”
The hit rang loud and true across the room. Flesh on flesh, skin on skin, father to son, boot to dog.
Roman fell back with a muffled noise, and you were immediately shooting out of your seat to curl a protective arm around him, placing yourself between him and his aggrieved father. Commotion sprung out—Kendall vehemently yelling at Logan not to touch his brother as if he were a valiant hero, Gerri trying her best to quell the situation with reassuring words.
But all the noise was drowned out in your ears. It was just you and Roman.
It was like you were children all over again, watching with watery eyes as young Roman tried his best to pick himself up after Logan’s frequent beatings. You hadn’t even noticed that your eyes had welled up with a warbling film of stinging tears, heart slamming against your ribcage with staggering, uneven jolts.
He hunched over, working his jaw and spitting into his palm a second later.
A tooth fell past his lips, flecked with blood and spit. You could feel your lips twitch downwards as you tried your hardest not to cry.
Kendall flanked to his left, his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and Shiv stood in front of him.
“Rome—you alright?” they both asked. “You okay?”
He worked his jaw again, then shrugged off Kendall’s hand. He was in no mood to be coddled by anyone but you.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fucking fine! Just fucking—leave me alone. I’m fine.” As you began to lead him away, he called over his shoulder. “It’s just a tooth. I’ll get another one.”
Once it was just the two of you in the hallway, Roman dropped the act. It hurt like hell, and he felt safe enough around you not to have to put up a front.
You tugged him into your room with a mildly haunted expression, fingers gripping far too tightly into Roman’s arm. He walked into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out. The water ran a dark shade of pink.
As he gingerly began brushing his teeth with a spare toothbrush you handed him, you studied his reflection. He stared back, hating how worried you looked for him.
“You want me to call a medic?” you asked, voice small. “There’s a few on site.”
Roman squinted at nothing in particular, humming. His tongue ran along the part of his gums that throbbed the most. It tasted like copper. A familiar taste. Nostalgic, even.
“No.”
“Do you need to be alone?”
“Fuck, no.”
You rolled a tissue into a tightly-packed bundle, telling him to bite down on it to stop the bleeding. He did as you told, but not without complaining about it tasting like ass. It actually tasted like nothing, but Roman wanted to make you smile. He hated seeing you so worked up.
With that, the two of you made your way out of the bathroom. You made him sit down on your bed and wrapped your arms around him, clinging onto him like a koala to a tree trunk. The both of you slowly kicked off layers of your clothes, trying your best not to break hold of each other in the process. Shoes first, then jackets, then pants, then button-ups.
You were left in a dark short sleeve and your underwear, and he’d tossed off all his clothes except his boxers.
“The Argie awards are in an hour,” said Roman. His lips brushed against your collarbone as he rested his forehead onto the slope of your shoulder.
“I wouldn’t have stripped down to nearly nothing if I was planning on going.”
“You’re gonna miss dinner. You’ll starve to death—and you won’t be allowed to blame me for it.”
“I have a banana somewhere in here. Plus—room service is only a call away.”
“Mmh. Mmkay.”
The tooth was still curled inside his clenched fist.
“Wait,” you murmured against him, crawling off his lap to grapple for your wallet that you’d left on the nightstand. Roman murmured unhappily at the loss of warm contact, rubbing his palms up and down your legs. “I don’t really carry cash around these days but… I always keep a few spare coins in here.”
He watched as you fished through the slits, brandishing first a dime, then a nickel. Another dime.
Then you pulled out a quarter, grinning widely.
“I’m supposed to slip this under your pillow while you’re sleeping, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me get up for the rest of the night,” you whispered, crawling back to him and throwing a leg over his waist. He curled his own legs around you as well, leaning his weight into you. His head throbbed, his jaw throbbed harder, his heart throbbed the most.
The cool metal of the quarter fell into his free hand. Then, he unfurled his fist. You stared down at the bloody tooth with unsure eyes.
“You have pretty teeth,” you told him after snapping out of your initial frozen state, pressing your nose into his uninjured cheek. “Even when we were kids, you had the prettiest pearly whites.”
Roman smiled, even though it ached to. “I remember you chased me around for my tooth once. Like a fucking freak.”
“Hm. You loved it, Romey.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” he said, trying his best to be dismissive. Then, he craned his arm to place the tooth on the nightstand.
You yawned, and he followed closely after you.
“It’s only eight at night. We’re falling asleep at fuckin’... fucking granny hour,” he grumbled.
A giggle, cut off by another yawn. “I don’t blame us. It’s been a long day. Sweet dreams, Romeo.”
“Night, fuck-face.”
“You know I love you, right?” you whispered. A light kiss to his throat as he swallowed.
“Obviously. You’re infatuated with me. Obsessed, even.”
If one was infatuated-slash-obsessed with the other, it’d most certainly be Roman.
You hummed and grinned into him. You didn’t deny his words, merely huffing with amusement. “I’m going to take your tooth and sell it on EBay for a hundred bucks.”
I’m fucking in love you, he wanted to scream.
“Fuck off,” he said. “It’s worth a million bucks at least. Shut up—stop fucking smiling, you freak. Go to sleep.”
You settled against him some more, and drifted off a few minutes later, listening to his heart beat from his throat.
You weren’t entirely sure what had transpired during the last few hours of Argestes, but there was one thing made clear: Nan Pierce had called off the acquisition entirely. You had no idea what to think of the entire situation anymore. You were just… tired of it all.
Not long after, a team had called you in to record a video message for Logan’s big fiftieth anniversary at Waystar. You were given very little time to figure out what to say, and so your message was short and sweet:
“Hey, Uncle Logan. I think we all owe you a bit of gratitude for giving half a century of your life to the large, ever-expanding field we call media. You’ve always been a constant figure in my life—heh, more constant than my own parents. I couldn’t imagine where I’d be without you. Congratulations, and I look forward to the next fifty years working by your side.”
It wasn’t over the top, and only slightly sugar-coated with falsities.
Once you stepped out of the recording booth, Roman shot you a grin. “Cocksucker,” he teased. “There you go—something you and Rhea can bond over.”
You prodded his chest with stiff fingers. “Shut up,” you fondly told him.
“How’d you even get all that in one fucking take? They had me say ‘I love you, Dad’, like, ten times in a row.”
Before you could retort back, the two of you bumped into Shiv, who was typing away furiously at her phone.
“What do you guys reckon—you think Dad is boning Rhea?” she asked.
With a snort, Roman strode away to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Can’t wrap my head around that. Too steamy. Too hot.”
“You are a walking Freudian complex, you know that, Ro?” you asked him, bumping his hips with yours so he’d move over as you fixed your own drink. “I don’t wanna think about it, honestly. Who my godfather fucks is really none of my business.”
“You’re just jealous. You want daddykins all to yourself!” said Roman in a sing-song voice, which made you purposefully step onto his toes. “OW!”
The hot coffee jostled over the rim of his cup and some of it sloshed onto his chest. He sent you a glare and you kissed his cheek with a sweet smile before moving off to sit next to Connor.
“Yeah, yeah, but we should, like, talk about what this means. We’re… we’re all sensing the shift, right?” asked Shiv.
“Gerri says she’s the new thing,” said Roman as he took a seat beside you, obnoxiously leaning back to drape both his legs over your thighs.
Connor lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, it just so happens that Gerri was the new thing a while back.”
“Mmh—Logan made it clear that she was more or less there as a placeholder,” you said, sipping on your cup, watching the siblings over the rim. “Come on—there’s no way Logan is handing the company over to a woman, much less a woman older than fifty. It’s a shame, because Gerri really could’ve been a great CEO had she been given an actual chance.”
It didn’t go past your notice to see Shiv’s face contort with dismay at your words. Not too long ago, she’d been under the impression that Logan was handing the company over to a woman—her.
“I just think we need to be careful,” she said.
“Awh, what’s wrong? You all wedgied up because Rhea stood on your back and worked your arms like an elliptical?” asked Roman, which made both you and Connor snort with amusement.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, we should probably have a plan. You know, in case Dad does something rash.”
It was then that Connor was called away to record his message, and Kendall sauntered in just a minute later. His jacket and pants were noticeably rumpled and a pair of sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Only assholes like Kendall would wear sunglasses indoors.
“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted everyone.
“You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday—you want us to think you got laid. Nice try.” Both you and Roman giggled like schoolgirls, which only had the older man rolling his eyes.
“Well, have fun discussing killing Rhea—” you began.
“There wasn’t anything about killing—” protested Shiv.
“I’m gonna head out. Gotta get some work done before the flight to Dundee. Which, is so fucking over the top, by the way. Even my parents are going for this. They weren’t there for any of my birthdays in the past twenty years, but sure, let’s go to Uncle Logan’s celebration for his fiftieth year working at Waystar.” You nudged Roman’s legs off of yours so you could stand up.
Rome’s eyes widened. “Your parents are coming? Damn. Rhea really went all out, didn’t she?”
You frowned. “Feels more like a personal affront to me than anything. Not looking forward to seeing them, but whatever. See you guys later.”
They all murmured their farewells and you patted Roman’s knee softly before heading out.
Dundee was cold. So cold that you had to wear two layers of thermal socks, and your toes were still cold. Roman made fun of you the entire way into the hotel room, joking about icicles forming beneath your chin.
Once you were finally inside, you cranked your heater up as high as it could go, shedding all your layers off with a grateful moan. It’d been a long flight, and you were exhausted.
Roman laid down on your bed, lazily turning his head to follow your movements as you flitted to and fro around your room, unpacking your essentials.
“There’s better ways to warm up than hanging your wrinkled button-ups,” he quipped. One of his brows quirked upwards in an almost seductive manner.
You laughed at that, fishing out articles of clothing from your luggage. “You’re all bark and no bite, Roman. Besides—you literally brought Tabitha to this event. Where even is she, anyway?”
With a shrug, he remarked absentmindedly, “Oh, she’s off exploring all the joys of Scotland.”
“So… grass and sheep?”
He laughed his hyena-laugh. “Yeah, grass and sheep.” Then, he propped himself up on an elbow to face you properly. “Did you bring a date?”
“Ugh. Didn’t want to bring one. Not with my parents coming. It’ll be a nightmare.”
Something in Roman’s eyes softened. “I would’ve been your date if, uh, if I hadn’t already asked Tabs. To be fair, I asked her before I knew about your parents. I can kick her back to America right now if you ask.”
You paused in your ministrations. “Stop it. I like Tabs. She’s nice. And I wouldn’t have wanted you to be my date out of pity, anyway.”
Roman lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug, lips pursed. “It wouldn’t be pity if I wanted to.”
A beat of silence.
You blew out a sigh. “I’m really here for the image. I’ll say hi to my parents, and then avoid them for the rest of the night.”
“I can help you with avoiding them.”
“Hm?”
“Gerri wants me to secure funding for Waystar to go private. As a… back up plan, in case everything combusts into fuckin’ flames. She wants me to target Eduard. Seduce him, or whatever. You can come with—butter him up with all your oozy corporate rank and that—that pretty face on your face. He wouldn’t be able to resist if we double-combo him.” Roman shot you a lopsided smile that only lifted one corner of his lips. You pushed away the urge to coo at the fact that he called your face pretty. “Or… you can flit around with all of Dad’s cocksuckers and awkwardly bump into your parents two hundred times before the waterworks break out and you make an embarrassment of yourself in the middle of the celebration.”
Done with putting away your clothes, you made your way to the bed and sat down beside him, your shoulder pressed up flush over his.
“You’re a lifesaver, Rome. Yeah, of course I’ll come.”
“Yeah, yeah. You can repay me with a blowjob.”
You laughed, but a small part of you wondered if he was serious.
“Any other ways I can repay you? None that could, uhm, potentially warrant a lawsuit?”
Roman scratched at his chin in thought. “Yeah, actually—what if we got, like, married?” His voice went all soft and high-pitched. Lilting. Tentative.
Your eyes widened at first, then narrowed thinly. “What?” you asked, partially incredulous. He was joking, right?
Right?
“Not like—” He gestured aimlessly. “Not like that. Not actual marriage. Like something equivalent to that—like me chaining you down in the basement, or something. Like me kidnapping you and keeping you hostage.”
“Romeo, what the hell are you talking about?” You sat forward, your face all the closer to his. “In what world is that equivalent to marriage?”
Nervous anxiety clawed within his stomach. “Jesus Christ, I’m not talking about marriage. Just something on that fucking level of us being tied together. I don’t know, you chop off my dick, I chop off your tongue, whatever the fuck. You know, like, you eat me, I eat you—like they do in Germany.”
You were pretty sure that’s not what they did in Germany.
“You know what I mean.” His eyes were pleading, asking you for something you weren’t quite sure of.
“I… I don’t think I do?” You took one of his hands. “Rome, what’s going on? You’re being… weirder than normal. Did something happen with Tabitha?”
Because he was in love with you and he had no idea how to say it.
The answer to Roman was simple: he just wouldn’t.
Hastily, Roman pulled away from your touch. He rolled off the bed in one single motion, almost tumbling over his own feet as he scrambled to the door. He tried to ignore your crestfallen expression watching him put more distance between the two of you.
“No, nothing happened with Tabitha. Just, uh—just think about it. I’ll text you the details to meet Eduard. Bye!” He was already halfway out the door with his last word.
You screwed your lips to the side in puzzled exasperation, and blew out a heavy sigh.
The pub was nearly empty, save for a snogging couple near the back, and a few scattered about the seats casually sipping their ale as they watched the soccer match on the mounted television above the bar. Amongst them was Eduard, standing out like a sore thumb with his crisp suit and his dark, slicked-back hair. Just the sight of him seemed to cost money.
“My God, you smell like cotton candy—I almost want to lick your neck. Don’t you want to lick his neck, Y/N?” Roman asked instead of greeting him like any regular person would.
You shot him a half-hearted glare before sticking your hand out. Roman had always been one to overstep boundaries. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Asgarov.”
“Oh, please, Eduard is fine. And the pleasure is all mine,” he languidly drawled, eyes darting up and down your form as a pleased smile curled the corner of your lips. He firmly clasped your palm in a handshake. “I’ve heard much about you—general manager… the glue of the company, some people say. But Roman never mentioned that you were so beautiful.”
A large part of Roman’s insides bristled with hostility, an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he plastered on a strained smile anyway. “Yup, yeah, forgot to mention. But, uh, yeah, thanks for coming, man. My dad’s going to be very pleased when he sees old friends and whatnot…” He waved the bartender over to order himself a pint, and added on a non-alcoholic beverage for you—he knew you didn’t like to drink during the day. Then, he caught sight of the television. “What’s this? Who’s playing?”
“Scottish,” replied Eduard, taking a sip of his own beer. “I’m thinking of getting in.”
Your eyebrows raised a notch. “Mmh, smart choice. Lots of buried money in European soccer leagues.”
Eduard spared you a warm smile.
A frown crossed Roman’s features—he was starting to regret inviting you, even though he’d been the one to suggest you flirt him up.
“Scottish kicky-ball,” he remarked. “Looks like two eunuchs trying to fuck a letterbox.”
His foul comment went largely ignored by the two of you.
Eduard was certainly an attractive man, you thought once you watched his tongue draw out to run along his lips in thought. “I’m liking the look of Hibs,” he said, eyes trained on the television, flitting down to glance at you for a second. “Or Hearts. I’m undecided.”
“Hearts?” asked Roman. “That’s my dad’s team. The only childhood relic he can stomach.”
Hazy memories of seven-year-old you peeking over the expensive leather couches to see what your godfather was watching on screen came across your mind. It always cycled through the same three channels: ATN, soccer, and old black-and-white English films from the fifties. You never stayed for long, always darting out of the room in fear of him turning to see you there, watching along with him. But from the little that you did catch a glimpse of—you could only barely recall the green insignias and jerseys of the Hibs on the screen.
“I think he was a Hibs fan, no?” you asked, thanking the bartender when he slid your drink over.
Roman scoffed. “Pfft—I think I’d know which team dad likes.” You didn’t bother trying to argue with him. After all, your childhood memories weren’t exactly the most reliable source.
With a half-minded hum, Eduard said, “I’ve got an agent in Spain. I buy the club, he loans me nine shit-hot players. Climb the ladder, take the second Champion’s League space, UEFA goes full European super-league, flip it, walk away.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds fucking slick, dude,” Roman replied, sipping on the frothy part of his drink. “Slicker than cum on a dolphin’s back.”
“You want in?” asked Eduard.
“Mmh, maybe. But before all that—can we talk about what we talked about before? You know, a major injection, or even taking us private. Have you talked to your dad?” asked Roman.
A smile and a nod. “It’s a conversation we can have—I have total, three-sixty latitude to work on my father’s behalf.”
“Great. Yeah, cool. No, me too. Yup.”
He didn’t, but you wisely kept your mouth shut.
“Weird, how much we’re the same,” said Roman, playfully punching Eduard’s shoulder.
“Yeah, you guys are practically twins,” you quipped, smiling over the rim of your glass. “Couldn’t tell the two of you apart.”
The dark-haired man tilted his head. “Buy them with me. We’ll split it fifty-fifty.”
“I, uh…” Roman spared you a look, silently asking you if he was being stupid with his rashness. “I don’t really see a downside, other than zero knowledge or interest in Scottish football. But, yeah! Hearts. Sounds fun.”
“Hibs,” you said.
Roman wrinkled his nose. “Hearts.”
“Hearts, it is,” said Eduard.
It wasn’t Hearts.
After Kendall’s laughable rap song about—what was it—stanning his dad and calling him the OG, Roman had broken the news that he’d bought the Hearts club as a present for Logan on such a special day.
Logan fixed the three of you with a blank stare.
“The Hearts?” he echoed.
Roman spread his arms, wiggling the tips of his finger in a sad rendition of jazz hands. “Mhm.”
“Hearts Football Club?”
Roman nodded.
Shiftily, Logan looked towards you. He always looked to you for clarification when he couldn’t understand his son—which was quite often.
“Uhm, Roman bought the Hearts for you,” you said, voice small.
“It’s your team, right?” Rome asked.
A beat of silence.
“I’m Hibs,” said your godfather.
You fucking knew it.
“You’re Hibs,” parroted Roman, his shoulders beginning to droop. “Really? Are you sure? I thought you were Hearts—I’m pretty sure you were Hearts, dad.”
Scratching at his chin, Logan softly said, “You know what, maybe you’re right. Hm. How would I know what team I’ve supported all my fucking life? Who knows—maybe I supported Kilmarnock. Or Fucklechester Rangers? I mean, how could I possibly know?”
Roman recoiled as if he’d been kicked. Eduard patted his shoulder, and brushed his hand along your lower back as he slipped away, chest burning with secondhand embarrassment.
“Sorry, Uncle Logan, there’s just been a, uh, a miscommunication—” you said, hastily tugging Roman away. The two of you wove through the crowd until you got out of the large room, into one of the quieter halls.
You chewed on your bottom lip, watching Roman frustratedly pace back and forth in front of you. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he snapped out, “I thought he was fucking Hearts, dude!”
“... I told you, Ro.”
He scowled. “Ugh. Shut up.”
Before you could ask if he could maybe switch somehow, two figures pushed through the doors, coming to stand in front of you. You tore your gaze away from the flustered man, fixing your eyes on—
Fuck.
“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N,” said your mother. In her hand was a glass of wine, half empty. “You’ve grown quite a bit. Have you gained weight?”
She reached out, but you immediately stepped back, closer to Roman.
After getting over your initial shock, you cleared your throat and tentatively responded, “Hi, mom. Dad.”
The couple gave you an awkward onceover. It’d been years since you last saw them, with maybe one or two texts exchanged every year for the holidays. Though, even that wasn’t a guarantee.
“We, uhm, we saw you rush out with Roman here and thought we’d say hello,” said your father, sparing you a terse smile.
“Wow.” Roman, unsurprisingly, inserted himself into the conversation. “And the parents of the year award goes to…”
“You thought you’d say hello. Jesus—I haven’t seen either of you in fucking forever and the first thing you do is nitpick at my appearance?” you growled, fists clenching by your side. “Listen, if you want to be in my life, then be in my life. But you can’t pretend that everything is okay when you see me and then promptly waltz off and disappear for another decade or two.”
Your mother sipped at her wine, at a loss for words. They glanced at each other, both wearing a mildly guilty expression, but had really nothing to defend themself with.
With an angry scoff, you stormed back into the room where Logan was about to give his closing speech, shoulder roughly knocking into your father’s as you brushed past him.
Roman scratched the back of his head, left alone with your parents.
“For the record, Y/N is doing fucking great without either of you. You know—crunching those numbers, being a goddamn messiah for the lower-level employees, fucking the boss. All that jazz.” He grinned and hum-laughed when their eyes widened in shock, and sauntered in after you. It wasn’t exactly that white of a lie. You’d given him a handjob and the two of you technically had phone sex—would those two activities put together constitute as one whole traditional, in-person fuck?
He’d come in to stand beside you and Tabitha just in time to hear his father make the announcement.
“... And I shall be appointing Rhea Jarrell as my Chief Executive Operator.”
The crowd burst into applause. Roman clapped with a faux-surprised expression. When he glanced at you, you were wiping the corner of your eyes with the back of your palm and hastily clapped along.
Once the cheers began to mellow away, Roman stopped clapping to lace his fingers through the gaps of yours, squeezing tight. Your eyes watered even more at the contact, but you squeezed back in gratitude.
There was an interview of James Weissel on the television: a whistleblowing interview tossing Gerri, Kendall, and Tom into the stinking shitpot that was the cruise incidents, accusing the three of covering up McClintock’s actions. Logan had shut it off before anybody could finish watching.
Whilst everyone was busy prattling off about how bad of a situation this was, Gerri seemed to be the one lighthouse amidst the storm.
“I say we tell the truth,” she calmly said, adjusting her glasses to sit higher up her nose. “The family knew nothing of this. We throw Mo overboard. Mo, bad apple. Jim Weasel, bad apple. Spies a book deal—sotto voce, backed by Sandy and Stewy. All corporate fuckery, no real concern. In terms of historic shit? I say we give up Bill. He should’ve let us know what he discovered rather than cleaning up without telling us the details.”
Bill had been the old Tom before Tom was, well, Tom.
And so there was the strategy: letting Bill take the fall, and kill him off. It wasn’t… a decision you necessarily felt good about, but it was the least messy the situation could be.
Things felt like they’d be smoothed over, just for a little bit.
But then Siobhan came in, phone clutched tightly in her hand. “Gil is going to call for hearings.”
This stirred up quite a murmur in the room. Both Kendall and Frank sat up in their seats with incredulous questions on the tip of their tongues.
“Yeah, Senate Commerce. Probably House, too.”
Gerri was on her phone in an instant. “Buckle up folks,” she said while scrolling through the news. “We’re going to get an invite to the national latrine. See who’s going to take a public dump.”
“Mr. Fuck is going to Washington,” Shiv sighed.
It was then that Logan let out an ear-splitting bellow of rage. It shocked both you and Roman into flinching.
“NO! I CAN’T HAVE THIS NOW!” he screamed in distress.
There was a long moment of silence.
In a leveled tone, you asked Shiv, “Who’s testifying?”
“Uh, well… well, they’d want Dad.”
Kendall quickly protested, “No, we can’t—we won’t let that happen—”
“Protect the egg chamber!” said Roman. Nobody could quite tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
It was then that Hugo suggested Gerri and Tom to testify. The group went back and forth for a little while longer on what the play would be, but it was quite clear that everybody was already settled with Gerri and Tom going up there.
To your surprise, Logan called for you and Roman out of the room.
A part of you wondered if he’d beat Roman over the head with his fancy business shoe for buying the wrong soccer team. You certainly wouldn’t put it past him, especially in his already-agitated state.
“I need both of your help,” he told the two of you once you were out of the room, lingering by the foot of the pristine staircase.
“Need someone to run to the store for smokes?” Roman asked, his hands propped on his hips.
“This’ll go on all night… and it might not be okay,” your godfather said.
This made you tilt your head. “Will this really sway the shareholders into folding? It happened under our noses three decades ago, and the perpetrator is dead.”
“The very fact that we’re being called to testify will spook the shareholders. I’m on a knife’s edge.” He grunted softly as he lowered himself to sit on one of the lower steps of the cold staircase. “Ten bad minutes on camera, and that could be it. The end.”
Roman’s brows raised. “The end? Come on, Dad.”
“I need the two of you to chase down the sovereign wealth money,” said Logan.
You and Roman glanced at one another. Was he being serious?
“Right. Uhm… I mean—that’s… it’s a cool idea, but it’d be a stretch, no?” Roman tentatively brought up.
Logan leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his elbows, which were resting upon his knees. Though he had made himself physically smaller, he’d always be the biggest presence in the room. “We need that central Asian money. It’s a time out from the responsibilities of being a public company. That’s a fucking lifeline, if I’ve ever seen one.”
“They’d be taking on a massive amount of debt. That’s a… huge responsibility, Uncle Logan.”
The older man snorted. “Which is why I’m making you go with him. Make sure he doesn’t fuck up. Keep it under wraps. And bring Karl and Laird with you, as well, for the financial matters.” There was a pause as he studied the two of you. “Can you do it?”
Roman scratched anxiously at the back of his head. “Fuck, Dad, I want to say I can. But, I’ll be honest—if it’s, like, really important… I mean, I can say I can do it—like one of those firefighters in the movies. But I don’t know if—”
“You act the fuckleknuckle, but you know… people like you.”
There it was. A narrow slant of light. It wasn’t real—at least, you didn’t think it was—but it was warmth regardless.
Roman’s features twisted. “It’s a really big fucking deal.”
“Nah. It’s getting the right number from the right suit. Getting your dick in there is easy. Getting into bed—that’s the hard part,” said his father. “You can do it. Both of you can.”
You scuffed your shoe against the floor just as Roman’s nose twitched.
“Yeah. Sure, dad, I got it.”
Logan pushed himself off the staircase, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. The light was warm, and far too addicting. He smiled softly.
It wasn’t real, you had to remind yourself. It’s never real. But did that really matter? Did it?
“You’re brilliant, my dear. A real force to reckon with. I trust you to hammer the nail right on its head,” he said.
You swallowed harshly. “I hope we won’t disappoint, Uncle.”
When he pulled away, he began to make his way towards the doors once more. “Keep me close,” he said.
And with that, he was gone.
Roman let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.
“Why does it feel like we just dug our own graves? I feel like I’ve got fuckin’ dirt in my eyes,” he lamented just as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You know, if the company ever kills you off, I’ll quit. I don’t know how I’d do it around here without you.”
“All bark, still no bite,” you quietly told him. “You wouldn’t leave the company. Not on your own free will.”
Like a caged dog: it was only able to escape if their owner opened the door for them.
“I’ll kill myself if they kill you. I mean it—I’ll eat a fucking silver bullet.”
“How romantic.”
“Mhm—we’re like fuckin’... Romeo and Juliet.”
He smiled, and so did you.
“C’mon. Let’s go watch the grown-ass men I bought kick around balls for a bit,” said Roman.
Eduard greeted you at the soccer team’s practice field with a kiss on the cheek, Roman with a firm handshake.
“It’s good to see you,” you told him with a genuine smile.
“Good to see you guys, too,” he replied. His expression was well-guarded behind a pair of dark shades. “With everything I’ve heard going down at Waystar, I was surprised you even showed up.”
With a shrug, Roman said, “I have nothing better to do, I promise. I’m gonna cut right to the chase here—do you think there’s any chance you guys have the muscle to take us private? Is that something that’s interesting to you and your dad?”
With nearly no hesitation, Eduard bobbed his head in an affirmative.
Shocked, Karl asked, “Really? That’s…”
Eduard spared the older man half of a grin. “Yes, we’re interested. It’ll look good as part of our portfolio, and we like the news expertise you can share.” Just as Laird began spewing off details to tell Logan, Eduard cut him off by saying, “Actually, Roman, Y/N—can you guys do it? The two of you make quite a team. You and your… bum-boys here can come to Turkey tomorrow? Pitch to me and my Dad?”
You and Roman exchanged earnest glances, as if speaking to each other telepathically. You were sure you could push back your work at Waystar for a few days to settle the privatizing deal.
“Absolutely. I think we can definitely do that,” said Rome, with a pleased hum. Then, he turned back to fix his gaze on Laird and Karl. “Ain’t that right, bum-boys?”
“Why Turkey?” you asked, brows raising. “I mean, I can pitch to you anywhere, but why, you know, all the way across the ocean?”
“There’s an investing conference in Bursa. Everyone will be there—we can get into it. Unless you have any objections…?”
Hastily, you shook your head. “No, no. This is great. Thanks for the opportunity.”
“No problem,” said Eduard, watching the ball fly across the field, landing into the goal. “I like you guys. Really.”
The coach called for the team to huddle up, allowing for the owners to say a few words. A part of you wondered if Rome even remembered the name of the FC he had bought.
“Great session, guys. And listen, for Saturday, you have the ability, you have the mentality. Watch that press doesn’t leave you exposed on the turnover, and you fucking got this. Rome?” Eduard turned to your friend, who hadn’t really prepared anything to say.
Roman fixed you with a panicked look, but you nudged him forward with a purse of you lips.
Scratching the back of his head, he awkwardly started, “Uh, yeah, hey guys! Really proud to be associated with all of you. Uh, well, what the fuck can I tell you that you don’t already know? You, uh, you got all this guys, don’t worry about it. ‘Cause you guys are a team, and, uh, when a team… is a team… it can’t actually physically be beaten. It’s impossible. So, go hard, go fast—uh, go you… lovely bastards.” The team glanced at each other and began to awkwardly clap, before Rome looked to you and said, “Anything else you want to add?”
“Me?” you hissed under your breath. “Rome, I’m not an owner—”
“Just say something—!” he whispered back, yanking you forward by the arm.
Stiff, you waved at the litter of sweaty, jerseyed men in front of you. “Hi. Yeah, I’m sure you guys know I’m not one of the team’s owners, but I was there during the business negotiations as Roman’s, uh… co-partner. All I can do now is wish you all the best of luck for your next match—get some rest, eat some good food, keep your eyes on the prize. And if any of you want to get in touch with Waystar Royco for any sort of PR pitches to get your face out there… Coach will have me and Roman’s contact details.” With a smile, you stepped back, shoulder brushing against Roman’s.
“Fuck you,” he muttered bitterly. “Did you rehearse that in your head or something? How’d you manage to perfectly squeeze business into a fucking pep talk?”
You grinned and pinched his cheek lightly. “Go hard and go fast, you lovely bastard,” you mocked, voice rife with fondness, chortling when he swatted your hand away.
Before you knew it, you and Roman (and the bum-boys) were in Turkey, pitching to Eduard and his team. You had tried practicing a little the night before, but Roman had tossed all the flashcards away out of part-frustration and part-cockiness, assuring you that things would be fine.
Now, as he was speaking, he seemed pretty confident in his own words. The two of you made a good team, after all.
“Look at the cash flow,” said Roman. “We are undervalued. I think tech just had everybody shitting their pants about legacy media, but really, the wheel turns.”
You nodded with an emphatic smile. “It’s true. No matter how much content moves to streaming sites, people will always want to look for something physical. Something you can feel and experience outside of home—hence Waystar’s adventure parks, and films to experience in theaters.” You made great effort to skirt around the touchy subject of cruises at the moment.
“Most tech is overvalued. We’re profitable. We’re real money,” Roman added, growing more assured of himself with your support.
“Tech is always changing. Invest in one thing, and it’ll be outdated in a blink of an eye. Invest in things people will always need: news, broadcasting, life experiences… now that’s reliable.” Eduard flashed you a smile, as if he was already sold.
“This is a tremendous opportunity,” said Rome. “This is once in a lifetime. You get to buy into the US media landscape at the very top. The very top.”
Two of the men leaned forward to whisper indistinctly to one another.
“It’s a lot of debt,” one of them said once he finally pulled away. “You sure you can pull it together?”
“Absolutely sure,” Roman said with a mild laugh, knowing things with money and debt were quite rocky at the moment, before pointing back at Laird. “Jaime here is the fucking master of leverage. He has structured some of the biggest LBOs in history.”
“Guilty as charged,” said the older man.
Before anyone could say anything else, the doors to the room opened, and a few men filed in, murmuring indistinctly to the security. Your brows pulled together upon seeing guns strapped to their forms.
Roman exchanged a worried look with you.
“Are they, uh… are they with you?” he asked Eduard, who got up off his seat to speak to them in hushed tones.
“Rome, they have guns,” you murmured as you placed a hand on his forearm, glancing back at Karl and Laird. “What’s going on?”
The atmosphere seemed to chill when Eduard turned back to the four of you.
“Hey, look, we’re good. We’re good. But, uh… we’re all gonna go with these gentlemen now, okay?” He raised his hands in an almost placating manner, as if trying to tame a nervous mare.
Roman pointed at the armed men. “We’re going with them?” He laughed nervously, wondering if this was one big, elaborate joke. “Uh, no… I don’t think we—uh, who are these guys, exactly?”
Genuine fear began to curdle in your stomach when you watched the security walk out. “Dave just walked out. Hey, Eduard? I just—I need you to be honest with me. Are we in danger right now?”
Eduard worked his jaw in thought. “We’re just going to go with them now. Okay? It’ll be fine.”
“No, uh, I just—Can I just ask what this is in regards to?” Roman stepped in, high-strung. “Is this about the meeting? Is this a business thing?”
Did I fuck it up and put a loaded gun to my own head? he wanted to say, but bit his tongue before he could.
With a sharp tone, you asked, “Our security guy, Dave, he just walked out with them. Where’d he go? Is he coming back?”
“Dave’s not coming,” said Eduard with pursed lips.
“He’s not coming?” Roman parroted. “Uhm… I would actually really like for Dave to come?”
“Dave is downstairs, we’ll go without him,” Eduard said in a calm tone. “Dave is a security risk. It’s better with these guys, okay?”
“Well, I know Dave, and I sure as hell don’t know these guys so… I think I’d prefer Dave—” you began to say, but was quickly cut off when Eduard put a hand on your shoulder and began leading your tense form out the room, Roman hot on your heels.
“It’s all good. It’s all under control,” Eduard murmured, though you highly doubted it. “There could be a situation, but we’re being looked after.”
A frown crossed Roman’s expression. “Oh, great. We’re being looked after. Fucking great. Laird—can you call Dave?”
They pulled out their phones, but the vested men with guns took the devices away just as quickly as it was pulled out. One stood in front of you with an expectant expression, and you complied with no resistance, handing him your phone, though not without a scowl.
“Great. They took my phone, and now I can’t contact my security, and now we’re going to die,” Roman said. When you looked at him, you could see genuine, restless fear dance over his irises. You didn’t quite know what to say, so you simply squeezed his arm as the two of you walked along.
The armed men led all of you to a crowded hotel lobby, where there seemed to be more hostages, more armed folk in similar attire.
“Fuck,” Roman mumbled under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t business, is it?”
“Doesn’t look very business-y,” replied Karl.
When someone passed by and their gun brushed against your arm, you flinched back into Roman, your lips pulling back in a snarl. “Eduard. Fuck—Eduard, where the fuck are you taking us?”
“Just relax. This is normal,” he said, shiftily.
Roman scoffed. “Oh, yeah. This feels really fucking normal. Is this—are these guys terrorists? Where’s my fucking security guy? Where’s Dave?”
For a moment, Eduard seemed at a loss for words. You could feel dread pile up in your stomach. “It’s just… it’s an administrative action function,” he reluctantly said.
“Mm, yeah, great, and what exactly is that—?” Roman began to ask, before halting his own question when he trained his gaze on a struggle across the lobby. “Oh, wow, look at that. Guy not being allowed to leave the hotel at gunpoint. That’s—uh, yeah. So what’s… what’s this administrative action function?”
Pursing his lips, Eduard finally fessed up, “There’s just a gathering here now, of us and some other investors, and—”
“Men with guns?” Roman impatiently chirped.
“Yeah, yeah, that, and their guys are some kind of… anti-corruption kind of guys and this is like—it’s like their conference. Or, uh, a party of some sort. And we’re all invited.”
Your eye twitched. “That’s really lovely, but uh, what if I don’t want to go?”
A scream from somewhere over the crowd echoed through the lobby. Glass shattering followed soon after. Karl paled and he anxiously picked at a hangnail.
Eduard sighed. “It’s the kind of party where you have to go. It would be… rude.”
Roman stared at the ground, at nothing in particular. “Well, uh, I guess I wouldn’t mind being just a tiny bit rude.”
It was becoming more and more clear that no amount of protests or questions would get you out of this situation—not with every exit manned by armed personnel. The hostages in the hotel were soon herded into a large hall, empty save for bare white chairs for people to sit on. Eduard was led into a different room, and you briefly wondered if that’d be the last time you ever saw him.
You blew out a breath as you took a seat. Roman was quick to snare Laird into playing a multitude of games, like rock, paper, scissors, eye spy, and fuck, marry, kill. You didn’t pay much attention to them, instead trying to figure out what you’d do with yourself once you got out of this situation. One thing was for sure: your therapist was going to have a field day hearing this.
“Where do you think they’re taking them?” you asked the men beside you when they began grabbing hostages and shoving them out the doors.
“Doesn’t look like they’re gonna be taking a tour of the spa,” said Laird.
“My advice,” Karl huffed, looking awfully sweaty, “just don’t look at anything. If you don’t look, you’re not a witness.”
You buried your face in your hands. “Wonderful. Brilliant advice, Karl. At least you didn’t tell me to just take it if they decided to shove their dicks into my mouth.”
“Woah!” exclaimed Roman, eyes widening. “That’s not going to happen. Right? That can’t happen.”
You spared him a shrug, slumping back against the chair. Though, you were quick to sit up straight again when Eduard emerged from the doors, making a bee-line for you and Roman.
“Hey, guys. It’s all good. Things are good. So, uh, my president’s daughter’s husband has asked him to take closer control of some key assets. It’s anti-corruption, but it’s a bit of a power-grab. Some Turkish acquiescence, but it’s all in play.”
If you had to be honest, you understood very little of what he was saying. Whether it was because of your panic-hazed mind, or because he was merely being ambiguous, you couldn’t quite tell.
“Not to, uh, make this all about us…” began Roman, tentative, “but are they going to shoot us at any point?”
“No one is getting shot,” assured the bearded man. “Look, it’s complicated, but with the Zeynal here—there’s some interest about the deal.”
Deal?
Both you and Roman glanced at each other.
“Uh, fuck. Okay. The deal, sure,” said Rome.
“One thing they wanted clarity on was—how could they be sure the deal wouldn’t be blocked by your government?” Eduard asked.
You stuck your tongue against your cheek when Roman shook his head, “Well, it wouldn’t. My father has a lot of sway. I mean, he can’t lock up his opponents in a hotel, but, well, he kinda could.”
“And you’re the target of another bid? Won’t that be a problem?”
Sandy and Stewy. “Not a problem,” you quickly said. “They’re all bark, very little bite. If the price is right, we can easily reach a settlement before the shareholder meeting.”
With a nod, Eduard patted your knee, and he got up to leave—talk to his associates once more.
“That went well,” said Laird, mildly surprised.
“Yeah… a little too well,” Roman mused.
Hours later, Eduard returned, calling for the four of you to follow him.
It was a pitch. A messy pitch—one you clearly weren’t in the right mindspace for. One where the audience had clear smudges of coke lining their nostrils, dusting their tables. One that had a lot of money thrown into the empty promises, accompanied by high smiles and wandering eyes. It made you feel sick, and Roman clearly wasn’t a fan of it, either. Laird seemed to be satisfied with the mutual agreements, though. He heard money, and he immediately thought he was safe.
But the agreements didn’t feel quite real. None of it felt real. It was all bullshit, you wanted to yell at their face. Being held at gunpoint to play business in front of the coked out billionaires was not your preferred method of saving the company, especially when none of the settlements felt cemented. This wasn’t safe money to bet the entire company on—it might’ve not been money at all, in fact.
By the end of everything, the ambassador had arranged for a plane to finally get you out of the country. You fell asleep as soon as you sat down in your seat, the long hours going without sleep finally catching up to you. Roman curled up in the seat beside you, his head on your shoulder. He stayed awake the entire flight, listening to your steady breaths.
The Mediterranean. The Roys were on a fancy yacht in the Mediterranean.
It would’ve sounded like a pleasant getaway, if you weren’t dead-tired, having just returned from being held hostage at gunpoint. You just wanted to go home. Logan, however, wanted you and Rome by his side—and who were you to say no to the top dog?
As the speedboat skidded to a stop by the yacht, cheers erupted from siblings, along with Gerri and Frank, Greg and Tom. Roman slid his sunglasses on as he clambered onto the larger boat’s deck.
“Here they are! The heroes of Asia!” exclaimed Shiv, a flute of champagne in hand. She was the first to greet you, taking your hand and helping you out of the speedboat. After a kiss to your cheek, you spared her an exhausted smile.
“The lions of Turkey! Welcome back, guys!” chimed Greg. He leaned down to embrace his cousin, but Roman was quick to push his face away. Greg didn’t dare try to hug you after that, merely waving from afar.
Frank clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Back like Odysseus. Did you guys ride out on sheep?”
Snorting, Shiv added, “Yeah, I heard you took down an entire army alone, bro.”
“That would’ve been really traumatizing if you weren’t already so fucked up,” Gerri told Roman, who simply frowned.
“Yeah, who’d you suck off to get out?” Kendall inserted.
Tom smiled widely from behind Shiv. “You were staying at Four Seasons, right? How did you guys escape? Did you—did you build a glider out of a caesar salad?”
Roman squinted at nothing in particular from behind the dark lens of his sunglasses. “Uh, you know what? It was actually fucking scary and we thought they might kill us, but yeah…” The tips of his fingers wiggled in a poor rendition of jazz hands. “Hardee-har-har, caesar salads, har-har. So funny.”
An awkward silence ensued between the small group. You scritched at your neck with a wince, wanting nothing more than a shower and a nap.
“Sorry, dude. Seriously,” said Kendall.
Roman snorted. “Yeah, no. They just raped me a little, but I’m no hero. They stuck their cocks down Y/N’s throat, too. Tell them.”
He nudged you and you shook your head tiredly. “They didn’t do that.”
“See? It got so bad that she trauma-blocked the memories. Shame on all of you,” he said, propping his fists on his hips.
Feeling mildly guilty, Shiv had the gall to rub her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Sorry, Rome.”
“It’s fine. I’m just tired, or whatever. It was funny, actually. Karl almost shat in a bucket and I have it on my phone, so we can fully humiliate him in our daily jerkfest later,” said Rome, tugging you to sit down with him on a large white seat.
“So how’d it all go, business-wise?” Connor asked, eyeing the both of you curiously. “Or was that forgotten?”
Before either of you could say anything, Laird stepped in, shaking his head with a wide smile. “Oh, we can’t say anything about that. Confidential stuff. But they—they did good.”
“Oh! Okay. Promising!” Connor exclaimed, shooting the both of you a grin. “Congrats, you guys.”
Unease crackled between the two of you. When you locked gazes with Roman, he merely lifted one of his shoulders in a shrug, lips pursed. The deal probably wouldn’t go through. It was all empty promises, powdered with a layer of cocaine.
The two of you failed. And maybe that was okay.
Your hand found his, and his head knocked against yours. He drank the beer Shiv handed him, and you drank in the salty air of the sea.
After you’d finally managed to pry yourself away from Roman (or, more accurately, Roman away from you), you had yourself a nice, hot shower, and a long-overdue nap. When you drowsily blinked back into consciousness, it was early afternoon, the sun still high up in the cloudless sky. A part of you wondered how you hadn’t just slept through the entire day.
You cleaned yourself up and changed into loose loungewear, heading down a story of the yacht, where you caught sight of the Roy siblings hanging by the pool (minus Connor, who was discussing matters of the play).
Roman waved at you limply. “Hey, sleeping beauty. You were knocked out for a while. I poked you in all your ticklish spots and you didn’t even stir.”
With a sigh, you curled yourself up into the cushioned spot beside him, Shiv on your other side. On her right was Tom, who had his gaze trained on Greg on the other side of the pool—the Roy’s cousin was… getting his toes looked at by the medic? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t quite want to know.
“You know, if you snuck into my room while I’m asleep and prodded me like a corpse, at least don’t fess up to it. You weirdo,” you said once you finally tore your gaze away from Greg, wrinkling your nose at Rome fondly.
“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” Roman whistled, to which Shiv let out a loud groan of complaint.
Sloshing water from the pool drew your attention to Kendall. “You good, Y/N? Sorry about—if I was, like, insensitive earlier—”
“It’s fine,” you quickly replied. “They were never going to shoot us, anyway. It was all just… theatrics.”
Theatrics. Puppets and strings.
Kendall smiled loosely.
“So, uh, how was DC?” you asked the older man as he leaned against the rim of the pool. “They had it on the TV for a bit when we were waiting to give our pitch.”
He nodded, water dripping from his hair. “Yeah, it was—it was pretty fucking real.”
“You did good,” Roman chirped, adjusting the sunglasses on his nose.
Scoffing, Kendall shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. And what? I did good for—for a crackhead? For a moron on crack?” His voice was lilting with incredulity.
“Nope. You did good, Ken,” he said.
Shiv nodded. “Yeah. You killed it.”
Kendall wasn’t used to genuine praise from his siblings. It was usually edged with an insult, laced with sarcasm or ire.
“It was Tom that, uh… that didn’t really persuade everyone quite as well,” you said, sending an apologetic grimace to Shiv’s fiance.
“You’re being too nice. He shat his pants and puked all over the floor,” Roman huffed with an amused smile.
Tom pulled a cross face. “I didn’t—!” He drew in a sharp breath. “You know, a lot of people are saying I was deadcatting. Yeah. So like—dead cat on the table. Everyone’s looking at this dead cat, and not… not talking about your dad.”
Shiv pursed her lips. “Right. Sure, yeah, you drew the fire. Yeah.”
Both you and Roman exchanged humored looks.
“So, what’s going on with Rhea? She’s out, right?” Roman asked a beat later.
“Mhm. Melted. But she’s agreed not to say anything publicly until after the shareholder meeting,” said Shiv.
You briefly wondered why she backed away, but chalked it up to immense financial risk and potential ethical demise of her career. Good for her.
“Instead of Rhea, whose big hairy foot is going to slip into the glass slipper?” Roman queried. “Washington Ken here?”
His older brother clambered out of the pool, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. “Me? Uh, no. Nope. I mean—Rome, you brought the golden goose home.”
The two of you frowned at the same time. Roman let out a loud sigh.
“Could be anyone,” you said. “We’re right back to square one.”
“Yeah. Could be. I mean, why is Greg here?” Kendall shot a look over his shoulder to glance at his cousin, peering between his own toes.
Roman snorted. “I always ask that question.” Then, he patted your thigh and leaned against you, enjoying the warmth of your skin against his. “I did think—you know, when I thought they were going to vacuum out my innards and fill me with concrete or something—like… if we come through this, is there a thing where we, like, talk to each other about stuff? Normally?”
In a strange alien-baby voice, Shiv mocked, “You wanna twalk to each other nwormally?”
Kendall snickered and tacked on, “You wanna twalk abwout the big shit?”
“Yeah, let’s twalk abwout the big shit!”
“We can talk about—our feewings!”
The siblings joking around for a rare moment reminded you of when you were all younger, with missing teeth and scraped knees. When Shiv’s hair would still be done up in a ponytail and yours would be twisted into pigtails. Simpler times—when things weren’t all that simple but you, in your blissful ignorance, had thought they were.
Though you really didn’t want to laugh, you tried your best to smother down a chuckle, making Roman send you a betrayed glare.
“Wow. Really? You, too?” He lightly shoved you away, and you and Shiv burst into a fit of giggles when you knocked into her. “How am I the most mature one here?”
“Sowwy, Wome,” you crooned in the same alien-baby voice. He kicked at your foot, then hooked his leg over yours.
The laughter dulled away when the whirring of helicopter blades descended over the yacht.
Logan was here.
“Emotional gunship incoming,” said Kendall.
“Yeah. Send out the distress signal,” Shiv added, the smile on her lips fading away as she looked up to see her father fly down. “We’re under attack.”
Logan was smiling. It wasn’t often that he smiled.
He greeted you with a chaste kiss to the cheek, and Roman with a pat to the shoulder. It was warm in the light—brief, but warm nonetheless.
When he hoarded the two of you, along with bum-boys Laird and Karl into a separate room, he immediately asked, “Are you two alright? I heard it got a bit tasty.”
Tasty wasn’t exactly the right word for it, you thought.
“Mmh, we’re fine. I’ve had worse experiences at hotels before,” Roman languidly commented, shrugging it off.
Logan tilted his head. “Did they look after you? I spoke to the White House.”
“Someone came and told us there was a warship,” you said, pursing your lips. “Felt a bit extreme.”
“Knowing us gun-handy Americans, I bet it was already there,” Roman snorted, pouring himself a drink. “The ambassador took us for a shitty lunch—you know, sorry that you were held at gunpoint, have a cheese sandwich.”
Logan gestured for all of you to take a seat. “So… on the money. What’s the situation?”
“The kids did great,” said Laird, which made Roman audibly gag. “I think, Mr. Roy, you’ll be able to go private. Eduard and his father have titular responsibility for the sovereign wealth but the president’s daughter’s husband, Zeynal, is the key guy now. The two of ‘em killed it with him.”
Shrugging, Roman said, “Well, it was clear Eduard was getting sidelined. Zeynal figured out who we were, and I thought we were gonna be taken to get a fucking chainsaw massage but… nope. We had an hour, we pitched hard, and they said they wanted in.”
“Too modest,” Laird emphasized, brows raising. “This is the perfect opportunity.”
It wasn’t. It never was.
Karl went on to talk about the numbers, and Logan seemed quite pleased.
“That’s great. That’s fucking fantastic!” announced Roman’s father.
Rome bit down on the inside of his cheek. He winced, and scratched at his head.
“I just… I do have to say one thing, dad…”
Panic flashed across Laird’s eyes. “Roman, we’re good.”
Ignoring him, Roman said, “I mean, we had a good talk with Zeynal and he said, with his mouth, that he wanted in and that’s great and all… but if this is really serious for us, I think I actually do have to say that it feels like it’s… probably horseshit.”
A beat of silence.
Laird’s eyes twitched.
Clearing your throat, you said, “Yeah, I just wanna make it clear that they said they wanted in, but didn’t sign anything yet. I mean, it’s not like we had any documents on hand but… words mean nothing. Uncle Logan, I don’t know if it’s… really smart to bank the entire future of the company on words of drug-addled men taking a piss out of you.”
Logan’s brows raised.
“It was flaky,” Roman added. “There was a lot of shit going on.”
The head man glanced at Karl, who remained deathly quiet, and then back to you.
“Roman, they want to rebalance their portfolio for, uh, for a variety of geopolitical reasons,” began Laird. “It’s very European-focused, and he wants to tilt Western Hemisphere. It’s all very logical! I know that it’s a lot of money, and that can be very scary, but it makes sense.”
“All due respect, Laird, but I really don’t think they give a shit about adding us to their portfolio,” you said, voice hesitant. “They know we’re in debt. They know we’re in hot water with a large sector of the company. Why would they want in at all, much less hand over a ten billion dollar investment like it’s nothing?”
Roman sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry that we’re worrying our pretty little heads, Laird, but if they’re rebalancing their portfolio, it’d be fucking insane to do it over one ten-bil mega deal like it’s nothing.”
“Yeah, it’d be more sensible that they invest into several different markets around the globe,” you agreed. “None of this feels right.”
“It doesn’t matter what it feels like,” stressed Laird. “They said yes!”
With a frown, Roman retorted back, “Maybe, sure, they said yes! And there’s a ten or twenty percent chance that you’d make, like, a hundred million bucks with this deal. That’s so exciting! But if we miss, we could be fucked.”
Logan’s expression was hard to read. Anger? Disbelief? Disappointment? Acceptance? You couldn’t quite tell.
Swallowing hard, you said, “If we go through with this and none of it turns out to be real, we’d go straight over the edge. No votes, no political gain, no money.”
Finally, Logan murmured, “If it falls halfway through, it’d be terminal.”
A vein popped out on Laird’s head. “But if it works… just one step forward, and you’d be free.”
You couldn’t help but scoff. “Free from what? Just because we go private doesn’t mean we can do fuck all.”
Before Laird could argue back, Logan fixed his stare onto Roman. “Son?” he asked.
“Dad, I have to say, I’ve done a little bullshitting in my time—and Zenyal was a cokey, lying, 3 AM scotch and see-you-in-the-morning man. He won’t follow through.”
With a frustrated groan, Laird angrily got up from his seat.
Roman shook his head. “Dad, I wish it was real. I really fucking do. But it’s not—and we have to step away.”
When Logan turned his stare onto you, you nodded in agreement with Roman.
“Karl?” your godfather asked.
The man buckled under the scrutiny. “You can’t lean on this,” he said. “Not now.”
His mind finally made, Logan got up onto his feet. “I’m sorry, Jaime. Keep exploring, keep talking. I cannot pile my chips on something that isn’t solid.”
“Excellent,” sighed Jaime. He looked at you, then at Roman. “You wanna talk solid? Maybe take a look at your kid there. Does he sound solid to you? And—thanks for the support, Karl. I hope you enjoy the king’s favors, because you know what you’re looking at if you don’t go private. Someone has to pay the price. Someone is going to go to jail, and I won’t be around to see it.”
With that, he dramatically took his leave. Roman tilted his head back and rolled his eyes.
“I wanna do the best thing. The most decent thing,” said Logan. His hand was on your shoulder for a moment, before he pulled away. “Tomorrow we’ll get into a discussion about our missteps and how we can indicate how sorry we are to the rest of the world. Get some rest, the both of you.”
As you clambered into bed, Roman unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it somewhere behind him. He’d followed you into the cabin, claiming that there were no available cabins left—and you knew he was lying, because you’d passed by several empty rooms on the way to yours, but you didn’t bother to protest.
“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.”
“Ugh, shut up.”
“You know, I overheard Tom and Shiv speaking to each other,” you said as you fluffed up a pillow to lay on.
“Ooh. Is Tom the one getting shitcanned? No surprise there,” Roman replied, crawling next to you and laid down on his stomach, head resting on his crossed arms.
“No. I mean, I don’t actually know who it’ll be, but—” You paused to smile, near-childish laughter falling from your lips. “I heard Tom saying he was excited for a threesome.”
“Ew! What? Ew! Tell me more,” Roman exclaimed, swatting at your arms and you shoved him back, laughing at his tone. “Oh, that’s so gross. Never pegged Tom as the type.”
“I don’t think it was Tom’s idea.”
“Ew!”
The two of you giggled about it some more, before you lolled your head over to face him.
“Do you think it could be me?” you quietly asked. “Would Logan throw me to the sharks?”
Roman hummed. “Sometimes it feels like he likes you better than any of his own fucking kids. You’re not getting canned. It won’t make sense.”
“Hm.”
He threw an arm over your stomach. “But… it won’t be me, right?”
“I don’t know, Rome,” you told him honestly. “After today… I just don’t know. But I’ve got your back.”
The two of you basked in the comfort of each other’s quiet for a brief moment. You scooched closer to him and shut your eyes.
“You’re a really good friend, Rome.”
Something akin to an amused snort fell from his lips. “Pfft. Friend. I don’t think friends jerk off to the sound of each other’s voices. You’ve had your hand on my dick. Is that what friends do these days?”
“Friends with benefits, then.”
He brushed his lips along your shoulder, light as a feather, barely there. There was a strange ache in his chest. An ache that you also felt. The two of you ached together, unknowingly.
“Hm. I like the sound of that. It’s like you’re my personal whore.”
“It’s a two-way street.”
“Yeah. You fuck me, I fuck you. You kill me, I kill you. Like they do in Germany.”
There it was again. What was with Roman and Germany?
“Sure. Like they do in Germany.”
It was hard to stomach breakfast with your restless nerves shooting adrenaline through your veins. You anxiously plowed through two apples and started on your third just when Logan stepped onto the lower level. Everybody’s attention piqued, their heads turning, postures stiffening up against the chairs around the dining table.
When Gerri tentatively asked him who he had in mind as the sacrificial lamb, Logan waved her away.
“Enough. We stick together, alright? Most things don’t exist. The Ford motor company hardly exists—it’s just a time-saving expression for a collection of financial interests. But this exists, because…”
Roman leaned in close to mockingly whisper, “Family.”
“Family,” Logan finished. “We are a family. And so that’s why I think… I think the obvious choice is me.”
A ripple of shock coursed through the small group. Your eyes narrowed, unsure of what game Logan was playing at now.
“No,” Shiv vehemently said. “What? Dad, you—you can’t.”
Logan tilted his head. It wasn’t often he was told that he couldn’t. “Well, I may not be responsible, but the buck has to stop somewhere.”
The rest of the group erupted in protests. Tom, Kendall, Frank. They were all bleating sheep. Roman rolled his eyes.
“It doesn’t work,” Kendall elaborated. “When people find out Rhea isn’t coming in, we’d need stability. From you.”
Logan raised a single finger. “I need one meaningful skull to wave.” Wave didn’t seem quite the appropriate term. Chop off, maybe. Sever was a good one. “If the shareholders’ meeting was tomorrow, we lose. I need to persuade a number of big figures. So… would anyone like to say anything?”
Crackling silence. Across the table, Greg popped a fat green grape into his mouth.
“I’ll take care of whoever it is,” said Logan. “No one will be forgotten.”
Clearing his throat, Kendall ventured out, “Well, I mean, if we’re doing this, I don’t wanna spread shit around. We’re all loyal servants here. But, uh, I say this without malice aforethought, presumably, uhm, general counsel is the center of the web. Sorry, Gerri. I like you, I do.”
Logan reached out to put his hand over the blonde woman’s. “There is no one more loyal than Gerri,” he said, effectively dismissing the idea.
But you saw right through him. It wasn’t about Gerri’s loyalty. She wasn’t a big enough cut.
“What about Frank?” Roman offered. Everyone was well aware of his disdain for the older man. “How come Frank is even here today?”
Full of ire, Logan’s old friend nodded his head. “Thanks, Roman. I see it. I could take it. I mean, I make sense.”
“Yeah. And after what he did to you? The whole boardroom coup?” Roman lifted a shoulder, convinced that Frank was the most obvious choice.
“Water under the bridge.” Logan brushed away once more. Still not big enough.
After a long while of stammering, Frank finally coughed out, “I would say objectively, considering my, uh, my indiscretion against the family makes me a less compelling sacrifice. Unlike—uhm, for instance, a loyal servant like Karl.”
Instead of defending himself, Karl decided to turn the blade right back around to Gerri. “My thing is, I guess, if Rhea is no more, then sadly, we’re back to having Gerri as named successor. So that fattens her up for the kill, in my opinion.”
“Everyone knows I was just a name on a piece of paper,” defended the woman, laughing incredulously.
“Oh, don’t put yourself down. I think you were always more than that,” scoffed Karl. “And, you know, the old copy book is a bit blotty. Expense accounts… daughter’s first class on the company coin…”
“Karl sounds good!” Tom chimed in. “Sausage thief,” he bitterly muttered, in reference to the entire Boar on the Floor debacle in Hungary.
“Gerri is theoretically kind of perfect,” said Connor.
“No,” Roman was quick to protest. “Nope. That’s bullshit. I disagree.”
Propping his joined hands on the table, Logan asked, “Why?”
“Why? Because that’s my opinion,” Roman said in a defensive manner.
“Yeah… but your reasoning?”
With a hasty glance to you, Roman hastily spun out, “Seriously, Gerri? To pay for cruises? We, what, we take out our senior woman? Haven’t we, you know—kidding, here, but—killed enough women already?”
“It’d look orchestrated. Gerri is just too obvious,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Sexual misconduct cases three decades ago, and we’d be placing the blame on general counsel and simply wiping our hands clean? Not to mention it’d just make Waystar look more… anti-women if we went down that route.”
Roman nodded. “Listen, I think the obvious choice here is, and I hate to say it because he’s such a swell guy, but—” he made a whistling noise and pointed to the man sitting across from him, “Tom.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, you're the head of cruises, man.”
Kendall pursed his lips. “I gotta agree with Rome here. Tom, I fucking love you dude, but you shat the bed over Mo Lester.”
“But I was sent in there as the fucking beating man—I took the fucking beating!”
Shiv shook the back of her head, making no effort to defend her husband.
“You got suckered in by Eavis,” said Kendall.
“I answered the questions!”
“You don’t answer the questions. Okay? That’s, like, rule one.” Kendall patted his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I’m not beating up on you here, I’m just saying that he got a win off you and you’re kinda the face of this now.”
Lifting her head up high, Shiv said, “Tom looks logical. Cruises, document destruction. It’d be laid out for us.”
Tom’s gaze swiveled to his wife, expression utterly torn. “What?” he croaked out.
“I’m not saying you should be,” the red-head defended. “But I’m just saying you’re like family, but you’re not… actually family, which is also good. Tom, it’s the elephant in the room. We can say that!”
“No, we can’t! There’s absolutely no need to speak of the elephant in the room! There’s fifteen other fucking elephants in this room!” With an angry scoff, Tom threw both his hands up. “If you want someone who’s family but not family, what about Y/N?”
Immediately, Roman let out a high-pitched, “No! Why would it—why the fuck should it be her?”
Tom’s face contorted under the scrutiny. “I don’t know. General manager of Waystar, and goddaughter to Logan sounds like a good fucking steak to throw to the lions.” At your confused expression, Tom quickly backed down. “I’m not actually saying Y/N. I’m just saying things! It just—it shouldn’t be me. What about you, huh, Shiv?”
“Okay, fine. How do I work?” she hissed out.
“I don’t know!” Tom exclaimed, his voice raising a few notches in volume.
Gerri pursed her lips to the side and mentioned, “I mean, if we’re saying Shiv, we could highlight witness tampering and, uh, that she was going to take over but—I don’t know, it probably wouldn’t work.”
Shiv reared back as if she’d been stung. “Uh, yeah. Too fucking right it wouldn’t work. I don’t make sense, I’ve never been inside.”
“What about both of them? Shiv and Tom? Beauty and the beast,” Roman said.
“Does Tom work?” Logan asked. “Alone?”
A long beat of silence.
In all honesty, you thought he’d work. The missing documents were more than enough to go off of.
But Kendall shook his head, and it flew right out the window. “Honestly, I don’t think he’s a big enough skull. No offense.”
“Then how about Tom with some fucking… Greg sprinkles?” Roman asked, gesturing to his cousin, who’d managed to polish off all the grapes on the tray. One of the workers floated by to take the tray away, no doubt to fill it back up again.
“Greg sprinkles?” parroted Greg.
Wincing, you apologetically added, “I mean, you did destroy those documents for Tom, no? It’s—it's an aided crime. It works.”
Connor laughed. “Elmo and Big Bird. I could start to see that, yeah. You could throw in a Karl or a Frank, and you’re golden.”
“What—what precisely are Greg sprinkles?” asked the Roy cousin.
“Greg sprinkles are basically a fantastic garnish for practically anyone seated at this table,” Roman replied with a faux warm smile. “Like a Tom sundae with a little Greg cherry on top.” He popped his lips and Greg frowned.
“No, I object. I do. I mean—I’m more than a sprinkle! What about you, huh? What about Roman?”
“Roman?” you asked, cocking a brow. “How would he be a good candidate?”
“Well, he’s widely known as a terrible person!”
Roman snorted. “Thanks, Toe Jam.”
“There’s another elephant in the room,” Connor interrupted. “What about I just throw myself over the side, huh?”
Shiv laughed quietly, hiding her smile behind her palm.
“Yeah, just—in return for a payout. I’m cash strapped, so just lock me into that sweet, sweet golden parachute and toss me in the volcano!” said the oldest Roy sibling. On he blathered, about how he should be the one to take the fall.
Logan glanced around. “That’s… that’s kind of you, Con. Thank you. We’ll bear it in mind.” He smiled, but it wasn’t quite authentic. It wasn’t real. Connor slumped back, going largely ignored once again.
With that, Logan stood up. “We have half an idea but… yeah. Let’s do this later.”
Off he went, through the glass doors, gone to God knows where.
You and Roman exchanged a look. His was one of relief and gratitude, yours was one of exasperation. Then, Roman leaned forward to snatch the tray of grapes away from Greg, and offered a branch of the plump green fruits to you.
Dinner left a stale taste in your mouth. Maybe it was because you weren’t particularly fond of the served courses. Maybe it was because of the rocking motions of the boat upsetting your stomach. Or maybe—maybe it was because Logan had finally chosen his sacrificial lamb.
Kendall stood beside his father with pursed lips. Logan nodded to the sitting group. “I’ve decided,” he simply said.
Incredulity danced across Roman’s expression, brows raised. “Ken?” he asked. “Come on, really? Dad, you—no. There’s… what about the… one of the other shitfuckers?”
Your eyes darted from your godfather, to Kendall, who took a seat across from you. He met your eyes, if only for a brief moment. A part of you felt bad for him—after all, to you he was always going to be the eight-year-old boy draped in a suit far too large for him, practicing a speech in front of the mirror for a nameless award he was going to accept one day. He’d make you and Roman sit down and listen to him, four and five years of age, expectantly turning to the two of you after he was done and asking if it sounded okay. Desperate for approval, even if the assurance came from two young kids with missing teeth and bored eyes.
He was practically your brother. You averted your gaze with mild shame burning within your chest.
“Hey, it’s okay,” said Kendall. He looked around the table. “You’re all off the hook.”
Roman leaned forward and asked, uncharacteristically genuine, “You okay?”
Wordless, Kendall nodded. He was trying his best to stave away the frown tugging at the corners of his lips. There were tears warbling over his irises.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good.”
But he wasn’t. Roman knew, and you knew, too.
Karl cleared his throat. “Is it just… I don’t wanna be rude here—is it just him?”
Gerri tilted her head. “First—uh, second-born son—with his responsibilities, it wouldn’t be a hard sell.”
“Roman,” said Logan. “You’re taking over as full chief operating officer.”
An indignant noise fell from his throat. “Yeah? What with Captain Cautious back in the other room?”
“No, no. Frank’s going to be responsible for the cruises clean up. You’re on your own. Solo.” Logan stared at his youngest son. “Can you handle it?”
Beneath the table, Roman’s jostling knee bumped into yours. “Yeah,” he unenthusiastically said. “That’s really exciting.”
Kendall spared his little brother a lopsided smile. “No, Rome. It’s great. For real.” Then, he raised a fork. “Eat up, guys. This one’s on me.”
Day three on the boat. You woke up to Roman’s arms wrapped around your midriff, his face buried in the fabric over your chest. He sleepily mumbled and whined when you dragged yourself (and, effectively, him as well, seeing as he refused to let go of you) out of bed. The two of you brushed your teeth together before you promptly kicked him out of your room so you could take a quick shower in peace.
By the time the both of you got down to have breakfast, Greg was the one to tell you that Kendall had left earlier in the morning.
“Right to his slaughter,” you mumbled to Rome, who’s face twisted with guilt.
An hour later, you were watching Kendall on the television. Shiv and Logan were on the couches, and Roman had both his hands resting on your shoulders, kneading your muscles as if you were a stress ball.
“I have been asked to explain my role in the management of illegality at the firm and associated cover ups. And it has been suggested that I would be a suitable figure to absorb the anger and concern,” said screen Kendall. To your surprise, his words were followed by, “But…”
You and Roman exchanged glances. He stopped working at your shoulders and crossed his arms.
“The truth is that my father is a malignant presence. He is a liar, a bully, and was fully aware of the events that had transpired on the cruise ships for many years, and made efforts to hide and cover up. He had a twisted sense of loyalty to bad actors like Lester McClintock, and a disregard for the safety of migrant workers, union and non-union workers, along with vulnerable performers and guests.”
“Fuck me,” Roman whispered. Logan silently lifted a finger to his lips to shush him.
The Kendall on screen was vastly different to the puppet Kendall you’d come to know for the past few months. He’d finally broken free of his strings.
“My father keeps a watchful eye over his entire empire, and the notion that he would have allowed millions of dollars of settlements and compensation to be paid without his explicit approval is utterly fanciful. I have with me today copies of records that show his personal sign-off. How much those of us who executed his wishes bear responsibility is for another day.”
Shiv briefly twisted around to shoot you an utterly dumbfounded look, as if to ask you if you’d known he was going to do this. You sent her an equally befuddled expression.
“But I think…” said Kendall, “This is the day his reign ends.”
With that, Kendall got up and walked off to the side, out of the camera’s view. You couldn’t see it, for Logan was facing the screen, but there was a slight smile on your godfather’s face.
#roman roy x reader#roman roy fanfiction#roman roy smut#roman roy fluff#roman roy series#roman roy ff#roman roy angst#roman roy x you#roman roy fanfic#succession roman#succession roman x reader#roman roy#succession fanfiction#succession x reader#roman roy imagine
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helloo requesting a Roman Roy x reader where Roman makes her feel really shitty and insecure but she really loves him and stays in their toxic relationship, argument and he invalidates her , if you want please thank you 🖤
even if it hurts me
roman roy x reader
synopsis: roman roy didn’t know just how lucky he really is
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“mhm, and that hot piece of ass should be walking in here any minute.” roman looked down at his watch, bored with the so-called ‘family meeting’ that kendall had organized to conspire against logan. roman didn’t care much for kendall’s rants and antics, he was only there so he wouldn’t be left out.
shiv scoffed, looking down at the floor as she crossed her arms. “i thought that having a girlfriend would make you respect women.” she liked the influence you had on roman, but he was always resisting it any chance he could.
roman saw your reflection in the glass as you approached the glass office. he stood up, stretching a leg out dramatically as you opened the door. “oh it did. just not this one.” he grabbed you, pulling you tight into his side. you didn’t have enough time to even react, but you managed to squirm free.
“can you not-“ you turned a shade of red, catching both shiv and kendall’s eyes before shifting them to the carpet out of embarrassment. you distanced yourself slight from roman before smiling at the siblings. roman rolled his eyes and began to practically push you out the door, “stop kissing their asses, focus on mine, hmm?” he clapped a hand on your hip, squeezing the skin tightly.
you winced slightly, allowing him to shove you out the door until he was pulling you with him towards the elevators.
you stayed silent as he pressed the elevator button. roman’s impatience got the best of him as he slammed the button again.
and again.
and again.
and again.
you sighed, hoping that the final time he slammed it would be the last. but just as his hand lifted up towards the button, you found yourself shouting stop at the top of your lungs.
he froze, eyes widening as he turned to look at you. you were speechless, mainly in shock at your own behavior but anger washed over you as he maintained eye contact, hand slamming the button once more.
“you son of a bitch.” you gritted. annoyed at roman, you didn’t hesitate to push him out of the way as the elevator doors opened. roman faked an ‘ow!’ and followed in after you. you were angry, he could tell. perhaps it was the way it had gone with his siblings, he noticed that had become a pattern.
“do i not fuck you good enough?” roman broke the silence on the ride down, head tilting down at you in a condescending manner. his tone shifted, and he smirked slightly, “not good enough that you still think that you can tell me what to do?” he stared into your eyes, waiting for an answer.
you flinched slightly under his gaze, but remained steady, “no you don’t. not with your tiny cock, any fucking feels like a pinch.”
roman’s laughter burst into the tiny space and you forced yourself to stare ahead as he finished out his mocking laughter.
“oh my god. that one,” he slapped his knee, still laughing hysterically, “was good! if you hadn’t been begging to be fucked just,” he looked down at his watch, “some odd five hours ago?”
you stared at roman, challenging his eye once more. you grabbed his hand, tightly twisting it in yours, “hit me.” roman’s expression twisted into shock, “hit me! fucking hit me! be a coward like your father, and hit me!” you screamed, feeling the anger bubble over.
roman pulled his hand out of yours and stepped back into the elevator wall. “are you insane?! no!”
you rolled your eyes, “why not? hmm? you have the balls to embarrass me, humiliate me, and condescend me any chance you get. why cant you be a fucking man and hit me?” the intensity in your voice rose and roman looked bewildered.
“can you shut the fuck up for two seconds?! im not going to hit you-“ roman tightened his grip on the bars attached to the wall. the elevator rides were never usually this long. he needed out- he needed to-
you broke free just as the elevator doors opened onto the waystar building lobby. you didn’t bother to look back at roman, still gripping the handlebars in the elevator, as you walked out.
roman blinked, until he let go and rushed after you. there was a chance you’d leave him behind, stranding him like last time.
you could hear the stomping of his feet as he chased after you. his voice was shouting your name, echoing into the parking garage. you picked up speed, hoping you’d be able to outrun him. you reached the suv’s doors and tapped the driver, “step on it, hmm?” you leaned back into the seat just as the driver started the engine. there was a pause, and he pointed to roman, who was waving his hands frantically to stop the driver.
you rolled your eyes, sighing as the driver spoke, “what about mr. roy?” the hesitation was enough time for roman to make it to the car. his hand grabbed the passenger door. you scoffed as he swung himself in, giving you a glare before barking instructions to the driver.
he turned to look at you, sweaty and angry, but he didn’t dare to say anything else.
kendall watched as the headline dragged itself pathetically across the screen. another incident involving roman, you and the police had occurred, and this time the media had caught it.
kendall had left message after message on roman’s cell. but neither him or anyone at waystar had heard from him. siobhan tried your cell, but you weren’t answering either.
tom and greg walked into roman’s office, following a message from shiv to come. “that is-“ he pointed slightly to the tv, swallowing thickly as a camera panned out a shot on the waystar royco building, “horrible.” greg finished for him, moving to sit on the only chair that roman refuses to let anyone sit in.
even you.
he relaxed into it, “do we know if it’s even true? you really think they’d send each other to the hospital?” he looked at tom, who shrugged and looked down at shiv, “you think your brother is a woman beater?”
siobhan couldn’t help but scoff, turning to look up at tom, “are you serious?” tom sputtered, as if he couldn’t find the words to defend himself.
kendall sighed, “they’re not hospitalized. roman isn’t that stupid and she-“ he paused, “it just doesn’t make sense. maybe they’re just staying in today.”
shiv stifled a laugh, “i’m sorry but who are we kidding.” she stood up, “rome is our brother, but he’s a shitty fucking boyfriend. i wouldn’t blame y/n if she decided to finally cash out with roman’s dead body.”
“that was a really horrible thing to say, shiv.” shiv turned to head towards tom, who continued, “but it could be true.”
greg sighed, as if he seemed to have found a solution for this entire situation. he stood up, watching as they all stopped to stare at him. he whipped his phone out and immediately began to dial. there was a smirk on his face that only tom was encouraging.
“hey y/n!” greg knew he would’ve been able to get you on the phone, you were both the outsiders in the roy family’s game, after all.
“ew what the fuck. why is greg the egg calling you?” roman sounded far away, but he was the only one of the phone. there was a bit of back and forth before greg cleared his throat, “may i talk to y/n?”
“why? so you can fuck her?” roman deadpanned across the line and greg immediately blushed a deep red, scoffing in response, “no! no! we- i, am just concerned because neither of you are at the office.”
“we?” there was a bit of muffled talk, before greg heard the phone being passed off, “we saw it. don’t worry about any of it, we’ve talked to logan.”
it was you.
you sounded shaky, but stern. greg didn’t get to say anything before you hung up, leaving no room for more questions.
you threw your phone onto the bed and sighed, sitting down on it.
roman had opted to sit crisscrossed on the carpet. hunched over, a thoughtful look on his face. “are we going to talk about it?” his hands untucked themselves from under his chin, fingers toying with the fibers of the carpet.
you sat with your legs outstretched in front of you, arms crossed on a lounge chair. “are you going to hit me?”
roman blew a breath out, “can you stop with that? im sick of you saying that-“
“no because that’s what you need to do, roman. you need to just smack me or even punch me-“
“why?!” roman’s voice bounced off the walls, squeaky and almost boyish.
“because maybe then i’d finally stop loving you!” the words came out like vomit. just flooded the space between you until you felt it kill all the oxygen in the room. you clawed slightly at the lounge chair as you watched his shoulders tighten.
roman didn’t say anything as he looked up, “what?” there was a genuine surprise in his voice, a shock to your confession.
you bit your lip slightly, sighing deeply before speaking, “i have spent the last five years of my life loving you. it has been a torture, humiliating and degrading. yet-“ you felt your voice crack with emotion, “i find myself loving you more and more with each waking moment. i cannot breathe without you by my side, like all the air dies the minute you walk out the door. i want to love you roman, even if it hurts me. even if i’ll be nothing but a ‘piece of ass’ to you.” you felt a tear slide down your cheek, sniffling slightly.
roman, who had been staring at the carpet leading up to this moment, looked up. “i’m sorry.”
words spoken rarely, but you could feel the warmth behind it.
“and i’m not gonna fucking hit you.” not like he would, he wanted to add, but decided it would best to leave the father-son comparison out for this.
roman stood up, moving to sit down next to you. you felt his hands snake themselves around your waist, fingertips grabbing tightly onto your skin, “i love you, even if it hurts you.” he kissed your temple and for a moment, you had found peace at roman roy’s side.
#roman roy x you#roman roy fluff#roman roy smut#roman roy succession#roman roy angst#roman roy x reader#roman roy#succession x reader#succession fanfic#succession hbo#succession
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last christmas (i gave you my heart).
gif creds @/fightingdragonswithwho
pairing. roman roy x reader
wc. 1.6k
genre. fluff
Spending every holiday under Logan Roy’s roof wasn’t necessarily a problem. But just like any other family gathering, the pot tended to be stirred until have a holly jolly Christmas sounded either like a call for help or the theme song from the Saw franchise. for a change, maybe spending christmas away from his family would do him good. you can only hope he agrees.
tags. NOT beta-ed(?), english isn't my first language // established relationship (fiancee/married, i havent decided yet lol), brief mention of alcohol, allusion to roy family dynamics, roman and reader are the only characters in this one
a/n. idc that its march and the fact im not big on christmas either, this one really fun to write! hope you enjoy
“So,” You test the waters, lathering the bristles of your toothbrush with the bubblegum toothpaste in the process. In tune with the routine you had wordlessly established, you locked eyes with him through the mirror. Not before letting your eyes roam over his relaxed figure of course. Surprisingly intimate, you would describe the way he liked to watch you while you finished your nightly routine. He would look so painfully comfortable, maybe even serene, as he let his body rest against the doorframe as his eyes lidded with perpetual fatigue, took in the mundanity of watching you lather your face with creams and face wash.“I’ve been thinking.”
He hummed in acknowledgement, though it sounded more like a stifled laugh. “That's new, how's that going for you?"
“Funny.” The foam in your mouth was of no help at conveying the faux annoyance, balancing out the deadpan you sported with a dose of conveniently muffled speech. Not intimidating at all, it only caused his grin to grow wider. And contagious as always, you leaned over the sink to spit the toothpaste in an attempt to hide a smile of your own, though the thick layer of adoration in your eyes gave it away.
“I’m just saying,” he raised his hands in mock surrender, finally walking inside to lean against the marble counter right next to you. “I only wanna know how it feels to lose your, you know, thinking virginity after giving no signs of brain activity for how long? Like—“
“You can tell yourself how it feels when you lose it.”
“Oh you want to fuck my brain so bad—“
“I’ve been thinking,” You cut him off with an amused smile, taking him in once more. Big round eyes shone with mischief along a hint of sheepishness as he noticed you looking at him. Really looking at him under the vanity lights with messy hair from running his hands through the strands all day and finally wearing the matching pajamas set you had gotten for him in a pretty navy blue because wearing a matching set made you feel good and you wanted him to feel the same way. Always.
“You've been thinking…” he rolled his eyes as if to hold back another quip now that you had restarted the conversation. The pinkish hue you were so familiar with made a small appearance as you let your fingers brush over his, gently coaxing him to intertwine his hands with yours. Not that he needed much convincing, though.
“We should spend Christmas this year with my family.”
At the beginning of your relationship, you were sure he would’ve pulled his hand out of your grasp. You could see the way he had to swallow down the urge to do so from the pensive furrow of his brows while the side of his brain in charge of his critical thinking tried to convince him that your words weren’t an attack on his family. He was still working on it, the lousy therapy sessions here and there helped a little, but he still found himself opening his mouth to complain.
“I know what you’re gonna say but think about it, Romeo.” Thankfully, you took the steering wheel before he could start. “My family loves you and we haven’t spent Christmas with them in like, ever, actually.”
Which wasn’t his fault, and you made sure to tell him so, leaning closer until your knee touched his and giving him a quick peck on his lips before he could protest.
Spending every holiday under Logan Roy’s roof wasn’t necessarily a problem. It was nice to exist alongside the people that Roman loves, the people he grew up around. Watching him interact with his siblings could be endearing. So much so that sometimes you wished you could record their banter and laughter so he could listen back and for a moment picture that things between them were okay. But just like any other family gathering, the pot tended to be stirred until have a holly jolly Christmas sounded either like a call for help or the theme song from the Saw franchise.
“Every year we celebrate in a different place,” you toyed with the idea in front of his eyes like one would a cat’s toy, using your smile to build momentum to the grand reveal that at this point didn’t even sound grand to you. “last Christmas was Italy and this year we’re doing Greece.”
“Since when do you have a house in Greece?” He asked, toying with your fingers as his gaze locked itself on them. It was a good sign he was asking.
“We don’t,” the sound of your animated chuckle helped to loosen his shoulders. Though it didn’t dissipate his slight confusion, it always felt good to have you close like this. “It’s Kelly’s house— eh, her parents’ but sharing is caring or whatever…”
He let out a chuckle of his own. The sound made all sorts of warmth bloom in your chest, maybe even cute aggression if you felt like being dramatic.
“And after we can spend New Year's just the two of us wherever you want.” He shrugged in a silent response, still pensive, and you couldn’t help but coo at him as if to coax him out of his shell. “It’s gonna be so much fun, they’ve been asking about us and the kids adore you, they’ve been obsessed with Uncle Roro ever since Lizzie’s birthday.”
“As they should be, my lower back never recovered from being used as a human jungle gym.” He rolled his eyes at the memory yet the love was evident from behind the thinly veiled sarcasm. He was a very particular individual but so were most of your siblings-in-law. And sure, the first time he met your family hadn’t gone as he expected, both in a good way and in a bad way, but your mother still asked him to join him for a glass of whiskey whenever they crossed paths with a welcoming smile and your father always hugged him in greeting like he did all his children.
“You’re good with them,” You smiled against his lips as you leaned closer for a kiss, leaving a couple of pecks that eventually made him smile too. “you’ve always been good with kids.”
“Yeah whatever, stop kissing me my breath stinks.”
The way your brothers had instantly included him in their weird boys' night out, which was ruled by the obnoxiously corny motto ‘what happens in boys' night, stays in boy’s night’ that was used as a smoke screen for that one time they decided to go to the spa to never be taken seriously again once they swallowed their own stupidity, left you grinning for a week straight. And let's not start with the picture you had taken during a summer trip to Nice of all the daughters-in-law posing like they were celebrating their high school prom with Roman at the front of the line, it had been all laughter all throughout; the picture came out a little blurry.
It’s all you could think about sometimes when you watched him doing nothing interesting in particular with a lovesick intensity only rivaled by his. How well he fits in your life, with the quips and interjections that kept you company and next to you on your shared bed. With both your slippers sitting neatly side by side and with the unmeasurable love pooling at the bottom of his chest that he had finally allowed himself to unabashedly share after who knows how long.
“Can you pass me your headband? I need to wash my face.”
He insisted yours was better every time you told him he should buy one of his own. Even if he hadn’t tried any other than yours. You only let it pass because he looked cute with his hair pushed back. No other reason at all.
“So,” you cut yourself by giving him a peck on the lips as he got closer to steal some face wash. He had his own on his side of the bathroom but the bottle was pretty much full and yours still ran out quicker than when it was just you. “Greece or no Greece?”
“I got chills, they’re multiplying.” He joked right before rinsing the soap from his face, chuckling at your lack of amusement. “What? You prefer right now there’s nowhere to hide since you pushed my love aside?”
“I prefer you answer my question.”
The eyes of a kicked puppy on full display just put him out of his misery vibes, pleaded in silence as he dragged his feet across the floor until he was standing right in between your legs, his face hiding in the crook of your neck. He fit nicely against your body and instinctively you let your fingers brush along the strands of his hair. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go.”
He groaned in response, his voice muffled against your skin. “It’s not that, I want to, I just— I already RSVP or whatever bullshit to my Dad.”
No one RSVP’ed to Logan Roy. Especially not his children. It wasn’t necessary when the table was already set for all parties involved regardless of conflicting schedules
“That’s okay,” You kiss his hair, resting your cheek against his head and muffling your own voice. The vibrations made him hum. “I can talk to him.”
The disheveled strands tickled your skin as he shook his head. Now that his chin was resting on your chest you noticed how cartoonishly slow he was blinking, his lids heavy the weight of being awake for far too long.
“I’ll talk to him.” He pressed a kiss against the side of your jaw, feeling the unmistakable excitement of your grin, before hiding the yawn that followed. “Tomorrow, I promise.
#roman roy x reader#roman roy x you#roman roy fluff#roman roy#succession fan fiction#roman roy imagine#succession imagine
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How Succession Characters would react to getting you pregnant...
Pairings: Kendall Roy x Reader, Roman Roy x Reader, Tom Wambsgans x Reader, Greg Hirsch x Reader, Lucas Mattson x Reader, Stewy Hosseini x Reader
Author's note: Thank you for this fun request! Here is a little bit of thoughts on how a bunch of the Succession characters would react to finding out their partner (the reader) is pregnant ☺️
Kendall Roy
This man has had the importance of succession literally bred into him. His struggles with infertility and trying to be the kind of father he wishes he could be have taken a toll on poor Kendall, making him feel like he'll never have the family he's always wished for. That starts to ease when the two of you get together, slowly coming around to the idea that maybe he doesn't need anything else as long as he has you. But when your period is late, expect Kendall to notice, always keeping track of your body in the back of his mind in a way he just can't help but obsess over. He daren't say anything, certain that in the next week it will turn out to be nothing, his body once again failing to deliver him what he craves so much.
A few days later when you bring him lunch at the office he's all but pushed that hopeful thought out of his head until you present him a carefully wrapped box, inside of which sit a dozen positive pregnancy tests. He's in complete disbelief at first, eyes welling up and repeatedly asking if you're sure, and more uncomfortably for him, if it's definitely his. Once you've suitably convinced him of both of those facts, you'll get full, smiling, happy Kendall, scooping you into his arms and telling you exactly how 'fucking excited he is' loud enough that by 2pm that day everyone in the Waystar office has heard the news.
While you're pregnant Kendall can't stop telling everyone that the two of you are expecting, overflowing with pride and joy and love for your growing family. He's the kind of person to fly in the best midwife/doula/doctor in the world to make sure everything goes exactly to plan, making sure you don't have to lift a finger for the whole nine months. He'd also be an absolute menace for not being able to keep his hands off you, the way you glow as you start showing driving his little brain insane, wanting more than anything to just put baby after baby inside you.
Finally when the baby comes expect Kendall to be there. Yes he'll have a few wobbles and won't be perfect, the reality of his experience of fatherhood making him doubt he'll do anything good enough for this baby, but every time he sees the two of you, he knows he needs to step up and do whatever it takes for his little family, now that he finally has what he's been dreaming of.
Roman Roy
It's taken a long time for Roman just to get comfortable being intimate with you, a slow but not unpleasant journey that the two of you have been on since he first fell embarrassingly hard for you while working at Waystar. Given the months of longing looks and lingering touches it took to get to your first kiss, you never really thought about needing to use protection with Roman, until one particularly special night he finally wanted to try 'the whole thing' with you, surprised and delighted at how perfect it felt take make love to someone he truly cared for, allowing himself to be vulnerable in every way with you. As if wanting to make up for lost time, that night would lead to a real Honeymoon phase of Roman not being able to keep his hands off you, desperate to feel that incredible connection again and again.
You can hardly feel too surprised as the nurse confirms your suspicion, a follow up appointment made and a heavy piece of news on your shoulders as you ride silently in the town-car back to yours and Roman's home. He's his usual ball of emphatic energy as you step through the door, bounding up to you before stopping in his tracks at the clear weight on your chest. The words spill out before you can overthink it, watching carefully as you watch him process it all, slinking down to the floor and sitting cross-legged in silence as he contemplates. Roman had never planned to have a child, not ever expecting to find someone like you to share his life with, and he didn't exactly have the best relationship with the concept of fatherhood, a chill running down his spine at the thought of Logan ever laying a hand on his kid. Then a realisation began to calm him; that he was nothing like his father. And while he wouldn't be perfect, his immature brain sure to make mistakes along the way, he knew he would always make his child feel safe, something he wished someone had done for him all those years ago. So then he'd smile, and pull you down to the floor with him, and laugh his teary-eyed hyena laugh, and wrap you in his arms, protecting all three of you for the next chapter of your lives.
It's safe to say his family would be extremely surprised by the announcement, particularly Logan, who'd rejoice in a way that made Roman feel even more sure that he'd never be that kind of cruel, manipulative father that only wanted his children for what they could do for him. Throughout the pregnancy Roman would be up and down, jubilant and terrified, proud and ashamed, the whole thing trudging up more than its fair share of childhood trauma. But when it comes down to it, he'll be there to step up, immediately swearing to do whatever it takes to make sure your little one never feels the way he spent his life feeling.
Tom Wambsgans
Despite all the venom and acid that burned him in his first marriage (this one's for you team Tomshiv divorce), Tom is peak fatherhood material. You only have to look at the intensely caring way he talks about Mondale, the bizarre energy he's put into raising Greg, and of course, his absolute undying affections for you, to know this man would coddle a child like no one's business. You wouldn't even be scared to tell him, the news unplanned but certainly not unpleasant, the way this man fucks like a freight train clearly no match for the average condom.
You'd make an event of it, ordering balloons and cake and flowers to your shared duplex, so when he got home to a sea of congratulations there would be no doubt. A midwest man through and through, if you weren't already married he'd buy you a ring the very next day, the floods of happy tears stopping long enough to let him pick a perfect diamond. He'd spend half the week on the phone telling everyone he knows, so excited to grow your little family, and be the kind of man he'd been raised to be. He's definitely type to read an unhelpful number of articles to make sure he's doing everything he can 'to serve you and your growing child during this strenuous time', calling his mother to fly across the states to help out as you get closer to your due date. This man already has a short-list of the best preschools in New York by the time your bundle of joy comes in the world, ready to be a present father and husband, even if it means for once his career has to take a backseat.
Greg Hirsch
You had worked very very hard to make it crystal clear to Greg that whatever happened between the two of you was strictly on a casual basis, not wanting to get drawn into his complex family dynamics, or end up the centre of ATN news story. Despite his clear infatuation he had agreed, following every boundary and rule you set out to the best of his slightly clueless abilities. So when you triple checked the calendar and realised what had happened, you couldn't help but lock yourself in the Waystar women's bathroom and scream enough curses to make Kendall Roy blush. After deciding this was something you wanted, you'd finally let Greg buy you dinner, surprised by the calibre of restaurant he picked for what was really just a first date.
When you tell him the news, and make it clear you don't expect anything from him, you'd be pleasantly surprised by how loudly and excitedly he proclaims "that he loves kids!" earning a few uncomfortable looks from the tables around you. He'd be stressed and feel unprepared for sure, but he wanted more of a relationship with you and this was going to put that on the cards for him, plus he'd always wanted a family of his own so he couldn't wait to tell 'Uncle Tom and Great Grandpa Ewen' the news.
Realistically he'd be quite a useless partner, buying you your favourite sushi without realising you can't have it, and wanting to throw a party in your favourite bar to celebrate, forgetting you can't drink, but the thought would always be there. And if you need anything done, he's ready and waiting, even if he needs the clearest possible instructions and will end up having to call you for more information anyway. No matter how much trouble it gets him in with work/Tom he'd be at every appointment, proud to have a reason to pull himself together and excited to be a grown up, if it means being one by your side. Once you have your baby, he'd 100% bring them into the office, showing them around Waystar and being shocked at anyone implying its not appropriate to bring your baby to work, having Tom back him that it's important for all the Roy family to be there together.
Stewy Hosseini
Coming from the happiest family in the Succession universe, Stewy's often thought about having a family of his own, but his lifestyle of late nights and kissing boys on Molly means it's not something that he's ever really applied himself to pursuing. So when the two of you start dating he takes it seriously; he can tell he could have a real future with you, the type of warm, intelligent, kind person he's always wanted to find and settle down with. It wouldn't be long until you were introduced to his parents, watching over his nieces and nephews together and giving Stewy no choice but to pray you'll be the mother of his children. He'd want to go through the traditional order of things, getting married and building a home together before you started to grow your family, but when a happy night of too much rose in the hot tub on his balcony leads to a positive pregnancy test, he'd be absolutely elated. He'd call in every favour he was owed across the city to get your dream wedding together within a month, dragging you round viewings of townhouses with little gardens he immediately describes as 'perfect for the little one.'
Stewy would still respect your independence though, making his hopes and preferences known, but ultimately letting you call all the shots, just a helping hand and credit card to make whatever you're dreaming of come true. He's less protective than some of the others, but only because he knows you're tough as nails now and always, not wanting you to feels smothered and wrapped in bubble-wrap, still making sweet plans for just the two of you before and after the baby comes. Stewy would be such a happy and excited father, truly just a joy to be around.
Lukas Mattson (warning: darker themes, reader discretion advised)
Even just being seduced by Mattson would feel a little bit unsettling; uncertain of exactly how much of what he said he really meant, and what was all just charm and bravado that seemed to effortlessly ooze out of him. So when he insists that you don't need protection, or says he'll pull out but always does it a moment too late, you don't realise what he's up to until it's too late. You see from the moment Lucas met you, he knew you had to be his, and the easiest way to tie your lives together forever is to get you pregnant.
He'd pretend to be shocked by the news, like he hadn't worked night and day to baby-trap you, asking you sincerely if you want to keep it, and telling you you'd want for absolutely nothing if you just let him look after the two of you. He says it so sweetly, so sincerely, hovering his shaking hand just shy of your stomach and looking down at you with nothing but awestruck affection in his eyes that you can't help but fall for him, this image of devotion exactly what you want for your future. And as you say you want to keep it, and have your family with him, he'll fall to his knees and tear up, his whole life feeling like it lead to this moment, a child to make the best future he can for.
He'll throw himself into his work for a lot of your pregnancy, a new perspective on his work with AI, tinkering with the latest baby tech to make sure you two have everything you could possibly want to help you with this stage of your lives. You'll grow slightly more used to his intensity as he points it in a helpful direction, worshipping the ground you walk on and trying desperately to make everything as good as it can be for your little family.
#writing#fanfiction#one shot#requests#kendall roy headcanon#kendall roy succession#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy#roman roy angst#roman roy fluff#roman roy imagine#roman roy x reader#roman roy#tom wambsgans#tom wambsgans x reader#tom wambsgans headcanons#greg hirsch#greg hirsch x reader#greg hirsch headcanons#mattson x reader#mattson headcanons#stewy succession#stewy hosseini#stewy x reader#stewy hosseini headcanons#succession imagine#succession hbo#succession#succession headcanons#lukas mattson
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“His Assistant”
Summary: Roman accidentally sends a explicit message to Logan thinking it’s you, his assistant. (based off the 03x08 episode!)
Content: f!reader, intimacy, Logan Roy, fear of intimacy (ironic i know), humiliation, manipulation, implied age gap, mention of sexual harassment
Sure, a relationship with your boss isn’t your brightest idea, but you didn't regret it. Keeping your relationship with Roman a secret gave you a rush you couldn’t experience just once. Being his assistant isn’t as grueling as it seemed. Roman didn’t have a very strenuous job.
While following Roman to the conference room, he turned back “Actually, y/n, can you follow me real quick. I think my schedule is off,” he lied. We had to come up with fake scenarios often. Just in case anyone overheard.
You met his eyes and nodded. “Y-yea, whatever you say, boss.” You followed Roman to an empty room, which seemed secluded enough.
You closed the door behind you. Roman wasted no time attacking your neck with sloppy kisses, “Take off your shirt,” he breathed into your neck.
“What?” You slightly pulled away, just enough to meet his eyes. “Rome, we’re already late to this meeting. Your father-” he moved away with an agitated groan. You didn’t want the moment to end either, but you also didn’t want to be yelled at by Logan Roy.
“Yeah, okay. Whatever, yeah,” Roman started toward the door, signaling you to move out of the way. “If I convince them to trust Mattson, I get to fuck the shit out of you later,” he says, letting you walk outside first. You let out a small laugh rolling your eyes, knowing that day won’t come. Roman hasn't explicitly told you about his intimacy issues, but you two of been sneaking around for months, and the most you guys have done is dry-humping.
During the meeting that included 8 of you, Roman somehow convinced Logan to trust Mattson. He knocked on the table to show his excitement off to you, followed by a grin. You smiled back before standing up to get coffee.
Kerry started filtering other executives into the meeting after Logan gave her the clear. Roman's confidence had been elated since Logan decided to notice him. You were happy for him but feared when Logan chose to kick him aside again.
At the coffee cart, you sent Roman a flirty congratulations text, afraid a verbal message would cause someone to overhear. You put your phone in your pocket to pour yourself a cup. You felt Roman glance at you and then put his phone down.
Supposing nothing of it, you returned next to him, “Get a good look?” He whispered to you. The issue was you had no idea what he was talking about, and it showed on your face. Roman noticed his dad checking his phone soon after. He looked at his most recent messages and saw the text sent to his dad, not you.
He met Logan's eyes, which were staring at him intensely. “What happened?” you asked, feeling left in the dark. Roman didn’t respond and sank into his chair, feeling his whole world crumble around him. Logan told everyone he needed five while Shiv rushed after him. Roman remained silent, looking guilty as ever.
Not long after, Logan shouted for Roman down the hall, while Shiv pulled you to that exact secluded location from earlier. You were unaware of what occurred until Shiv tells you Roman sent a dick pic to Logan, mistaking it for you.
Your face turns flushed when she asks if you welcomed the photos or had any prior relationship. You knew admitting to hooking up with your boss could get you terminated or turn you into a cautionary tale, “No, uh, Roman and I’s relationship is strictly professional. He has some quirks, but we all do,” you tried to sell your lie with a half-assed smile. You understood Shiv was attempting to manipulate you and abuse your vulnerability.
The meeting adjourned, and Logan called you into the room with Roman for questioning. In all honesty, no one cared if you two were hooking up. Kerry and Logan were. It was more about the secrecy, and Roman sending a dick pic to his dad. You and Roman refuse to sit next to each other, causing you guys to sit at the opposite end of the desk, Logan at the head across from you two. You feared losing your job, while Roman feared losing his dad’s attention. The whole discussion was a shitshow; Roman defended himself with, “Why have an assistant I can’t fuck?”
At the end of it, before Logan told us to "Fuck off," you had to sign a release stating to report Roman if he continued anymore unsolicited messages. Before going your individual ways outside the Waystar building, Roman turned to you and kissed your head, “I knew I could make them sign off on GoJo,” he said with a smile. Discrediting the 20-minute lecture he just endured. Or the fact you two were supposed to be a secret. Both of your drivers arrived. Before going inside, Roman shouted, “Guess you have to see me tonight then,” with a dopey smile. You smiled back, rolling your eyes at his comment. You both went into your respective cars, knowing later that night, you two weren’t going to have sex.
#roman roy#roman roy x reader#roman roy x you#roman roy fanfic#roman roy fluff#succession fanfic#succession#shiv roy#roman roy drabble#idk if i like this#shiv roy x reader
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