#roman roy fluff

[springtyme]

roman roy and the reader on Halloween just eating candy? Like he’d probably be so against just sitting down and eating a whole bag of candy cause it’s unhealthy (all of the roy sibs are weird about food we know this) but sitting down and eating it with reader makes it all better? Maybe reader feeds it him (cutely) , he feeds her pieces of candy too. cute shit.

𝐀 𝐒��𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ♡

Roman Roy x Reader || Roman playlist || Main masterlist

word count: 888

warnings/tags: Fluff. Food. Implied disordered eating.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎) 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲

The glow of Manhattan flickers outside the giant windows in the otherwise dimly lit living room of Roman’s lavish penthouse apartment, casting cheerful illusions against the darkening sky. 

Roman is lounging beside you, a scrunch of distaste evident on his face as he glances at the colorful wrappers packed with sugary confections sprawled out on the coffee table. He has folded his arms across his chest like a three-year-old who had just been told he couldn’t have his way, with one leg scrunched up beneath him on the plush couch, the other dangling off the side like a deflated balloon.  

“Isn’t this for kids?” Roman grumbles, eyeing the assortment of candy like it’s a personal affront. He leans back against the couch, his perfectly coiffed hair catching the light in a way that’s somehow both striking and slightly ridiculous given the occasion.

“What..? Candy?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you glance over at him. “I’m pretty sure candy is for everyone, Rome.” 

His skeptical expression deepens, lips pursed just enough to form a thin line. You shot him a gentle smile, reaching for a bag of gummy worms. You know how things are with him, you’re just going to be gentle.  

“You don’t have to have any if you don’t want to,” you say soothingly, picking out a colorful gummy from the bag and biting into it, pulling on the chewy sweet till it snaps in half. “I can eat them myself.”

He watches you, eyes narrowed. “Give me that,” he says, sounding faux-demanding, but you can still hear the hint of reluctance in his voice as he uncrosses his arms, reluctantly reaching for the bag of gummy worms. His fingers brush against yours. “I’ll indulge in your childish whims,” he mutters under his breath as he pulls the bag closer, a hint of unsurety flickering in his eyes despite his faux annoyance.

Roman selects a gummy worm, hesitating momentarily before finally popping it into his mouth.

You can’t help but smile softly to yourself as you watch him chew, the initial scrunch of his nose easing as the tangy sweetness dances on his taste buds. He takes his time, chewing for a while before swallowing. You sit in silencer for a few seconds, letting the moment linger in the air. The city hums with life outside, people in costumes on their way to Halloween parties or getting ready for a night on the town, but here inside the penthouse, it’s quiet. 

“How was it?” you ask, breaking the silence with a teasing lilt in your voice, but there is still an overlaying gentleness in your tone.

“It was fine,” he replies, trying to maintain an air of indifference. “But don’t expect me to start collecting candy like some deranged trick-or-treater.”

You chuckle, leaning back against the couch, feeling the plush comfort envelop you. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He leans back too, looking at you with those big eyes of his.

“Wanna try one of these?” you ask, gesturing toward a bag of small chocolates. He looks from you to the bag on the table, staring at it for a moment before reversing his gaze back to you, giving you a small nod.  

You reach forward and take the bag, ripping the plastic open and pick out one of the bite sized chocolate bars inside and unwrap it for him.      

You lean closer into Roman, holding out the piece of chocolate to him. He eyes you for a moment, as if considering the implications of such a gesture.

With a slow exhale, Roman leans forward, almost hesitantly bridging the gap between you both. His breath softly brushes against the tip of your fingers as he, with a deliberate gentleness, bites down around the chocolate in your hand. The warmth of him momentarily lingers on your skin, and the soft scents of his cologne mix with the faint chocolate aroma. 

He takes the bag from you, unwrapping another treat, holding it out for you like you did for him. You lean in, smiling around the treat, feeling a rush of warmth at how effortlessly intimate this is. Roman watches you, a flicker of something softer in his eyes.

The glow of Manhattan is streaming in through the windows, warming the room as he leans back against the couch, both of you now silent, reveling in the fleeting tranquility.

Roman shifts slightly, nudging closer to you. Without a word he leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder. A long break of silence stretching out between you. 

“Are you trying to give me cavities?” he finally asks with mock seriousness.

“Just trying to share,” you respond sweetly.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he mutters.

You smile. “I like you too, Romy,” you tease, and you can practically feel him melting against your shoulder.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he really means it, instead it sounds more like he secretly loves it.

The light of the city twinkles like stars against the night sky, their reflections glistening in a swirl of metallic hues across the glass panels of the penthouse. Roman shifts again, this time tilting his head slightly to steal a glance at you. His features soften, the lines of skepticism now faded completely.

[ichorai]

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!

[dorims]

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. 

[salbei-141]

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.

[senselessviolets]

being roman roy’s personal assistant (and his obsession) would include…

Rating M

WARNINGS:

Language, sexual tension, degradation, power imbalance, Roman being Roman weird.

Author's Notes:

Pretty self-explanatory. No uses of Y/N. Some brief RomanGerri. Very much inspired by @nanabrainrot's fic series with Pervert!Roman because it's divineeee. Highly recommend it!!

Roman never saw himself as the type to have an assistant. In fact, he was the only one of the Roy siblings to not have one. Kendall, of course, had Jess, Shiv had Sarah, and even though Connor never liked to bring it up out of fear of making him seem less earnest and hardworking to his supporters, he too had a “yes man” managing his personal affairs for him. 

It was following the Hungary company retreat that Gerri offered to set Roman up with an assistant. She knew of a trusted agency that would be able to help him narrow down candidates and find a person best suited for his needs. 

That person just so happened to be you. 

Roman absolutely wolf-whistled at the picture attached to your portfolio when thumbing through the candidates he was matched with through the agency. Gerri made him promise not to make any untoward or inappropriate comments to you during your interview for the job. Roman saw it as a ‘woman thing’ but Gerri being legal counsel saw it as a nightmare waiting to happen.

Upon meeting with you and the hiring manager, Roman scoured the internet for any information on you. Even though all of the important need-to-know info could be found on your resume or your fucking LinkedIn profile—that wasn’t enough for him. 

He tore through all of your public social media accounts, saving any particularly flattering images of you (swimsuit pictures, nightclub outings, etc.) and examining them throughout the day.

Suffice it to say, you got the job.

At first, Roman doesn’t know what to make of you. He sits you at a small desk on the opposite side of his own in his office.

Personality and demeanor-wise you’re in line with what he had wanted. Physically, he was already well-acquainted with your curves and the way certain types of clothes clung to your body. 

In the long stretches of silence of you two working in the same room, he imagined briefly what you looked like underneath your clothes. 

At home when it was just him and his right hand, he imagined what it’d be like to tear them off and leave them in tatters on the floor.

The better you get to know each other, the bigger his private album devoted to images of you grows.

Roman starts to pry into your personal life, asking if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend. Then he makes random passes at you throughout the day. Having worked with a wide array of smarmy, gross men in the past—you were hardly phased. Because a part of you sees through the facade. You know he just wants to rile you up—to get a reaction out of you.

You realize after a while that he wants you to be repulsed by him. 

This incites something within you.

Roman starts dragging you to one-on-ones with investors and having you sit in on board meetings, much to the annoyance of many.

Shiv tells you (jokingly) to run before you wind up being chased down the hallways with a chainsaw. 

While waiting together outside of a rather important meeting with many high-level executives, Greg informs you of a rumor that Roman has a dick pic circulating the office. But that in particular—he had meant to send it to you. 

You don’t know how to feel.  

These forced attendances at random meetings turn into becoming his designated armpiece for public events and parties. 

At one of them, Stewy taunts Roman, saying you’re not the only woman he pays to touch him. 

You laugh loudly at this joke which surprises them both. You crack a few of your own at Roman’s expense. Some are based on fiction, the others in fact. The shame floods his cheeks but the way he grips tighter at your waist tells you to keep going. To get meaner. So you do. You get a lot meaner.

Roman’s jaw clenches for a moment. Then his lips part. You convince yourself it's just a buzz from the drinks you’ve just had; that you did not just shit-talk your boss into arousal. 

But the clumsy way Roman adjusts his stance, the subtle outline of something forming at the front of his pants, and how he excuses himself to the bathroom says otherwise.

The text you receive moments later from his number confirms this; “You know what you did, you fucking bitch.”.

It’s your direct reply to that message though that makes his breath hitch; 

“Show me then, you sick fuck.”

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[leviathanspain]

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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.

[spxllcxstxr]

Fair Winds and Following Seas • R.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: That Roman soulmate fic was sooo good 😭😭😭 argfhh biting my pillow rn. May I request a scene rewrite of your choice of them already in an established relationship? They’d have cute bickering and lots of casual physical contact all the time. Maybe theyre on a yacht together like that one episode and theyre just so intertwined all the time that its hard to tell where roman ends and reader starts 😣-- anon

Summary: Roman seems to like casual intimacy, even in front of his family

Warnings: fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), based on 2x10 “this is not for tears,” established relationship, alcohol, ken suicide joke (one line, nbd), roman jokingly calls something 'domestic abuse' it certainly is NOT that, normal Roman shenanigans

Word Count: 1.1k

A.N: guys, I usually write fantasy so this dialogue may just suck ass im SORRY LMAO, lemme know what you think!!! Hope you guys enjoy! Roman is so bbg

•

The Mediterranean sun warms your exposed skin while the sea breeze keeps you from getting uncomfortably hot. The Roy's certainly knew how to take a vacation.

Roman lazily drapes his arm over your shoulders, the small act of casual intimacy in front of his siblings something you still can't really get used to just yet. The family, you learned pretty quickly, was not a clingy one, so Roman's constant need to be touching you in some way in front of them was unexpected.

You sigh happily at his side, ignoring the boring work talk the siblings had already immersed themselves in.

The weather was just too divine for you to focus on anything other than the free vacation and your boyfriend.

Shiv's piercing blue eyes peer curiously over her dark sunglasses. Her gaze causes you to straighten your back and shift ever so slightly away from Roman. You've noticed that her and Tom were never exactly touchy, but then again her and Tom were barely a loving couple.

The harsh scrutiny of her stare doesn't go unnoticed by Roman, who immediately pulls you back closer to him. Your cheeks flush at his blatant display of affection.

"Something the matter, Siobhan?" Roman asks, his voice slightly higher than usual with a British twang to it. His fingers absentmindedly trace odd shapes across your back. He sips at his cocktail, eyebrows raised waiting for her retort.

Shiv’s intense gaze slowly slides over to Kendall. Their older brother offers your group a half-assed shrug.

"Nothing at all, Roman." She offers you both a tight-lipped smile, swirling her white wine in front of her.

Awkwardly you lean back into him as he sarcastically grumbles something under his breath, unconvinced. Roman’s body in tense beside you, but stays firmly pressed next to your own.

Sounds of waves crashing against the yacht and distant conversations almost lure you to sleep though the three sibling’s chatter keeps you just conscious enough that you don’t completely drift off.

You hear Kendall get up from his seat, his joints popping.

"I'm gunna go check on dad," He says, voice low though he knows you're not actually asleep. "I'll catch you guys later."

"Just don't jump off the boat, Ken. We're not turning the ship around just for your old-ass." Roman jokes before yelping at Shiv's slap to the shoulder.

You hide your tiny grin with a fake yawn.

"Very funny, Rome," Ken mutters before leaving the three of you.

It's awkward, just the three of you alone; the tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. Shiv clears her throat and you can only imagine the patronizing look she has on her face. Roman shifts, and most likely flips her off, but otherwise he's silent.

Moments later you hear the thud of expensive yet tacky yachting shoes against the floorboards, which could only mean Tom.

"Shiv, uh," The man stutters, obviously distracted by something. Slowly you open an eye, peering over at the man. "Why don't we go and uh, discuss that thing from before, huh?"

Tom's eyes can barely settle on one thing, he looks between you and Roman before only briefly settling on his wife. His cheeks are a little red, but with a man that pasty, it's sure to be a light sunburn.

"Oh yeah?" She asks, almost seductively, blue eyes twinkling with some hidden secret.

Tom's lips tilt down into a frown, now no longer even looking in your direction. He's jealous, you figure, you've never seen him and Shiv cuddled up like this, at least not comfortably so. Someone is always tense and irritated.

After sparing her husband a glance, you see her eyes narrow and her lips drawing into a tight line.

You offer them a smile while Roman once again gives a rude gesture.

Swiftly, Shiv rises from her seat, empty wine glass in hand. She barely gestures a simple goodbye before walking away with Tom. You watch as she says something to him, which makes him recoil from her.

You could only imagine what that was about, but you figure it was you and Roman.

You press your cheek even harder against Roman's chest, almost like you're trying to burrow your way under his skin. The fresh white linen shirt he's wearing is soft underneath you. His uncalloused fingertips continue to dance across your exposed arm.

He's no longer tense, you notice; his muscles are more relaxed now that his siblings are nowhere to be seen. Logan wasn't around either, which eased the thick and looming tension that usually hung around the family.

Roman chuckles, tangling his feet around yours.

"What's got you all giggly today?" You ask, closing your eyes as you soak in more of the warmth.

"I'm not giggly, thank you very much. Giggling is for school girls and wine drunk single moms."

"Yeah, ok," You snort, smiling.

"You're just all over me like a fucking uh--"

"Koala?"

"Nah, more like one of those bigass fucking boa constrictors, y'know the ones I'm talking about?"

"A boa constrictor?" You gasp, jokingly offended at his words. Shifting from your position you eye your boyfriend. "You asshole!" Grabbing a small pillow from beside you, you hit him square in the chest repeatedly.

You're hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips, pinning him to the couch below him.

"Hey, hey!" He laughs, attempting to grab your wrists. "This is domestic abuse! ABUSE! ABUSE! Greg call the cops, she's beating me!"

Somewhere in the distance you can only faintly hear Greg stutter something, but your laughter is too loud to actually make it out.

Roman finally grabs the decorative pillow out of your hands and flings it somewhere.

His brown hair is messy, strands dangle in front of his eyes, no longer slicked back and proper. The laughter dies down but his bright smile remains, melting your heart.

"You're an absolute prick, Roman Roy, y'know that?" You whisper, lips lingering right over his.

"Oh I know," He smirks, irritatingly handsome like usual, eyes flicking between your own and your lips. "And you fucking love it."

Surging up, his lips connect with yours, traces of coconut and pineapple left on his tongue. The sweetness of rum mingles with the fruity aftertaste.

Humming in satisfaction, you close your eyes and place your hands on either side of his face, leaning into the kiss. Roman's light scruff rubs against your palms.

Eventually you pull back in order to breathe in the salty Mediterranean air. Roman's lips chase after your own, hoping to continue and subsequently never stop again.

"Yeah, I do." You sigh, gazing at his eyes as they turn into a molten shimmering gold hue in the afternoon sun.

•

[scarletttries]

Roman Roy x Age-Gap! Reader Headcanons:

Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Reader

Word Count: 2k (warning: mention of Logany child abuse)

Author’s Note: Oh Roman Roy, you're really making me fall in love with your sad little face and your slightly softening heart this season. Thank you for this request, please enjoy these thoughts about Roman Roy with a younger, but still very much legal adult, reader. Also please fill my inbox with Kendall and Roman requests because I am thinking about little else! 😊

Update! Part two here 😀

- Roman Roy has always felt simultaneously like he's never really grown up, and that he was never allowed to be a child. Growing up as the youngest son of Logan Roy he wasn't allowed the chance to make the silly mistakes of childhood folly. Logan had been through that before and frankly he needed Roman to be a serious adult from the moment he could comprehend his father's disapproving glare. Naturally this was an impossible ask of a small, sensitive boy, and led to blows to back of the head when tears threatened to stain the silk shirt he'd been so uncomfortably forced into for another endless press event where he stood like a prop, just desperate not to get in any more trouble or let his dad down worse than he already had.

- As Roman entered adulthood he began to be left out of all the rooms where serious people met and talked about things he could never quite get right; he's wasn't self-interested enough, he didn't have those killer instincts, he couldn't rid his head of the thoughts of how many people would be affected by the company's every move. As Logan and Kendall started to tire of his quippy comments, relegating him to waiting outside for busy work, he could feel himself struggling to meet the thresholds of adulthood that Ken seemed to have carried with him for as long as Roman could remember. This dichotomy of boy and man left Roman feeling like he was never quite comfortable with his age, unsure what lense to see that number through. And then he met you.

- Getting a job at Waystar may have left you feeling a little morally uncomfortable, but you reminded yourself that ten years experience there and you'd be able to get any job in any industry you like, while also being able to pay for your own place. So you pushed that feeling down each day as you entered that office full of rich old white men. Given you'd actually had to earn your place there, rather than just knowing someone, it wasn't long until your work ethic, intelligence and ingenuity had you climbing the corporate ladder in your department and getting you noticed by some of the much higher-ups. Naturally they tried to just take credit for your work, but when the day came that Logan actually asked for an explanation of a report you'd produced, Frank had no choice but to put you in a room with the big boss face-to-face.

- You'd heard nothing but bad things about Logan Roy and as he stared at you in pure contempt while you answered his questions, wondering why his time was being wasted with this young thing from the bullpen, it took all your resolve to hold your nerve, giving short answers and trying not to give him anything to hold over you. Every so often you'd let your eyes flick over his shoulder to the man standing behind him, ten years older than you but pulling at the sleeves of his shirt like a little kid as he watched you face the interrogation, outwardly seeming far more nervous about the situation than you did. After fifteen minutes of watching you hold your head high and speak so confidently about your work, Roman was staring at you unashamedly in a mix of awe, intrigue and disbelief. Despite the age gap you seemed to have all the facets of a self-assured adult that he felt he'd never quite unlocked, while exuding the joyful exuberance of youth he'd never been allowed. He needed to know more about you, so when Logan shouted at Gerri to 'throw you in a dress and bring to this week's investor mixers' he could feel his heart pounding in his chest at the sheer hope and possibility of the answers you might hold.

- You weren't thrilled to spend your evenings surrounded by colleagues, stood to attention in case anyone needed a question answering, but you didn't hate the full railing of designer evening wear that had been sent to your apartment for the occasion. You found yourself trying to blend into the shadows of a corner, unsure of your place in this room and this crowd, wondering if any of the food on display was actually for eating, or if that would be seen as a massive faux pas. Luckily Roman had been keeping an interested eye on you all evening; who you'd spoken to, what you'd been dressed in, the frankly adorable face you'd pulled when Frank handed you a Whiskey twice your age and you took a very unwilling sip, feigning appreciation before slinking away to stick your tongue out at the burning taste. And finally he built up the nerve to approach you now that you were alone, trying to approach casually by picking up a grape from the ornate platter beside you, only to take a bite, realise it was plastic and having to hand it mortified to a waiter that had watched the whole thing from your side. He could feel the blood burning in his cheeks as he watched you try and stifle a laugh, both mortified that you already knew he was a fool and pleased that he'd been able to bring a smile to your face this evening.

"Yeah yeah fuck you." He laughed as he stopped just in front of you, all the words he'd planned to share failing him now that he was close enough to see the beauty in your sincere smile as you shook your head,

"Really I should thank you, now I'm one step closer to figuring out what's actually edible here." You replied with a warmth that almost made Roman recoil, so used to the icy chill he usually received from those around him.

"Well certainly not that whiskey." He nodded to the short crystal glass you'd been trying to put down since Frank handed it to you, tone sarcastic but without the cutting edge he was usually one to deliver. "Why is that the one thing these old fucks actually like to be their own age?" As you laughed again Roman felt a little victorious, he had set himself a pretty low bar but he was confident he was going to be the highlight of your evening.

- As you spent the next week being dragged to different events, you'd always find Roman slinking to your side before the night was through, as if you'd always been old friends, just counting down the hours of everyone else's company. You'd counter his one-liners and then ask him where he'd rather be on a Friday night and make him realise he didn't really know any other kind of night. So when you'd list off your weekend plans, and hobbies and interests, and tell him stories about your friends that had his hyena laugh echoing across the otherwise solemn room, he'd start to realise just how much he was missing out on, and how much he wanted to explore that with you as his guide.

- It stopped being enough, just finding you on odd evenings. Roman would start finding your desk at Waystar, pretending to just be wandering through a junior office coincidentally. He'd glance at his wrist, ignoring the fact he'd forgotten to put on a watch this morning, and comment that as 'technically kind of your boss' he needed to make sure his best employees were actually taking a lunch break, and also were you hungry? Sometimes during the day he'd just melt onto the floor beside your desk, chatting about nothing as you tried your best to type and pay him the attention he so desperately craved. He'd start having all of his meetings in the rooms on your floor so he could wave at you as he walked past the huge glass windows keeping your team contained, an apt metaphor for the walls up inside him he was worried you'd never cross.

- Poor insecure Roman, he'd really try and force himself to ask you out, but ultimately he'd be so afraid of the potential backlash of rejection, that it would be up to you to finally ask if he wanted to grab a drink after work, one Friday when he'd been particularly clingy. You'd take him to a fun, casual bar and watch his eye's light up at people playing darts or ordering fried food and generally the nice, relaxed atmosphere where he didn't feel he had to be the smartest person in the room. Occasionally a friend of yours would walk in a wave and ask how you were doing, and you'd introduce Roman as your friend with no shame or regret and he'd say something funny and get the same rush of pride at making you laugh that he did the first time, and he'd feel like maybe the more time he spent getting to know you, the better he could see himself, still young at heart but not the kid he once was. His lost childhood and misspent youth given a second chance as you offered to see him again next weekend.

- Once you open the affectionate floodgates Roman would be the clingiest koala you can imagine. He'd rarely be as direct as holding your hand, especially not in public, conscious of looking just like his father with a younger woman on his arm. But in the privacy of your little apartment, the one Roman fell in love with the moment he saw it, he'd take a slightly threadbare throw and toss it over the both of you as he all but crumbled into your lap when he wanted to talk about something he thought would make you run. Opening up about his father's wrath and his warped view of himself, glancing up periodically to check you hadn't ran away and left him behind, finding softness in your eyes instead of disappointment and sinking even more deeply into you.

- Roman would think you are an absolute fucking genius for everything you've done for yourself. Worked hard to be the best at your job? Genius. Manage your own bills and do your own laundry? Genius. Carry a water bottle around and make him drink some when he has a headache and somehow he feels better than he has in years? Genius.

- Roman would follow you to hell and back, but you'll have to forcibly remove him from your apartment when you want to go outside. He's never been somewhere that actually felt like home, every soft furnishing and mismatched bowl making him want to haunt your halls forever. If you ever make him a home cooked meal, he'll act like it's not a big deal, but honestly he's crying inside that anyone would go through the effort for him, and that he was the person they chose to be around. Cut to him going thrifting with you to buy five new dishes for you to cook in next time, plus anything else you like.

- Occasionally you'll successfully get him outside for a hike, or a walk, or even a day at a museum or arcade; and Roman will go full toddler on you. Pointing at everything excitedly, running around and shrieking, making sure he was your undivided attention and dragging you by the hand to look at everything. By the time you're home you're ready to collapse, only to notice Roman surreptitiously placing a little souvenir somewhere on your shelf, sneakily bought from a gift shop while you were in the bathroom, before pretending he has no idea how it got there.

- Roman is so enraptured by the incredible, rounded human-being that you are, that eventually some of your self-belief would start to rub off on him, making him feel more sure of himself than he ever has before. Thinking less about the approval of others (except you, he still desperately wants that), feeling confident in his ideas, and no longer feeling like he's stuck in Peter Pan mode - despite falling for someone ten years his junior, Roman would finally feel like he was becoming the man he was always supposed to be, thanks to you.

Let me know if you want a part two of this!

[motions1ckness]

“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.”

[chokepoet]

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. ♡˚ ��� ༘ ｡ ˚ ⋆

[bowieandqueen11]

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.’

[springtyme]

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

Chapter 2 I Am The Greatest Motherfucker That You’re Ever Gonna Meet

More chapters to come

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part six.

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 13.8k

themes ; angst, fluff, drama, slowburn, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, major character death, heavy angsty shit, sexual jokes and general foul language, business talk, roman is so in love, connor gets a bit of spotlight for this chapter </3

a/n ; sorry i'm taking so so so long w this series! uni keeps getting in the way of my writing HAHA but i hope you guys enjoy :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Bidding wars had never really been fun for you. It was always emails upon emails, calls after calls, Logan yelling, Gerri scrambling, negotiations, bargains, deals—it was all too much.

But this… even you had to admit, this was fun. 

Maybe because it was the first time you were working against Logan and not for him. And being around the Roy siblings reminded you of your childhood—a time where the four of you got along for the most part, even with the bloody noses and scraped knees and the yankings of hair.

Buying Pierce had been something you were starkly against while you were working in Waystar, but with this new thing that the Roy siblings were crafting, you had complete faith that Shiv, Kendall—hell, even Roman, would keep the news station’s values in check.

And, though you weren’t entirely proud of it, there was a thrill, a rush of adrenaline, when the four of you raised your bidding price to a healthy ten billion as a closing offer, knowing there was no way Logan could ever consider outbidding that.

Nan Pierce accepted with little pushback, much to Logan’s fury.

Your godfather yelled at the four of you through the phone later that day, but there was no fear sitting within your stomach, like there usually was when he got angry. No, you were laughing. Kendall and Shiv and Roman—they were stifling their own smiles down at the screen, too.

That night, you stood on your balcony, a lit cigarette loosely balanced between your fingers. You weren’t at all a smoker—in fact, you hadn’t had one ever since you joined Waystar. It was an unprofessional look, in a sense. Not something you wanted to be associated with. 

The goddaughter that smelled of cheap cigarettes. Wasn’t that an unattractive thought?

But you didn’t have to worry about that anymore, did you? Honestly, you weren’t quite sure yourself. You’d just assumed you were no longer part of the company, but knowing Logan…

He always had something up his sleeve. Maybe he’d wait until the siblings lowered their guards to snipe you in the back of the head. Or lure you back with meaty bait. 

You took a short drag, faint grey wisps falling past your lips as you breathed out. 

“You smoking now? Doing a little smokey smokes?” came Roman’s voice from behind you, making you turn your head with a slight grin. “Since when?”

“First one since I was a little baby teenager, I think,” you replied. Roman leaned onto the balcony railing beside you, shoulder pressing flush against yours. “They taste disgusting. Here—”

You took a drag—a longer one, this time—leaned forward until your lips were just a whisker away from his, and blew the smoke into him. He inhaled deep before jerking forward to kiss you, nose nudging yours in his fervor.

“Yeah. Fucking disgusting,” he mumbled against your lips, as if wanting to propel you into something more than just kisses. 

Your eyes lit up with amusement, but you pulled away, leaving a lingering kiss on the side of Roman’s nose. The cigarette wasn’t at all used up, but you put it out on a small ashtray you had taken with you. 

“I just wanted to try,” you said. “Was wondering if I’d like it after all this time, now that I have the freedom to.”

There was a curious glint to Roman’s molten eyes. “And do you?”

“Nah. Like I said—they taste disgusting.”

“Some people like disgusting,” he off-handedly said, and you shot him a pointed look.

A breezy laugh, lost to the wind. “Yeah. I might know someone.”

“You’re a goody two-shoes, you know that?” he commented snidely, but his eyes were far too soft for his words to strike harsh. “But it’s good. We need someone like that. The company, I mean.”

“I know,” you whispered back. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Yeah,” Roman said, his hand lacing with yours. He began tugging you back inside. “Me too.”

Connor wanted the four of you to come to his wedding rehearsal at a fancy restaurant downtown—he texted you multiple different addresses, each text telling you to disregard the last one. Then, he called you (called Shiv first, but she was on the phone, passive-aggressively bickering with Tom), and told you exactly where he was. Apparently Willa wasn’t very happy with the venues they’d booked. He sounded sad—it was always easy to tell when he was sad.

And so the four of you set off for him, though not without Roman’s constant complaints. Spending some quality time with their eldest brother was the last thing the Roy siblings wanted to do—they had far more pressing matters at hand. 

Sandi and Stewy, for one. They wanted to veto the acquisition for more dollars squeezed from Matsson’s hand. Roman was starkly against the idea, not wanting to blow more bullets into his father. Shiv and Kendall were far more willing to listen, though Kendall eventually backed down. It was appealing, you had to admit, especially because you hated Matsson’s guts, but you wanted to put business aside for the moment. Spend some time with Connor—after all, he was going to get married soon. If that ever ended up happening, that is.

Once inside the restaurant’s halls, you caught sight of Willa hurrying down the wide staircase by the entrance, looking a bit frazzled. 

“Oh, hi!” she said, slightly breathless. “So you’re here now, huh?”

“Hi, Willa,” you greeted, embracing her with a loose hug before stepping back. “Are you… going somewhere?”

“You standing up my big bro?” Roman quipped from right behind you. He was joking, but Willa only frowned. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

There was a nervous laugh from both parties.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah, I’m just—I’m having a little drink. Away.” 

Both you and Roman spared each other confused glances.

“Is the dinner rehearsal thing over? He still up there?” Roman asked.

The blonde fiddled with her phone, nearly dropping it. “Oh, uh, the rehearsal isn’t—it’s not done, no.”

“You’re leaving your own wedding rehearsal?” you gently questioned.

She smiled, though it came off only sad and tired. “I think they can manage. I’m not vital from here.”

Roman squinted at her. “Yeah, well… I mean, normally the bride is generally considered—correct me if I’m wrong—I think the bride is pretty vital in a wedding. Don’t you think?” 

“Well! Yeah, but… I should go, though. Have a think about it all. I’m in a bit of a fuzz.” She laughed again, though it looked like she wanted to cry. 

Nodding, you said, “Take care of yourself, Willa. Let us know if you need anything.”

She pursed her lips, eyes soft with appreciation. The two of you had never been quite close, but there was a mutual understanding between you. To be the pedestals of Roy men, the unnamed crutch, the woman on the arm. 

With that, she hurried away. 

“Fairy tale wedding, huh?” Shiv said, eyebrows raised. “Should we even go up? Seems like the rehearsal is over.”

“She said it wasn’t,” you replied, shrugging. “We should go see Con.”

Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, Shiv, we really should. Why? You got something better to do than see your own brother before his wedding?”

“No, it’s just—we’ve got quite a lot to discuss, that’s all.”

It was Kendall’s turn to query, “What? Sandi and Stewy? They’re baiting us. Just let it go, Shiv.”

“I think they could really help us! We overpromised on Pierce!” she hotly defended.

“It’s a mind game,” Roman agreed with Kendall. “Just—fuck ‘em, okay?”

The redhead looked at you, but you shook your head. “Let’s just go see Connor, okay? We can hash it out after making sure he hasn’t got a gun barrel in his mouth.”

“Sure. Fine,” Shiv said, though it didn’t seem all that fine to her, judging from her pinched expression.

The four of you traipsed up the stairs, spotting Connor instantly—alone, surrounded by near-untouched platters of expensive food.

“Found him,” Roman sarcastically commented, pointing a finger at his oldest brother, who cracked a fond smile.

“Finally,” Connor said. “Took you guys long enough.”

Roman gave him an embrace from the side, saying, “Hey, bro. Hugsy.”

To the other side, Kendall patted his shoulder, another hand thumping on his chest. Shiv only barely leaned down to hug him, telling him, “Dad screwed us.”

“Yeah,” the eldest said. “I heard. But look at you guys—the Rebel Alliance.”

You were last to give Connor a hug, squeezing him tight, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “How’s the rehearsal been?”

A non-committal noise slipped past his lips. “Been good. It’s been okay.”

Roman made a strange, wincing sound, sucking air through his teeth. “Sure. Yeah, I believe you.”

Keen to change the subject, Connor surveyed his siblings—and you—with narrowed eyes. “So this is how it is, huh? Battle royale. Me and Dad on one side, you guys on the other?”

Strange, you hadn’t quite recalled Connor being so in with his father’s business plans. And… the fact that Logan hadn’t shown up to the wedding rehearsal at all.

“You okay, man?” Roman queried, genuine concern slipping over his features. He was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. “We bumped into Willa on the way in. She seemed all…” He drew up his hands to his face and shook his fingers about.

Pointedly, Connor dropped his gaze down to the table. Untouched food left and right.  “Yeah. It’s alright. I think it’s fine.”

“You sure, Con?” you asked, slipping into the seat beside him, Roman on your other side. 

“Yeah, well, I guess she just—she stood up to do her speech, and then she froze. Said that she couldn’t do it.” There was a laugh, dry and unpleasant and somber. “Then she went to the bathroom for forty minutes with her so-called friends.”

Roman wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes at nothing in particular. “Oh, no, no, that’s—that’s totally fine. Don’t you worry about that. Just toss her another ten grand—or a snowmobile. Teeth-whitening vouchers.”

Unhappy with the meaning behind his brother’s words, Connor pushed himself away from the table, heading off to speak to Willa’s mom. 

Tossing a glare in Roman’s direction, you sighed out, “Was that really necessary?”

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slumping into the chair across from you, Kendall huffed out, “This is so fucking weird.”

“Do we regroup at my place?” Shiv asked, still standing, impatient to leave even though they’d just gotten there.

Tilting his head, Roman incredulously said, “Shiv. Come on. He’s… he’s looking a little rough. Don’t you think?”

“Well, sure. I’m sorry that Dad fucked us and I’m sorry that we’re late. But we do need to decide fast.” 

“The Sandi and Stewy deal?” you queried.

Shiv let out a frustrated exhale. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think we’re already decided, no?” Kendall said, lifting a shoulder in half a shrug. Roman nodded in agreement.

“Are we, though? They made some pretty compelling arguments.” Shiv tapped her foot against the hardwood floors impatiently.

Glancing over at Connor, who was trying his best to console Willa’s mother, you bobbed your head, hesitant. “It could potentially ruin Matsson. The deal. I’d like to see it.”

Groaning a little too loudly, Roman said, “Sandy’s just a greedy little bitch. She’s got her hand up the ass of the carcass of her dad, and Stewy’s just coming along for the ride. Can we not do this right now? It’s a fucking—it’s a packet of horseshit.”

Trying her best to stay calm, Shiv perched herself on the edge of the seat next to Kendall. “Okay. And what if I want to talk it through? This would help us.”

Kendall arched a brow. “I think we should just rise above it.”

“Yeah, okay, but maybe Dad is not on it like he used to be—and maybe he’s underplayed his hand, and the board are all just hand-fucking-picked Japanese plastic cats just waving it through,” Shiv argued.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” you added, trying your best to sway Roman by nudging him gently. He merely rolled his eyes and prodded you back, but said nothing more.

It was then that Connor came hurrying back, carding a hand through his hair. He tiredly sank back down into his seat. “No luck. Still incommunicado. I just really hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is,” you told him, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. “She just needs space, is all.”

“Yeah.” As if he’d flipped a switch, Connor straightened and plastered on a smile. “So, what do you guys say? A little bit of karaoke?”

All three siblings grimaced. 

“Or would it be possible,” Roman began, scratching at his jaw, “to do anything other than that, in the entire universe?”

“I think karaoke sounds nice,” you offered. Honestly, you weren’t too keen on doing karaoke when your mind was abuzz with a million other things at the moment, but it was Connor, and he seemed so down about Willa at his own wedding rehearsal, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. It was like kicking at an already-wounded puppy.

Connor grinned. “Nice! One in the bag. Come on, you guys. Don’t leave us hanging.”

Shiv looked near ready to bash her head against the table. Kendall was glancing down at his phone—texting someone.

Roman rolled his eyes and groaned again, even louder than before. “Ugh. Fine! We can drink, though, right? I’m not listening to you sing sober.”

Clearing her throat, Shiv said, “Well, I just, we kind of have—other engagements right now—”

“Oh, sure. Everybody’s busy,” Connor crooned. Though, if you looked close enough, you’d see the unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Why didn’t his baby sister want to spend time with him?

“Come on,” Kendall said with an urgent hand slanting over Shiv’s shoulder, phone gone for now. “Let’s give him a drink.”

Clapping his hands, Connor stood up again. “Great! But—not any of your stupid places. Somewhere fun and real and—away from all the fancy dance. A real bar with, uh, with chicks, and guys who work with their hands in grease—sweat dripping down their backs and blood all over their hair.”

“I don’t like these guys. They sound like a medical experiment gone wrong,” Roman piped up, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“Sounds hot,” you said with a genuine laugh. “Let’s go.”

The bar itself was atmospherically ambient, the lights warm and unharsh, the chatter light and friendly, the television playing a football match at a soft volume. You smiled—it’d been a while since you stepped foot into an actual bar full of people who weren’t aristocratic assholes.

Normal people doing normal things. What was that like?

Roman, on the other hand, looked particularly uncomfortable, shoulders stiff and expression taut. He was only here for his big brother, but his saint-like kindness only wore so thin.

Kendall ordered drinks for the lot of you—whiskey on the rocks for himself, a sealed soda for Shiv since she didn’t trust anything from the bar’s “tainted” nozzles, a fancy beer for Connor, a vodka tonic for Roman, and a strawberry margarita for you. He snorted when you asked for it, rolling his eyes to the side. 

“You and your strawberries,” Kendall said, before heading off to call the bartender. You weren’t quite sure if his expression was fond or derisive. Perhaps both.

You sat beside Connor, peering over his shoulder, where he was staring at the screen with heavily knitted brows.

“Is that—is that Willa?” you asked, eyes widening upon seeing him zoomed onto a map with a tiny blue dot. “Are you tracking her?”

“Jesus, Con,” said Roman, laughing his high-pitched laugh. “That’s low, even for you.”

“What? I have her location shared,” the older brother said, earning quizzical looks from the three of you. “It’s a factory setting.”

Shiv made a noise of amusement. “It’s not.”

“Well…” Connor’s eyes darted back down to his screen, zooming in impossibly closer. “I’m reassured she’s definitely not on her way to Cuba.”

From his other side, Kendall appeared, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Well, her phone isn’t.”

Connor decided to ignore the comment. “She stopped moving, so… I guess she found a spot she likes.”

“Sure!” crooned Roman. “On another man’s dick.”

The rest of you sighed, and you shook your head. 

“On a much bigger, nicer, harder, younger dick, is all I’m saying,” Roman reassured his eldest brother, patting his shoulders.

“Can we not?” Connor softly said, though he was smiling down at Rome. Even though his words hurt, just the fact that he was there for him cheered him up just a little bit. “Okay? I’m feeling—I’m having certain anxieties, alright? I want to have a good time!”

Once Roman muttered a quick apology, you bumped him off to the side so you can press up next to Connor again, staring down at the blue dot, still unmoving. “I’m sure she just needs a breather. It’s a big deal, y’know. Marriage.”

“I know,” said Con, sucking in a deep breath. There was a profound sort of loneliness to his eyes. “I just thought—I thought it was enough. All of it. It was enough for her.”

“It will be,” you said, nudging him. “Eventually. Just give her time.”

The drinks came then, and you hummed contentedly after taking your first sip. “Fuck. Why don’t they ever have shit like this at the fancy events we go to?”

“Because it’s diabetes in a cup,” Roman replied, but he plucked the glass from your fingers to snag a sip for himself. “It’s literal sugar water. Barely any alcohol in here.”

“Well, I’m not looking to get wasted,” you said, before snatching it back, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “You drank so much!”

“Nuh-uh, there was barely anything in there to begin with!”

“Roman, it was filled to the brim two seconds ago, what are you talking about?”

Before the two of you could divulge into a round of childish bickering, Connor abruptly straightened in his seat. “Her dot is at an aquarium supply retailer. That doesn’t make sense—is that a drug thing?”

Kendall cleared his throat. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You sure?”

Roman snickered. “It is. It’s a drug thing.”

“Maybe she’s getting a pet fish,” you unhelpfully supplied. “A little pre-wedding gift for the two of you?”

Frowning, Connor said, “Now she’s at a dry cleaner’s.”

“Probably getting her panties cleaned from the new dick’s cum,” quipped Roman. The absurdity of the statement made you laugh unexpectedly, but you quickly quietened when Connor stared at the two of you in horror. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, as if he were a parent scolding a naughty toddler. 

“I’m not saying it’s your cum! Your cum, I’m sure, is very washable.” Roman droned on to an incredulous Connor some more, but your attention was drawn to Kendall, whose phone began to ring, and he quietly excused himself from the bar to take the call, face twisted into unmistakeable dread. You briefly wondered who he looked so anxious to talk to, but the thought was quick to banish from your mind entirely when Connor prodded Roman in the shoulder and said your name.

“Okay, that’s enough from you. Y/N, can you tell him to stop? Tell him to stop.”

“Stop it, Roman. Don’t talk about your brother’s cum, you weirdo.”

Rubbing his palms together, Roman shrugged the matter away entirely. “I’m starving. Anything to eat in this shit shack, or what?”

By the time Kendall came back, the rest of you were crowded into a small booth with a dingy little light hanging a little too low over the table. There was a platter of cheesy nachos in the center, which Shiv eyed with distaste. Roman was still looking over the menus, sarcastically wondering aloud from which creature they’d clipped the wings off of.

“Who were you talking to, Ken?” you asked. “It wasn’t Frank again, was it?” 

Kendall’s eyes darted from your face down to the floor. “Uh… no. No, it was—it was Stewy.” 

Something about his demeanor screamed that he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but you kept quiet, watching him with just barely narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, great. What the fuck does he want now?” Roman hissed, peering over the crinkled lamination of the menu he was holding. 

Kendall leaned forward slightly, regarding Shiv with a pointed stare. “Actually, guys, can I… can I show you something? On the comparables. It’s actually pretty fucking intriguing.” 

Your eyebrows rose a fraction. Just a few moments ago, Kendall wasn’t at all interested in Sandi and Stewy’s pitching. What changed his mind?

Nodding in satisfaction, Shiv added, “Yeah, see? It makes you think. Maybe Dad isn’t on it like he used to be. You know, he’s being pushed around by Matsson—hell, even by Kerry. Giving shows to his girlfriend? That’s just—it’s an embarrassment!”

Loudly, Connor exclaimed, “Fuck, she’s in the East River now! She’s in the—oh. Wait, no, she’s just on the bridge.” You popped a nacho in your mouth and glanced over at Connor, who was squinting down at his phone.

“Looks like she’s going on a little trip,” you hummed. “She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay, not to be dicks, Con, but is it okay if we do a little breakout chat, just the four of us? We won’t be long, like—two minutes max,” Shiv said, expression serious and unyielding.

Rolling his eyes, Roman gestured to his oldest brother. “Hey, just—fuck it. Why don’t we fold Con in?” 

“Well, he’s not on the board, so—”

“Yeah, but he has a share. If the deal falls, he loses his payout.”

An incredulous frown pulled at his lips. “Excuse me?” Connor said.

“Oh, okay, so Shiv wants to get us mixed up in some drug deal that will fuck the vote tomorrow,” Roman told him, pursing his lips in an exaggerated fashion.

Holding her hands out, Shiv shook her head. “Uh, no. All we’re aiming for is a small delay. We all want the deal to go through.”

“Right,” you said with an amused snort. “Sure.”

“I, uh… I think I agree,” said Kendall.

Roman’s eyes widened. “Oh, what the fuck? Seriously?”

 “It’s just—looking at the numbers… it’s compelling.”

With a grand scoff, Roman shook his head. “It’s compelling? Wow. You’d find a bag of peanuts more compelling, Kendall.”

You placed a hand over Roman’s jolting knee. “Rome, why don’t we just hear them out?” His eyes met yours, hesitant and conflicted. “And think—wouldn’t it be fun? Fucking Matsson in the ass?”

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, you freak,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“So you guys are just gonna force Dad to grovel?” Connor asked, mouth parted in surprise. “Oh, man. How long will a renegotiation take?”

Shiv’s lips twisted downwards, though it was more of a smile than a frown. “It’s a play. More money is more money, and that’s all there is to it.”

It was then that Roman’s phone, facing upwards on the chipped table, vibrated thrice. The screen lit up with a text notification. 

Dad.

All the siblings had seen it, and Shiv rushed to angle the phone towards her. Roman slapped her hand away, yanking his phone towards his chest. Hiding it.

“What the fuck?” Shiv asked, wary. “The fuck is Dad messaging you for?”

Roman stood frozen, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. “Uh, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him? Stupid question, Shivvy.”

Kendall stared at his younger brother blankly. “You’re not gonna read it?”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah, I’ll—I’ll read the damn thing. Sure.” A swipe of his phone, a kink to his brows. “It’s just a check-in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shiv said, skeptical. “A check-in? Oh, yeah. Classic Dad. He just loves to check in on us, see how we’re doing.” 

Backing down, Roman fessed up, “Okay, fine, I sent him a text on his birthday. Just saying, you know, happy birthday, sorry we missed it—”

“I’m sorry, wait a minute!” Shiv exclaimed. “You texted him first?”

Roman frowned. “It was his birthday, yeah.”

“We said no contact until he apologizes!” she angrily pointed out.

“Okay, so then never?” Roman shot back, scowling.

With a tilt of your head, you said, “It was just a simple happy birthday, right? That’s harmless. Right, Roman?” You pressed your foot over his, enough so he could feel the pressure, but not enough to hurt him.

“Yeah. That was it.”

“Nuh-uh. I want to see your phone,” said the red-head. 

A flicker of panic flashed across Roman’s eyes. “Oh, really? Show me yours, then! World’s biggest WhatsApp group of people sharing pictures of your snatch. No, thank you. Fuck off, fuck you.”

“Roman, come on,” Kendall said. “We have to trust each other.”

Memories of Kendall forcefully taking Roman’s phone from you in Hungary briefly crossed your mind. You pursed your lips. He’d been hiding things from you then, who was to say he wasn’t hiding things from you now?

Relenting, Roman tossed his phone onto the table, almost hitting the platter of nachos. He was growing angrier by the second, frustrated by his siblings' shoes pressing against his spine. “Fine, take a good look. I don’t give a shit. It’s just dick pics, anyway. He’s got a real taste for ‘em now.”

You leaned over to read along with Shiv and Kendall. It looked fine to you—since it was just a simple birthday wish, but they seemed much more harsh in their critique.

“This is more than one text, Roman.” There was a crease between Shiv’s brows.

“Okay. What is it? Two, three?”

Kendall rubbed the faint stubble over his jaw. “It’s a bit warm.”

“Warm? Why, what did I say?”

“Take care.”

Scoffing, Roman’s eyes rolled up to the dingy, low-hanging light. “What was I supposed to say? Happy birthday, hope you fall down a flight of stairs, shithead!”

“I feel a little bit weird about this betrayal, if I’m being honest,” Shiv said in a steely tone. 

“Betrayal?” Roman parroted, almost offensively. “The betrayal of happy birthday, Dad. Take care!” 

“You know what?” Kendall chimed in. “I’m feeling a bit betrayed, too.”

Upset, Roman just about slammed his phone back down on the tabletop. “Wow. Great. Fucking family guilt-trip fest.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “It’s not illegal to say happy birthday, guys. Relax, okay?”

Connor nodded. “It’s hard. It’s been hard on everybody.”

The five of you sat in silence for a bit longer. Has it been hard? Or did it just feel like it because all of you had been so accustomed to getting everything handed over on a silver platter? 

Finally, Shiv swallowed heavily and said, “You know that he advised Tom on the divorce? Gave him a Dad trick—went and spoke to every pit bull in Manhattan and tied them up. I got Mommed.”

You frowned. So much had happened in the past few months, you’d sort of even forgotten Shiv and Tom were heading for divorce. “Tom did that? Jeez… I’m sorry, Shiv.”

Roman blew out a breath, mildly relieved that the heat was taken off of him for a moment. “I mean, there’s probably one more horrible motherfucker lawyer around somewhere, but, uhm… that sucks. I’m sorry.”

Shiv refused to meet either of your gazes. She didn’t want to be reduced to… Tom’s ex-wife. A shadow of her mother. 

“Guys, I just feel like we need to stick together,” Kendall said, firm. We should push back, and we should all be on board. We squeeze them.”

Equally level, Roman placed his hands on the table. “Okay, but, we want to do Pierce, right? We want an out?”

“Yes. But just with a bit more money,” Kendall agreed. 

“Yeah, that’s the thing—I don’t think Matsson will go up in price,” Roman argued. “He won’t! I know this, because I’ve spoken to him. I really think he might walk.”

 Good, you wanted to say, but you bit down on your tongue.

Both Shiv and Kendall began poking fun at him for not calling Matsson’s bluff.

Exasperated, Roman rubbed his knuckles along his hairline. “Okay, it just sounded like he meant it.” He didn’t look happy with the prospect of blocking the deal. He wanted to be a traitor to his Dad without being a traitor. To have his cake and eat it, too.

Shiv and Roman fell into another argument about whether or not Roman cared over conflict—that he was scared of his own Dad and wanted to back down like a coward.

Quelling his riled-up siblings, Kendall motioned for them to quiet down. “Honestly, though, guys. I think going with Sandi and Stewy is the best thing for us to do. As a team.”

Shiv nodded in agreement. “It’s a play. Buys us a couple weeks and more money.”

“He’ll get it,” Kendall said, trying to sway Rome. “It’s what Dad would do in his prime.”

And was that the goal? To try and imitate the beast to scare him off? A moth with false eyes to ward away predators?

Roman squinted at nothing in particular. Then, he angled his face to look at you. You hadn’t at all realized that your features were immobilized in uncertainty. 

“What?” Roman asked, knee knocking against yours.

“Your Dad’s going to hate us if we pull this.”

Roman laughed, high and nervous. The idea made him nauseous. “Seems like he already does.”

“No, he… he loves you. All of you. But this is… he’ll hate that he loves you, sure, that’s always been the case. But this time… he’ll hate you if you’re the reason he can’t win.”

Something sick twisted within Roman’s gut. He seemed to go all pale and wide-eyed. 

“It’s just a play, though,” Shiv said. 

“Just a play,” Roman echoed, sounding unsure. “It isn’t real?”

Kendall nodded. Shiv, too.

“Fine. Yeah, fuck it. I’m in.” Roman caved, and the two smiled at him. You squeezed his knee. 

With a sharp exhale, Connor huffed, “God damn it. God fucking damn it! You ruined it. You ruined it all.”

Roman apologized, but it seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Kendall tried to calm him down by asking his brother what he wanted to do. After all… it was supposed to be his big night before the big day.

“I wanted to get married tomorrow,” he said, cross. “I wanted to spend tonight with my family and tomorrow with Dad. I wanted to get my fucking money out. But you guys fucked it!”

Feeling mildly guilty, your other hand came up to rub Connor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, really. You’re an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. What can we do to make you feel better, Con?”

Several moments passed by in silence as Connor thought about it. What did he want? A giant bowl of ice cream so large you couldn’t see around it? A perfectly-tailored suit from the most expensive store he could find? A vintage bottle of whiskey and a nice book to sit with? They all sounded appealing to him.

“I would…” he finally started, “I’d like to sing one fucking song at karaoke because I’ve seen it in the movies, and nobody ever wants to go.”

Roman just about banged his head on the table. You flicked at his ear, before turning back to Connor. “Karaoke. Yeah, we can do that, Con.”

The room was illuminated with hazy shades of purples and blues, the lights hidden behind indents in the wall. It looked modern and sleek—an upscale to what was typically seen in the movies. Connor didn’t hesitate to make a beeline for the karaoke machine, fiddling with buttons and remotes and smiling to himself when he managed to get it up and working without asking for help. Shiv and Kendall wandered around cautiously. Roman was quick to toss himself onto the long, spacious couch, hanging off of the seats as if he were melting. You curled up beside him with a pleased hum, nose brushing over his lower cheek, scratchy with barely-there stubble.

There was a bit more dilly-dallying—Connor was concerned about Willa’s blue dot disappearing completely. The siblings were quick to brush him off, reassure him, tell him he wasn’t going to ever do better than Willa. The usual.

You sipped on a glass of champagne that Kendall handed you. There was more chatter—amicable and light and teasing. You poked fun at Kendall’s lame hat whilst Shiv plainly told Roman that his shoes were a size too large for his feet. That his feet were small and dainty and he would fall over if they were any smaller. More drinks, more giggling, more stories. You learned that fresh-faced college Kendall once puked on Stewy’s bed and cried at the foot of it after drinking too much. You told the siblings that you once slept with Angelina from accounting during your first year at the company, to which they responded with shocked snorts. There was a point where Roman grabbed your face and kissed you and kissed you until the rest of the siblings began faux-gagging, and Connor complained that it was like watching his siblings make out. Goddaughter-and-son incest, he’d said. 

It was fun, maybe. The closest to fun you could have with Roy siblings.

And it was gone in a second, like a candle snuffed in a hurricane. 

Logan was coming. Connor invited him because he loved him and he loved all of you and—

It hurt. Simple as that. It hurt to see the people he loved so… so torn.

The smiles melted away, and the laughter buzzed down. It was tense again. Family turned business once more. Connor finally put on a song to sing while he waited for his father to come, but your ears rang with white noise, so you didn’t quite register which song he was brokenly following along.

You were scared, you realized. Scared to face the man with the knife in his back. Roman worked his jaw and he complained some more. Not that you really heard what he said.

At some point, his phone began to ring, vibrating in his pants, pressed up against your leg. You raised a brow and scooched back so he could take it out to check. 

Logan. Dad. Of course. Roman’s hands shook, but only a little bit. Enough for you to see. Shiv grabbed it and hung up for him, not liking how long he hesitated. You stared at the black screen for a bit longer, your own fingers twitching.

Connor continued to sing. He finished three songs—maybe four—until the door creaked open. No knocks.

Colin came in first, then your godfather, then Kerry. He nodded, almost polite, with a casual greeting hanging in the air. It was eternally strange, the way Logan smiled at you. Warm, maybe. You didn’t know.

“Shit,” Roman said, almost amused, mostly… unprepared.

Chancing a glance to Shiv and Kendall, you noticed their stiff upper lips, their frozen postures. 

“Can we go somewhere else?” Logan asked, glancing around the large room. “These lights, er…”

Shiv shook her head in exasperation. A roll of her eyes. “We’re not going anywhere.”

There was little resistance to Logan. “Fine,” he easily acquiesced. With that, he took a seat in a velvet black chair, across all the siblings and you. Kerry jerked to sit next to him, which made Shiv recoil with a sneer.

“We won’t be needing you, Kerry. Thanks.”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, this here is a family fuck-fuck.”

There were a few glances around, Logan and Kerry looked at each other but neither moved. 

“Let’s get this figured out, and I can let you get back to your fun,” said Logan, ignoring them.

“Might be a wasted trip,” Kendall sardonically replied, tongue sharp. “Wanna give us a blast of New York, New York and fuck off?”

“I wanted to say something,” their father said.

Shiv retorted something else, and Kendall snickered under his breath. The buzzing in your ears grew louder.

“I guess I just wanted you there, a bit,” Logan said. “At my party.”

It was a play. Was it? Yes, of course. But if it wasn’t… 

But it was.

“Holy shit,” Kendall crooned. “Did Dad just say a feeling?”

“Well, you know. I thought maybe it would be nice,” said Logan. 

With exaggerated motions of his hands, Kendall exclaimed, “Oh, fuck! Now it’s all coming out! Oh, my God, Mr. Melodrama here! It’s like a fucking telenovela!”

Connor gestured between Kendall and his dad. “Come on, guys. He’s trying.”

Logan smiled, calm. “Y/N, dear,” he began. Your eyes snapped up to meet his and your spine seemed to grow rigid. “I had a lovely chat with your father. He was… surprised that you’re no longer holding Waystar together. Wouldn’t it be a shame, considering all the money he’s invested into the company? You’re setting millions on fire.”

The siblings all looked at you, curious. You swallowed, finding your throat painfully dry, despite all the champagne you’d been sipping prior to Logan’s arrival.

“If they expected me to stay at Waystar my entire life, they were always bound to be disappointed,” you responded, careful. “I won’t be tied down.”

A twitch of the old man’s mouth. Down or up or perhaps it hadn’t moved at all. “A shame. You worked so hard to compose acquisition branch details on Pierce just under a year ago. So much paperwork.” He shook his head. “And all of you—you knew I wanted Pierce ever since then. When I lost out, it wasn’t a good feeling.”

Fed up, Shiv finally leaned forward and hissed out, “I’m sorry, can we just cut the shit? It’s obvious why you’re here, Dad!”

Unsuspectingly, Kerry chimed, “Your father wanted to address the personal stuff and not just launch into business.”

Shiv’s jaw clicked. “Well, see, this isn’t personal, Dad. This is a business decision. This is about the money.”

Logan bobbed his head. “Look, you’re smart to ask about the money. You are. But Matsson—he won’t go there. You haven’t been around this, but I’ve got done a good deal and you’ll get enough to do whatever you want. I do ATN, you do Pierce. It’ll be a fresh start for all of us. It’ll make things better, and it starts there. All you have to do is… vote yes and support the deal.”

There was an uneasy shift next to you—Roman looked torn.

“You can separate the personal from the business,” Kerry offered. “Reset your dynamic as a family.”

Shiv snorted. “Oh, super! It’s gonna be just like how it used to—summer vacay and road trip musicals!” 

Hesitant, Roman supplied, “It just… it may be more complicated than that, dad.”

“I guess you’re still in the honeymoon phase,” Shiv told Kerry, cold and sarcastic. “Getting your own show on TV… amazing.”

The dark-haired woman glanced around, seeming to shrink further into her seat.

“No?” Roman asked, his attention piqued. Anything to latch onto to make everything feel less—tortuous. “You’re not going to be on TV now?”

Shiv laughed. “Has he fucked you on that?” 

Kendall nodded. “That’ll happen. The fucking. But congrats on losing your betrayal cherry—”

“Enough!” Logan said. It wasn’t loud, but heavy with finality. Your pulse skipped a beat, scratching down your ribcage almost painfully. Logan looked tired. “I though you’d be interested in an apology, but that’s enough.”

Incredulous, Shiv held a hand out. “Wait, what? An apology? We missed that, I think.”

Logan fixed an intense stare over all his children. “Look, I don’t do apologies. But if it means so much to you, then… sorry.”

In all your years of living, you’re not sure you’ve ever heard Logan apologize before. Was it genuine? Was it real? There was a long, terse silence. Roman stared at his father with his mouth slightly agape. You wrapped your arms around your stomach and stared at the door. Connor was looking down at his shoes. Kendall aimlessly observed Logan, finding that the apology he’d yearned for so many years of his life seemed to fall incredibly flat.

Shiv just about glared at her father in a challenging fashion, lips pursing tight. “There is nothing you could say to me now that I would ever believe.”

“This deal push could be worth a hundred mil to us, Dad,” said Kendall. “How many sorrys do we get for that?”

Kerry was starting to say something, but Roman butted in, looking incredibly troubled. “What are you actually sorry for, Dad? Are we actually doing this? Because I think, you know… seriously, what fucked all of this was when… it all happened with Mom in Italy.”

Logan averted his gaze to the carpeted ground. “Yeah, okay. I’ve had certain thoughts about that. With the best of intentions, I got the structure of the holding company, and the ownership structure of the family trust. There is a lack of clarity, and maybe you got a—”

“Amazing,” Shiv deadpanned, cutting her father off. “You sure you’re not having a seizure?”

For the first time in a very long time, Connor raised his voice at his baby sister. “He’s trying, Shiv! You said you were interested in an apology!”

Shiv glared at her father again. In a less harsh tone, she asked, “Anything else, Dad?”

There was a long pause. You wondered if Logan was haggling for words. 

“Come on, Dad,” Kendall goaded. “What are you sorry for?”

It felt like bullying, almost. In a severely twisted way. 

Kendall continued on, “Are you sorry for fucking ignoring Connor his whole life?”

“Bit strong,” protested Connor.

“Hitting Rome when he was a kid?” Kendall pointed at Roman, who shrugged.

“Oh, no—I mean, everyone hit me. I’m fucking annoying.” 

You frowned at Roman’s words, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Having Connor’s mom locked up?” Kendall continued on. 

Something twisted in the eldest Roy sibling’s expression. “Can we not do a whole show trial here?”

Finally, Shiv hissed out, “Okay, what about advising Tom on my divorce? Yeah? I mean, that took effort. That was above and beyond.”

“Tom asked me for advice,” said Logan. It didn’t go past everyone’s notice how he ignored all the rest of the hurtled accusations. “I recommended someone he could speak to. You weren’t around. If you’d been around, I would’ve offered you the same advice. But I can’t help you if you don’t see me.”

Shiv was hurt. It was clear as day, even if she refused to show it. She built up a wall, a front, brick by brick, and spun her hurt feelings into a low-flamed fury.

“Bottom line is, if we ask for more money, Matsson walks. I know that.”

“No!” Shiv asserted. There was something firmer in her tone this time. Angrier. “You don’t know that! You don’t know him! You don’t fucking know everything! Just because you say it doesn’t make it true! Everyone just fucking agrees with you and believes you so it becomes true—and then you can turn around and say oh! You see? I was right! But that’s just—that’s not how it is. You’re a human fucking gaslight!”

The silence that stretched across the room was thin. You were afraid to breathe, and so you bit down on your tongue.

Logan nodded and nodded. The brothers were quiet.

And so you felt compelled to say something. Sick with nerves, but compelled nonetheless. “Matsson has been fucking the company since the very start of negotiations. It’s only fair if you… bite him back.”

Logan watched you. There was something in his eyes that seemed to soften, but it was near imperceptible. Maybe you were simply seeing what you wanted to see. “I can’t take that risk,” he finally said. “Look, I just wanted to get us all together. What you kids don’t realize… this is a good deal. The world likes it. It makes sense. But deals have a habit of disappearing because pricks like Matsson get pissed off or snubbed. This… this is fucking real.”

You turned your head away and stared at the door once more. You wanted to leave. Crawl into bed and stop thinking about it all. Beside you, Roman was biting down on his thumb. A nervous habit.

“Okay, I think I can speak for everyone when I say this… go ask him for more money, Dad.” Shiv narrowed her eyes at her father.

“Why?” Logan asked. Are you not satisfied with what you already have? was the unsaid, lingering question hanging in the air.

Kendall tilted his head up. “Just good business sense. Gotta make our own pile. Right, Dad?” 

“Yeah, I just have to listen to my gut. I just gotta go with what my gut says,” Shiv piled on.

“Oh, come on. Jesus.” Logan pulled at his face, tired. In a span of five, maybe ten minutes… he seemed to age a decade. Finally, finally, the nice mask slipped. He leaned back in the velvet seat and spat out, “You’re such fucking dopes.”

Roman’s nose twitched and he shifted so he could lean further into you. You let him.

“You are not serious figures,” Logan went on. “I love you… but you are not serious people.”

His eyes were glassy for a second, but you weren’t exactly sure, because he stood up and hurriedly strode out of the karaoke room the very next second. No goodbyes. Kerry followed close behind him.

The hazy purple lights were beginning to make you nauseous. 

Everybody sat in silence for a little while longer. Let the conversation marinate. Shiv poured herself a drink and smiled into the rim, expression victorious.

“How was it for you guys?” she asked the group. “Fucking Dad, that is.”

“Amazing. Just over too soon. I could’ve kept going,” Kendall admitted.

Roman abruptly stood up, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. He made a noise of disgust.

“Rome, we’re kidding, man,” Kendall said.

He began to pace around, like a caged animal. “No, I know. It’s fine. It’s cool.”

Connor also stood up, shrugging on his jacket. “Well… I’m going home. ‘M tired.” 

“G’night, Con,” you said. He reached over the couch to give you a one-armed hug from behind. “She’ll come home. Willa.”

“It’s fine,” Connor said. 

Kendall arched a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah.” There was a nod and a tap of his shoe. “The good thing about having a family that doesn’t love you is that you learn to live without it.”

Shiv’s face crumpled. “What? Con, that’s not—”

With a shake of his head, Connor scoffed. “You’re all chasing after Dad saying, “Oh, please, love me, love me, I need love, I need attention!””

“I think that’s the opposite of what just happened,” Shiv argued. 

“You’re needy love sponges,” Connor pressed. “And I’m a plant that grows on rocks and lives off insects that die inside of me.”

Shiv laughed, Roman huffed, and Kendall stayed silent. 

“If Willa doesn’t come back, that’s fine. ‘Cause I don’t need love. It’s like a superpower,” he said. “And if she comes back and doesn’t love me, that’s okay too. I don’t need it. Thanks for the party.” With that, he stepped out of the karaoke room.

You jolted out of your seat, ignoring Roman’s questions as to where you were going. You rushed out the door after Connor, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste.

“Connor!” you called out. The older man halted in the middle of the dimly lit hallway.

“What? I’m not looking for pity, Y/N—”

You shuffled forward the last few steps and put your hand on his elbow. “Con, I just… I wanted to say—” You shook your head and wrapped your arms around him. “You’re my brother. I know you are. And… even if you don’t need love or whatever you were on about in there… I’ll still love you anyway. Okay? I don’t need you to need my love. You’ll have it.”

There was a momentary pause before Connor jerkily moved to pat your back and hug you back. Loose, but solid.

“You’re just a kid. A kid with my kid brother,” he said once he pulled away, rubbing his palms up and down your forearms. His eyes seemed to be watery and tired, but he laughed right from his belly. “I love you, too, kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

The two of you grinned at each other. 

“G’night, Con.” He let you go when you stepped back. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah…”  Connor nodded. “Big day.”

He walked off, and you watched him go. When you heard the door open, you turned to see Roman peeking his head out.

“Hey, Rome,” you greeted. “I love you, you know that?”

His eyes roamed over your face, and he smiled back. It was lopsided and slight. “Mmkay. Yeah, me too, fuckface. You feeling okay?” 

“Yeah. Should get home.” You craned your neck to lean forward, affectionately pecking his cheek. “You coming with?”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Eyes to the ground, then to the walls. Not on you. 

“Not… not yet. I’ll come in a bit. Just need to grab something from my place first.”

His place was barren. Everything in his place, you had in yours. You probably had more of his clothes in your closet than his own. You regarded him with a curious look, but decided not to press further.

“Okay, Rome. You have the key. Just don’t jostle me awake when you climb into bed.”

He guffawed. “I’ll sleep on the floor then, your royal majesty.” 

“Thank you.”

“I was joking. Just so you know. You prick.”

“I know. I wouldn’t want you to sleep on the floor, anyway. A waste of body heat.”

He kissed you then, surging forward to chase after your lips. You hummed in pleasant surprise, but kissed him back with just as much vigor. His lips were a darker shade of pink when he pulled away.

“See you at home, Roman.” After a final pat on his cheek, it was your turn to walk off. 

Roman wrung his hands nervously. There’d been a text to his phone while you were out talking to Connor—from his Dad. He glanced back at the door, where Shiv and Kendall were still speaking to each other inside. He rolled his shoulders and began to slowly walk out of the building, careful not to bump into you.

He was going to go pay his father a visit.

The top spot at ATN. Was it a tempting offer in it of itself or was it just tempting because his father was goading him to lick off the silver platter?

When he told you, and of course he told you, you just about blew up—in the most professional, stick-in-ass way possible—warning him not to take the offer with a strained voice and wide eyes. Not even consider it. ATN wasn’t where he wanted to be. His father was offering him a cyanide pill, obscured by a layer of fucking strawberries and cream.

The next morning, he numbly got dressed for Connor’s wedding. Got into the car after you, pinching your thigh once he clambered in next to you. His father called him on the way there, much to your dismay, telling him to come with him to meet Matsson, despite Connor’s wedding being literal hours away.

Roman turned him down. But he didn’t turn Logan away when he told Roman to fire Gerri since, apparently, he was beginning to lose faith in her. 

You were pretending not to listen to their conversation, but he knew you were. He could tell by the way your jaw seemed to twitch at the prospect of cutting Gerri loose. 

“Shit,” he breathed out once Logan hung up on him. “That’s fucking… bullshit.”

You drew your eyes away from the window, regarding him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do it, Rome.”

Everything felt crowded and tense all of a sudden. Roman squared his shoulders defensively. There was a stinging quip on the tip of his tongue, but nothing seemed to come out other than a rather passive, “Mmh.” 

The rest of the drive to the wedding venue was silent. But your hand came to lace with his, and that made him feel just a bit better. 

Once there, about half a dozen cameras swarmed the two of you coming out of the car, taking several candid shots, much to your irritation. It was only expected, what with Connor being in the run for president and the whole wedding being a PR move, anyway. But you gave them a smile nonetheless, made a show of kissing Roman’s cheek and walked off to greet other work acquaintances and wedding guests. From the corner of your eye, you could see Roman trying to talk to Gerri with a rather terse look on his face. You tried not to pay him any mind. He was digging his own grave.

Half an hour later, the wedding planner announced for family and friends to start boarding the boat. The few businesswomen you were chatting to kissed you on the cheek and told you they’d see you soon. You waved them goodbye and made your way onto the boat. Kissed and hugged and congratulated Willa. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress, even if she didn’t appear all too happy wearing it. After a short conversation, you moved on into the boat.

It was lavishly decorated, screaming luxury and American patriotism. There was a concerning amount of blue and red strewn everywhere. They weren’t being very subtle, were they?

You made your way onto the second floor, greeted by Kendall in a pair of sunglasses.

“Hey, loser,” he said, nudging you in the side. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” you replied, giving him a quick once over. “You look shitty. Hiding your terrible eyebags behind those shades, are you? Not doing a very good job, by the way.”

He seemed unfazed by your jab. “You excited for the wedding?”

“Neither Connor nor Willa seem too hot about it,” you told him with a mild grimace. On your way to the boat, you heard Connor yelling at his wedding planner about the cake being inadequate.

Kendall shrugged and pulled a nonchalant expression. “It’ll blow over. They’ll be fine.”

“I know. It just feels so… fake. All of it.” You jerked your head toward a frilly blue, red, and white banner. 

“Yeah, well, yours won’t be,” he said, scrutinizing you behind those ridiculous shades of his. “With Rome, I mean.”

“Wow! Yeah, well, we aren’t quite there yet, I think.” You laughed and rolled your eyes to the ceiling. “Besides, I can’t guarantee that you’re even invited to this hypothetical wedding. Who knows? I can never tell with you guys. You’re always five minutes away from ruining each other’s lives or being best friends.”

“I’ll crash your wedding if I’m not invited. It’s my baby brother, dude. I have to be there,” he said. You couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. 

“Good to know,” came your lighthearted retort. “I’ll be sure to save a slice of cake for you.”

With that, you bumped your fist into his bicep and walked off. Then, you spotted Roman out on deck, phone in his hand. You stepped out just in time to hear him bark out, “Don’t listen to this if you don’t want to—but I’m not… I’m not, uh, totally okay with… are you kinda just being shitty with me, Dad? ‘Cause… your son is getting married, and you can’t fucking just keep expecting me to bend over for you and being cunty, so I’m just asking. Yeah—that’s the question, actually. Are you a cunt? Okay. Give me a buzz.”

There were a few seconds of silence after he hung up. You approached him from behind and slung both your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Hey, fuckface,” he said. He sounded tired. Distressed.

“Hey,” you quietly said in reply. “I’m proud of you.”

“For calling Dad a cunt?”

“Yeah.” You huffed out a laugh. “I really am proud of you.”

Roman leaned back against you and hummed. “I just got on this boat and I already want to fucking leave.”

“That’ll break Connor’s heart.” 

“I know. I’m his favorite brother.”

“I think Shiv is his favorite brother, actually.”

The two of you laughed, and he didn’t bother arguing back. 

“Come on. I think Kendall and Shiv are looking for you,” you said, tugging him inside.

The two of you greeted the three other Roy siblings, where Connor was giving a rundown of his plan for Logan. 

“Okay, so the idea is that Dad will pop by, be dockside, and you guys will just be up here. I think that’s cleanest,” Connor told all of you.

Shiv pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Oh… okay. You really think he’s going to pop by?”

“I spoke with Kerry,” Connor said with a smile, crossing his fingers. “He’s hoping.”

With a nod of thanks, he gave you and Roman both a quick hug, before rushing back downstairs to be with his wife-to-be. 

“Well, someone’s gotta tell him,” said Shiv. “We should tell him.”

“We should,” Kendall agreed. Both you and Roman nodded. 

“Well, Shiv, you are his favorite,” you offered. 

The woman’s face regarded you as if you’d just stabbed her in the back. “No, come on—really?”

“He likes you,” Kendall insisted.

“Fine,” she sighed with slitted eyes. “I’ll be the wedding Grinch. Fuck you.”

The three of you watched her go with muted snickers. 

Then, Roman’s phone began to buzz. He fished it out of his pocket and let out an annoyed groan upon seeing Tom’s caller ID. 

“Oh my—ugh,” Roman hastily pressed on the green answer button, “Hello? Fucky-sucky brigade, how can I help you? Yeah?” 

You leaned onto the fancy leather couches next to Kendall, who was staring out the window, watching the gentle waves roil over the surface of the harbor. “Hey, Ken?”

“Mmh?”

“I’d invite you, you know.” 

Kendall’s eyes left the waters to look at you. “What?”

“To my wedding. Before I said I couldn’t guarantee you a spot—but I’d want you there.”

Something akin to gratitude flashed across his face. Before he could say anything, Roman’s panicked voice echoed over, and the both of you snapped your heads towards him.

“What?” he said into the phone. “Tom, what are you—?”

“What?” Kendall asked, immediately on his feet. “What’s happening?”

You followed suit, the two of you hovering over Roman’s sides. 

His palms grew white over the phone. “It’s—uh, Tom. Apparently Dad’s sick. Uh, what do you mean he’s sick? Sick, like—Tom? What’s going on? Are you still there?” 

“Where is he now?” you asked, brows furrowed. Roman could only shake his head, equally clueless, pulling the phone away so he could put it on speaker.

“Is he okay?” Kendall immediately asked. “Who’s with him?”

There was a lot of rustling and rummaging. It felt as if your heart had crawled its way into your throat. 

“It—it seems bad. Very, very bad. I’m so sorry to call you like this,” Tom’s voice crackled through.

“What?” you croaked. “What is it, though? Like, a fever?”

“Can you put him on the phone?” Roman asked. His voice shook and his brows were pulled tightly together. 

Again, Kendall asked the same questions, “Who’s there? Tom, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Ah—” You could practically see Tom scratching at his head. “He was short of breath and he went into the bathroom. And, well, uh, someone heard something and we were concerned, and they went in there.”

Kendall used his hands to gesticulate to nobody in particular. “They broke in?”

“They broke in, yeah. They had the key and they got in, but he’s not responsive.”

“Not responsive?” you parroted, eyes widening. This was far worse than just… sick. “Like—is he conscious?”

The brothers started to blurt out a multitude of questions, concerns exponentially heightened. 

“Is he talking? Can he talk?” Kendall asked.

“Is he breathing?” Roman’s shoulders were hunched over, as if he was trying to shrink in on himself. 

There was a brief pause. Uncomfortable and festered with fear. 

“They’re doing chest compressions,” Tom’s voice pierced through.

Your lungs seemed to contract in panic at his words. The room felt all the smaller. 

“Oh!” Roman exclaimed in a mixture of both shock and anguish. “Fuck.”

Kendall only pressed on with his queries. “Has his heart stopped?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you guys have the machine on board? The heart thing?” Roman asked.

“The defibrillator,” you said, clutching both your anxious, wringing hands to your chest. 

How had the day turned on its head so quickly?

“Is Siobhan there?” Tom’s voice was patchy and unclear. It was hard to hear over Kendall’s barrage of frustration.

“No, she’s not,” said Roman.

“Karl said that maybe he’s breathing,” Tom claimed.

Leaning forward, you hissed out, “Karl isn’t a medical professional, Tom. Who’s trained in there?”

“The, uh, the people. The attendant. I’ll put you on speaker—here’s, uh, Karl, here—”

The older man’s voice buzzed through, “That captain has been informed. The cabin staff are receiving medical advice from their service.”

Both Kendall and Roman barked questions over each other. Faintly, you heard an additional third voice in the back of the call.

“Is that Frank?” you asked. 

Tom cleared his throat. “Yeah, so—Frank thinks you guys should speak to him.  And I can—I can hold the phone near him if you’d like.”

Roman bit down on his tongue, angry. “Why does Frank think that, Tom?”

“I guess if it’s a last chance, you know. I think it’s the last chance.”

A shudder and a glare from Roman to the phone. “What the fuck do you mean, Tom?”

“You think he’s gonna die?” you whispered, eyes stinging as you stared down at the screen, watching the seconds of the call tick by.

“He’s… he’s not in good shape. They’re doing chest compressions.”

“Well, should they be doing that?” Roman just about yelled at the phone. You placed a hand on his hunched shoulder.

Frank began talking again, “They’re getting advice, they know what they’re doing. But I think you should talk to him. I’m not sure he’s breathing.”

The two both spluttered angrily. In denial, in frustration, in utter devastation.

“We just heard that he was breathing two seconds ago, Frank. You shouldn’t be doing CPR on someone who’s heart is still going! What the fuck is going on, Frank?” Kendall gritted out.

“I’ll put you by his ear,” Tom said. “I’ll put you right by him. He’ll be able to hear you if—if he can.”

If you hadn’t been so hyperfocused on the call, you would’ve realized that your entire body began to simultaneously tremble and tense, like a plank of wood caught in a hurricane. 

“Uh, you might wanna get Shiv, so she can—” 

“Yeah, we’ll—we’ll get her,” said Roman.

“Okay, I’ll put you by him now.”

“Is he okay?”

“No, Rome, he’s not okay.”

“You can speak now. Go ahead.”

There was a blistering silence. Roman gestured for Kendall to take the phone first, but he shook his head. He turned to you, but you weren’t even looking in his direction, clamoring for your own phone to try and contact Karolina. Your hands seemed not to work in coordination with your mind, because you struggled getting your phone to unlock, and then struggled even more to open up the right app to get to your contacts list.

This left Roman to speak to his maybe-dead dad on his own. He hurried around the room, as if there was going to be a corner on this wretched yacht that would make this somewhat easier to say. He ended up crouching by the end of the leather couch. 

“Hey, Dad. I, uh, hope you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Was he reassuring himself or his father? “Because you’re a—you’re a monster, and you’re going to win. ‘Cause you just—you just win. That’s what you do. And you’re, uh… you’re a good man. You’re a good dad. A very good dad. Uh… you did a good job. No—no. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do that.”

With that, Roman unceremoniously stood up and shoved his phone right into your palms, tugging away your own. “It’s your turn.”

Your shaking grew all the worse, but you put on a brave face and held it up to your face.

“Oh, uhm—hi, Uncle Logan. You, uhm… oh—I wasn’t prepared or this, you know, I would’ve… I would’ve, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have…”

It occurred to you that you managed to say absolutely nothing in the precious few seconds he had left. This sent you spiraling into another bout of anxious trembling. You only barely registered Roman’s own shaking hand on your side.

“You were so—such a big role in my life. So important. And—and, and, I really couldn’t have done anything without your help. Thank you. For everything. I… I love you, Uncle Lo. Really, I do. And I love your kids like my own siblings, and—and Rome, I’m—I love him. I promise I’ll, uh, I’ll take care of him. I just—uhm, I can’t really, there are just so many things you…”

Your nails scratched over your chest as you heaved out a shuddering breath. Realizing you couldn’t finish, you made your way over to Kendall and handed the phone to him with teary eyes.

“Okay,” Kendall said with the phone by his nose, blinking helplessly at the ground. “Hang in there. Yeah? Uhm…”

“It’ll be okay,” Roman softly whispered to him.

“It’ll be okay,” Kendall repeated into the phone. “We love you, Dad. Okay? We love you. I love you, Dad. I do. I love you, okay? Uh—and… it’s okay. Even though you fucking… I don’t know. I can’t—I can’t forgive you.”

You sniffled and wiped a stray tear with the sleeve of your dress. 

After a few final words, Kendall handed the phone back to Roman. Tom’s voice crackled through again, asking for Shiv. 

“Ken’s gonna get Shiv,” Roman said, voice small and child-like. Kendall nodded and staggered his way out of the room.

There was more commotion on the other end of the line. 

“What’s going on now?” Roman asked. 

“I, uhm—there’s, I’m not so sure—” Tom’s glitchy voice replied. “I think he’s gone, Roman.”

“What?” you asked.

“I think—I don’t know, I think there might not be a pulse, they’re not—”

A few seconds passed, with only scuffling noises on the other end. Shiv and Kendall appeared through the doorway just a minute later.

“They think he’s gone,” Roman told his sister as he handed the phone to her. “They think he’s dead.”

“What?” Shiv asked, her eyes welling up almost instantaneously. “No! I… I can’t have that.”

Tom spoke a few words to his wife, telling her that he was putting the phone back by Logan’s ear. Shiv strode away to ramble to her father in a semi-panicked fashion. She called him Dad at first, which spiraled into whisper-cries of Daddy, and angry curses intermingled with a multitude of I love yous.

You tugged at your face, aching with all the tension you were carrying. Roman’s hand was on your arm, but he left your side half a minute later to take the phone away from Shiv, who seized up with incoherent noises through blurred tears. He hugged her, but she didn’t return it, frozen on the spot.

The siblings all asked him more questions. 

“Is he okay at all?” Kendall asked.

“He’s not okay, no,” replied Tom. “He’s not.”

Shiv sucked in a shaky breath. “Is he gone? Tom?”

A brief pause.

“They say his heart stopped and his breathing stopped, too. For a while, maybe.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead, medically!” Roman asserted. “Right?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it did mean exactly that.

“I don’t know,” came Tom’s calm voice. “They’re still doing chest compressions.”

Kendall began to order Tom around, then Frank, then Jess. Something about getting the best doctor in the world. The best airplane medicine expert, whatever that meant. He disappeared out of the room to go up to the deck. You took a seat on the couch and sank your face into your palms.

When Kendall returned, his face was solemn and set in stone. “Frank thinks he’s gone,” he said.

Roman sank down on the ground, right by your feet. Shiv took a seat next to you.

“Why didn’t you come and get me?” Shiv sniffled, looking up at her big brother. 

“I—Shiv, I did. We did,” Kendall said.

“No, but I was right out there. How long was it happening before?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m—I wasn’t thinking—” Kendall shook his head.

Roman drew in a sharp breath. “There was no time. I promise you, there was no time at all.”

Kendall took his little sister’s hand and repeated his apologies. The sight made more tears spill over your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, guys,” you hoarsely said. “He’s not even my dad.”

“No, it’s…” Roman patted your knee. “He was. He is. Kind of.”

“It’s just—on the phone Tom said that Kerry spoke to him. Quite a bit,” Shiv said, voice bitter.

“I don’t know,” said Kendall. “I don’t—we don’t know if he could hear us.”

Another sniffle. Shiv nodded a bit. “Yeah. I’m just sad, I guess.”

Roman shifted uncomfortably, looking up at his siblings and you with large, worried eyes. “Uh—do we know if he was on his phone at all? Like, if he checked his messages or anything?”

Faintly, you recalled Roman leaving a voice message for him. Right. Roman had called his father a cunt. And you’d said you were proud of him for it. Nausea pressed fervently against the inside of your stomach. Roman drew in a sharp, stressful breath.

“Rome, it’s okay,” Kendall assured him. “We’re okay. You did good.”

The words didn’t sit with you well. You did good—as if it were one last performance before the curtains closed. The circus monkey and the ringleader. 

“Yeah, I know,” he quickly replied. Roman’s expression crumpled. “I don’t know if—I just don’t know. Like, if I said… I just feel like I didn’t—did I even say I loved him?”

Kendall nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” Roman asserted. The grip he had on your knee tightened. “Do you know?”

“Ro, hon, I’m—” The words lodged in your throat as you reached out to brush your knuckles over his cheekbone. “He knows.”

“No, but I really don’t think I did—” Roman jerked away to lean closer to the phone Tom was calling through. “Tom, could you put me back to his ear for—ergh, fuck it. Never mind. I don’t know. Maybe just keep the line open.”

If Tom replied, you didn’t hear.

Instead, you glanced out the doorway, where you saw Connor speaking to some other wedding guests. He didn’t know.

“Oh, fuck. We need to get Connor. We need to tell him,” Roman said, following your gaze. “Can you do it, Ken? I don’t think I can. I mean, I could, I definitely could, I just—”

Kendall nodded solemnly, and stood up. Shiv offered to go with him, rising to her feet and drawing in a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to maintain her long-gone composure. 

“Thank you,” Roman said from the ground. He crossed his legs and leaned against the side of your shins. In turn, you placed your hands on his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.

“I don’t remember the last thing I said to him,” you mumbled, voice filled with irritating tremors and warbles. “In that karaoke room. I don’t remember any of it, and I wasn’t even drunk or anything, I just—”

Roman pressed his cheek against your thigh, shutting his eyes. “I think you were okay. I don’t know. Maybe he heard us. And you have such a nice voice, y’know? Maybe it was good for him. If he heard it.”

The two of you sat in stuffy silence for a few minutes more. 

The three other siblings came to fetch the two of you sooner than you would’ve liked—whisking all of you upstairs to a more secluded room. Connor had tears in his eyes when all of you filed in, face wrought with anguish. “What happened?” he asked, sounding utterly devastated.

Roman apologized over and over again, but made no attempts to explain to him. Instead, he reached forward to grab at his oldest brother’s arm in a strange sort of semi-hug as Kendall filled Connor in on what happened.

“Well, actually, we don’t really know that he’s gone,” Roman asserted to the rest of you, drawing away from them. 

Both Kendall and Shiv began to clamor over the likelihood of Logan’s death. They seemed surprised that Roman was clinging onto such hope that he was alive. You watched Roman with such sad eyes that when he looked at you, he found himself growing even more upset.

“What?” he asked you crossly, brows drawing together. “Why are you looking at me like that? He—he could still fucking be alive! We don’t know! Are you going to trust, what, like, fucking Frank and Karl’s word on it? Don’t look at me like I’m crazy!”

“Right, well, you sound delusional, Rome,” Shiv tried telling him. You could tell she was trying to lay it easy on him and be nice, but it didn’t quite sound that way.

The siblings argued some more. Roman kept denying that Logan was dead, while Shiv gritted out that he’s gone. 

“All I’m saying is that we don’t know for sure. And—and until we do know, it’s just not a very nice thing to say, is it? So just fucking stop!” Roman yelled the last word out, and it ricocheted across the room like a bullet would. 

They all fell silent for a moment.

“Okay,” Shiv said. She looked to be on the verge of crying again. With quiet, reassuring words, Connor wrapped an arm around his little sister and let her lean against him.

“Roman,” you said, making his eyes snap to you. They were red and looked so tired. You were sure yours looked just the same. When you spread your arms as a non-verbal invite, he surged forward and buried himself into your embrace. The two of you held onto each other as if you were both lifeboats for one another in this vast sea of fucking nothing.

Kendall, disillusioned, went back to staring out the window.

“He didn’t want us together,” Roman choked out, forehead drooped onto your sternum. “He fucking—he told me to end it, and I didn’t listen, and I just never listened to him…”

Both your hands rubbed up and down his back. “I know. I know, Rome. I love you even if he didn’t want me to.”

Your words made Roman’s shoulders curl closer to his chest. Closer to you. “Fuck. Me, too, okay? Me, too.”

Half an hour later, the boat began moving away from the dock, much to all of your chagrin. 

Hugo had also come into the room, acting as a liaison. He told the lot of you that the plane-folk were starting to draft a statement to release to the news. The siblings angrily called them to ask what was going on—which did little to sway them.

Not too long after, Gerri came in to offer her condolences. Her presence made Roman all the more turbulent, and he lashed out at her, telling her to fuck off. 

Shiv asked her godmother if maybe they could stay up in the air a bit longer to give everyone some more time to think—and Roman told her to fuck off, too. At that point, you stepped in to say that it’s probably best not to delay the inevitable. Thankfully, Roman didn’t tell you to fuck off at that.

“Just to say,” Kendall said once both Hugo and Gerri hurried off to answer calls and get more information, “every single thing we say and do today… it’s all going in the memoirs, going in the fucking congressional record, it’s coming up at board meetings, it’s going in SEC filings.”

“God, Kendall,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “Your grief is not a fucking spectacle, okay? It’s not—none of this is meant to be a performance. You can… you can be a fucking human being for once, okay?”

“No, but, listen, I’m agreeing with you,” he said, holding out a hand. “If we tell them to circle the plane around to buy us time, then some fucking rumors start up, and we get crucified for being cold-hearted, or—I don’t even know. We’re highly liable to misinterpretation right now. What we do today will always be what we did the day our father died. So I’m agreeing with you, Y/N. We shouldn’t delay the inevitable.”

Nose flaring, Shiv shook her head in a frustrated manner.

“So, you know, let’s grieve and whatever,” Kendall continued on, “but not do anything that restricts our future freedom of movement.”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding in agreement. “Okay, Kendall. We’ll be careful.”

The siblings stepped out to discuss drafting statements themself, and you told them you’d arrange transport off the boat to the airport, where they’d be landing. 

Before you reconvened with them, however, you dropped by to see Connor one last time.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a frown that felt strangely childish, enveloping him in a hug. “I’m sorry your dad died, and I’m sorry I won’t be here to see you get married. Everything’s gone to shit and I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”

“It’s okay,” Connor said, rubbing your back comfortingly, not unsimilar to what you did with Roman. “It’s okay, kiddo. I appreciate you coming here to tell me.”

You pulled away, using the back of your palm to brush away your tears. “I got you, uhm—as a wedding present, I got you an oil painting kit. It’s not much, but I thought it’d be fun to try it out with you one day. I guess I just didn’t think—I thought I’d be able to give it to you after the ceremony, but… I don’t think I’ll be around. I’m sorry.”

Connor nodded, and smiled at you sadly. “It’s like you haven’t changed at all in twenty years, you know that? I feel so fuckin’ old.”

“Have a happy wedding, Con,” you told him. With that, you turned on your heel and headed off, breathing out a sigh of relief upon seeing a smaller boat right by the one you were on, ready to take you back to land.

One boat ride, one helicopter flight, and one private car later, you arrived at Teterboro Airport, where their plane touched down. Logan was announced dead at arrival. Roman balked and nearly puked up what little he’d eaten on the boat—you rubbed his back and told him everything was okay as he dry-retched nothing in the airport bathroom. There were already dozens of news reporters and journalists flooding the entrance-way for the impromptu press conference the Roy siblings were holding.

Before the sun was down, the news was spilled at the hands of Shiv. It was short and concise, over in no more than a minute. Questions, questions, and more questions—none of which were answered.

“Are we going to go see him?” Roman asked once it was all over. The plane was in view.

“Do we have to?” Kendall replied.

“I mean, he’s not going to be angry if we don’t,” Shiv replied. The rest of you smiled in silence.

Then, Kendall opened his arms, and the four of you leaned into a brief group hug. You kissed Shiv’s cheek and told her to get home safe. She nodded and took her leave. 

Roman jutted his head in the direction of the plane. “I’m gonna go see him. You coming, Kendall?” 

The oldest scuffed his shoe into the concrete pathway. “I’m gonna—I’ll watch him come down from here.”

“Okay,” said Roman. There was no surprise in his tone, but it lacked any sort of harsh judgment. 

“I’ll come with you,” you told Roman, taking his hand. “If you’re going to go see him, I’ll come with you.”

“Didn’t expect anything less,” he replied, eyes soft and sad. 

With a nod of goodbye at Kendall, the two of you left him to stand by the airport exit. 

“Do you think he would’ve been okay with us being together eventually, though?” Roman asked after a while, growing increasingly nervous as you neared the plane. Even now that his father was dead, he was still grasping for his approval.

There was a moment of contemplative silence. You wondered if you truly knew the answer to that, or if you were simply feeding into the kind-hearted caricature of a man Logan often didn’t live up to. 

“I think so,” you replied. Roman squeezed your hand. “I think he would’ve been proud of us for sticking together, even if he didn’t want us to at first. He would’ve respected you for it, eventually, because you didn’t take his shit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You beckoned to the stairs leading up into the plane’s cabin. “You ready?”

“No.” Roman’s jaw squared. “I’m scared, I think. But I have to go see him. You don’t have to come, you know. You don't have to be so fucking good all the time. You can just leave if you want to.”

With a contemplative hum, you nodded once after barely giving his words any thought. “I know I don’t have to be here. I know it all, Rome. But I’ll come with you anyway. Anywhere you go.”

Roman raised your conjoined hands, kissed your knuckles in an appreciative manner, and led the way inside.

[dorims]

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.

[bbr0wni3]

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

[senselessviolets]

“dream a little dream of me”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

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

Author's Notes:

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

Summary:

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

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

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

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

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

Well, except for you. 

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

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

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

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

Tonight was different. Tonight was heavy. 

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

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

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

Roman hadn’t ever kissed you like this.

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

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

So you remain still. Pliant. His.

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

It would remain a mystery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...not wet,” he says to himself. 

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

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

He smirks briefly when he sees your eyes flutter. 

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

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

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

He’s fucking savoring it. 

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

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

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

It wouldn’t suddenly make it ‘rape’.

 That ship had sailed several digits ago. 

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

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

But it doesn’t come. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As long as you found each other in the end.

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<3