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wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

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Turmoil; Chapter 1

Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!

Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line

a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 2.358k

Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.

You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.

Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.

It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.

A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.

It earns you millions.

You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.

You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.

Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.

He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.

When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.

“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.

“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I do my best.”

He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”

You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.

“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”

“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”

“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”

“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”

Your heart misses a beat.

“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”

You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.

“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”

Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”

You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.

“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”

He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”

You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”

“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.

“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”

“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.

He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”

You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”

“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”

“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”

“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.

Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”

☾𖤓

You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.

Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.

A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.

If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.

You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.

That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.

There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.

You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.

When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.

The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.

Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.

The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.

Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.

The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”

He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.

“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”

“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”

You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”

You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.

Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.

He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.

“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”

You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.

He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.

“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.

Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”

“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.

Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.

As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”

Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”

You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”

“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.

“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”

Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.

Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.

“I admire you, you know.”

“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”

She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”

“What do you want from me?”

“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”

After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.

“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”

“I take him to court, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”

You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”

Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.

Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #slowburn #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #succession slowburn #x reader slowburn #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

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wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

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Turmoil; Chapter 4

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: I’m back on that grind guys. enjoy x

Word Count: 2.744k

“You’re fucking lucky Y/N was there,” Kendall says, struggling not to raise his voice. “You’re so fucking lucky your vote didn’t tip the scale.”

You’re back in Kendall’s office, you and him perched on his sofa while Roman is stood, leaning against the wall.

“I… I just couldn’t,” he says meekly.

“Then why’d we agree to a vote of no confidence?” you ask. “Roman, I get if your feelings are complicated about this, but you almost fucked us over.“

“Why am I doing this again?” he asks, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Kendall scoffs. “You need to think about what you want. Dad’s a horrible person doing horrible things. You can go run to him, but I’m staying here.”

“We go to Norway tomorrow. How about we just have a good time?” Roman suggests. “There’s nothing we- or he, for the matter, can do while we’re abroad. I need… I just need a break.” You roll your eyes and get to your feet.

“Whatever, Roman. I’ll see you at home.” You give Kendall an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder before going out and finding Greg in the bullpen.

“Oh, hello, Y/N.” He finishes whatever it is he was doing and turns in his chair to face you. “I could hear the… commotion from all the way over here. And I saw the police, and, uh, Kendall’s still alive, so…?”

“Yeah. It worked, surprisingly. They had to escort Logan out the conference room.” You drag a hand over your eyes. “Instead of dinner, want to go out for lunch? I like you, Greg, but my brain’s going to be fried by the time the work day’s over, and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

He smooths his dress pants at the knee before getting up. “Yeah, no, yeah, that’d be great.” He glances over your shoulder. “Uh, is he okay?”

You follow his gaze, peering into Kendall’s office to find Roman facing you both, watching intently with his hands folded behind his back. “Don’t mind him. He’s neurotic.” You touch your thumb to the cool gold of the ring sitting on your finger.

“Well, then, after you.” You walk across the street to a quaint brunch spot that’s hailed for it’s food. “I love this place,” Greg tells you. The conversation pivots, however, when you both are seated. “Shiv told me you need some, what should I say… favors?”

“We do, and I’m sorry it’s all been dumped on you.”

“No, it’s okay. It makes me feel important.”

You laugh. “What do you have in mind? Shiv tell you anything?”

“I’ve been thinking- and it’s completely valid if my voice isn’t relevant to you, but I’d like to share my thoughts -that instead of whaling so hard on Logan directly, why not try to get access to him through Marcia? Or any past… connection?”

“Do you think we’ll be able to find anything?”

”I heard, through the grapevine, of course, a few rumors about Marcia and a… new friend.”

“If you find anything,” you say carefully, “I think you know what to do.”

“I also have heard a lot of complaining from people who work directly under him. Or, used to, I guess.”

“I think the general consensus is that he’s a criminal piece of shit. We just can’t find any proof.”

“I think I’ll be able to find something.” He tentatively picks up the menu laid out in front of him.

“Do you think you’ll make it out to Norway?”

“Me? I think Roman would shoot me.”

“You should come, after you deal with things here. Everyone could use a break.”

“I’ll try. I do really need to get out of here for a while.”

“If Roman’s giving you trouble, you can tell me, you know.”

“Oh, it isn’t anything new. I don’t know what it is with him. He has his own issues he doesn’t know how to deal with, so sometimes he projects.”

“That’s profound,” you say. “You’re right to not think anything of it. I know him well enough by now to say I don’t think he thinks before doing anything.”

You both order, and conversation comes easily to the two of you. Greg’s a wholesome guy, you think. He makes you comfortable, and you know you can trust him.

“I wanted to tell you something,” he says after a while. “I haven’t seen Connor in a bit. But last time I did see him, he was on the phone with some lawyer, talking about a lawsuit. And I’m almost 100% sure it wasn’t you, because I know your name isn’t Brad.”

You give your drink a slow stir. “Did you catch what the lawsuit was about?”

“All I heard were the words ‘negligence’ and ‘innkeepers law’.”

You press your lips together. None of this seems right. “Is it possible you can figure out the firm he was speaking with?”

“I’ll do my best. I figured you’d want to know.”

“I do. Thank you, Greg.”

Eventually, after a fight over bill(which you won), you hail a taxi and make your way back home. You kick your heels off by the door, Roman’s dress shoes haphazardly strewn in the same vicinity. You pad into the kitchen and toss your keys onto the counter, clocking Roman sat on the couch.

“Greg, huh?”

“What about him?” You pull a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah, I do. He’s respectful and I can trust him,” you say acridly.

“I respect you. A lot, actually.”

“You don’t show it. It’s not a competition, anyway. Why do you care?”

“We’re engaged.”

You roll your eyes at his childishness. It’s starting to get on your nerves. “We’re just friends, remember? Your words, not mine.” You leave the kitchen and wander into your room. You don’t think Roman’s ever slept in the bed- he’s been living on the couch. He gets up and follows you. “Even if I was into Greg- which I’m not -what’s your deal?”

“I lied to you. That morning.” You’re sitting at your desk now, and stare up at him.

“About?”

“What I remember.” He takes both your hands. “I remember everything I said. I meant it.”

You can feel your face begin to heat up. “Are you drunk?”

“Sober. I swear it.” He uses his finger to draw a cross over his heart, still gripping your hand in his.

“What’s your point here, Roman?”

“I want to try being something. I want us to try being something.”

“Are we just ignoring the fact that you threw us under the fucking bus?”

“Yes, we are. We’ll talk about that later, I promise.” He gets to his knees, resting his cheek on your thigh as he looks at you. “I want to do something right, for once. I want to do this right.”

You’re sat frozen in place. You force yourself to card a hand through his hair, pushing it from his face.

“You were on the news, once. Giving some legal advice before my father went on air for some propagandist bullshit. I thought you were so fucking hot. I mean, I still do-” He cuts himself off. “What I’m trying to say is, I like you, you’re fucking gorgeous, and while the situation we’re in is less than ideal, I want to make something out of it.” You stay silent. “You’re kind, funny, you’re brighter than the fucking sun. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but I’m just some piece of garbage who keeps making things between us worse. Friends? I was lying, then, too. I’ll never be able to accept you as just a friend. I’ll never stop wanting you.”

“Really?” is all you can manage.

“Yes, really. And I know I’m an asshole. I’m proud of it, 90% of the time. That last 10% is when I’m with you and I feel so fucking guilty I made that precious smile of yours disappear. It eats me alive that I piss you off. That you don’t like me. But that’s all I’ve ever been capable of doing.”

“So change it. Make me like you,” you say quietly. Reluctantly, he pulls himself to his feet and instead hooks his arms under you, hoisting you up. He takes your place in your desk chair, settling you on his lap.

“You deserve lots better than me, Y/N.” Roman keeps his arms wound around you, one tight around your waist, the other across your back, anchoring you to him. “I don’t know what I was doing this morning. I get so scared of him, Y/N. It’s like he was looking into my soul.”

“If you think I deserve better,” you begin, “become better.” You let yourself lean into his chest. “As for the vote, I still think you’re an asshole.”

He sighs. “And that’s fair. Kendall ripped me a new one after you left.”

“Good.” His hand wanders idly up and down your back, gently massaging knots of tension that he can find. “Roman Roy, realizing the consequences of his actions.” You drag a finger across his jaw. “Am I dreaming?”

”If we are, I don’t want to wake up.”

“So, what now?”

“We be all lovey-dovey. I mean, we’re already engaged.”

You snort. “You can’t stop saying that.”

“Who wouldn’t, when engaged to someone who looks like you?” He gives your ass a quick pinch.

“Roman!”

“Sorry. Had to,” he says, grinning stupidly. “Jokes aside though, I want to take it slow.”

“I… Yeah. Let’s take it slow.”

“You do want this, right?” he asks quietly.

“I’ve wanted you since the minute we made eye contact.” You stifle a smile. “You’re sexy when you have a stubble. What happened to it?”

“What, I’m not sexy now?” He absentmindedly draws a hand over his smooth jaw. “I’ll grow it back for you.”

“Hey, I’m just kidding. You’re sexy now, don’t worry.” Roman grunts and moves the two of you to bed.

“What? My back hurts.” He sinks into his side of the bed. “Please don’t make me sleep on the couch again.”

“You’re always welcome here.” You sigh happily and roll out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To brush my teeth and get ready for bed, unlike some slob I know. No outside clothes on my bed, Roman.”

You duck the pillow he chucks at you.

As you progress through your nightly routine, eventually, he comes to stand with you at the sink. You make a face at him before returning to your business. For a bit, he just watches you, happy to just be in your presence. When he starts brushing his teeth, he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you close.

You protest halfheartedly, and he rolls his eyes at you before spitting his toothpaste out. “Quit whining,” he tells you, giving your hip a squeeze.

“I’m building a wall between us tonight,” you threaten lightly.

“I was a rock climber as a kid.” He pokes you gently. “Now that you’ve let me into your cold, shriveled up heart, I’m not leaving.”

“You still have a lot of work to do, Roman,” you chide. “Just because you got onto your knees for the first time in your life doesn’t mean everything’s magically okay.”

You both pad back into your bedroom, crawling under the covers together. “I thought we could kiss and make up,” he says, propped up on his arm, facing you. You curl up on your side, also facing him.

“Absolutely not,” you tell him. “You’re going to sit here and explain yourself. Or you’re sleeping on the floor.”

He sighs, pulling up the blankets so that you’re both covered. “It’s like I blacked out. I was so scared, Y/N.”

“Why? He can’t do anything to you, Roman, especially now that I’m involved in all this.”

“It’s complicated,” he mutters.

”We have time,” you urge gently.

“It’s the way I grew up, I guess.” He collapses onto his back. “He’d snap over the smallest things. My entire childhood I was walking on eggshells. I don’t… It’s such a bad excuse. God, I feel horrible.” He covers his face with his hands.

You crawl over, close enough to him where you’re able to set your cheek onto his chest and still lay comfortably. You’re still facing him, and one of his hands moves to sit on your hip. “I think I was too harsh on you,” you murmur. “Don’t get me wrong, it still was a dick move, but I get it. Just promise you’ll do better, okay?”

He peels his other hand off of his face to wind it through your hair. “I promise. I promise.” You press a kiss to his chest, to which he stiffens. “Don’t,” he says quietly. “Don’t.”

Hesitantly, you pull away from him, settling on your side of the bed and facing the other way. You fall asleep without saying anything else.

You wake up to an empty bed. You thought it was going so well, too. You drag yourself out of bed and find him in the kitchen. Wordlessly, he pushes you a mug of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs.

“I felt bad. But then I remembered I don’t know how to cook,” Roman says meekly. “I’m sorry. It’s getting too real for me.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I, uh, ‘ve never been in a serious relationship. Not with someone I like this much. I don’t… I don’t want to fuck this up, Y/N.”

You try wiping the bleariness from your face. “I don’t understand you, Rome.”

He reaches out, wiping a bit of coffee from your lip. “I hope you can learn to.”

“As long as you put in the effort, too.” You look up at him. “I don’t mean to pressure you into anything you don’t want. I just mean I want you to actually try.” You take a sip from your mug. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you haven’t exactly been… proactive the last week.”

He leans against the counter behind him. “Who’s the one who went out with another man?”

“Roman, that doesn’t have anything to do with anything.” You laugh as he jabs a hand into your side.

“I’m not going to let you forget it.”

“It’s Greg. Wholesome, kind, Greg.”

“You should’ve been out with me.”

“Take me out, then.”

He bridges the small distance between you and fits his hands into the curves of your waist. “I’ll be all over you in Norway, don’t worry.” He takes the heel of his palm and massages circles into the skin of your hip.

“We need to leave soon,” you tell him. You want to kiss him, but you know you can’t.

“I haven’t even packed,” he says lightly.

“Roman!”

“God, I’ll never get sick of hearing that.”

You drag him into the closet and roll his suitcase over to him. “Get to it.”

☾𖤓

At the airport, Roman carries all of your bags for you. He even demands to hold your purse, a cute short strapped Prada you’d treated yourself to the first big check you’d received. He holds it by the handle over his shoulder the same way one would hold a jacket. He looks silly with his sunglasses on and your purse sitting on his back. It’s endearing, and you smile softly at him.

In the car out to the private jet, you and Shiv make plans to go out shopping your first day in Norway. Willa sits cramped next to Connor, and you feel bad, so you and Shiv invite her. Kendall’s practically snoring on Roman’s shoulder. The poor guy’s been working dusk till dawn this whole ordeal. He deserves the break.

You’re glad Logan won’t be taking the same plane as the six of you. You wouldn’t be able to handle it- the paranoia, his snide comments, and hell, even just his voice would set you off.

You and Shiv settle across from each other on the plane, her feet propped up in your lap. Roman’s slumped against you, asleep, and you think he’s drooling. Kendall sits across from him, also asleep, neck pillow and sleeping mask on like the sleeping beauty he is.

You sigh contentedly.

If you close your eyes, you can pretend like the threat that is Logan Roy isn’t dangling over your heads.

If you close your eyes, you can pretend like you’re just travelling with your chosen family.

If you close your eyes, you can pretend like you’re at peace.

#turmoil #wambsgansshoelaces #roman roy #roman roy slowburn #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession fic #succession hbo #succession x reader #romantic drama

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