Title: heart of gold (bought it on sale)
Fandom: succession/leverage
Rating: teen
Length: ~600 words
Author notes: gen/pre-femslash, new fandom [succession], set in season 1 for succession & season 2 for leverage, also for the softer world ficathon

Willa nurses her drink, ignores her phone’s vibrations. Things with Con have been… She never thought it’d get serious, that was a huge part of his appeal. He was more sugar daddy than john, happily financed her education. She thought once she was old enough, he’d grow bored of her and get a new model- and it wouldn’t matter, because she’d be directing plays or acting or writing or whatever. As much as Con liked to pretend he enjoyed ‘sticking it to the family’ by having her around, she knows how much he wants it all to be real, to take the money out of the equation. If she let him, he’d propose and that reminder deserves another vodka-cranberry.

It’s tempting, she can admit that. Connor’s easy to lie to, only ever wants to hear his truth. Thirty, forty years, and she’d inherit his fortune. Thirty, forty years- and fuck, half of her life would be gone. She can already feel the year they’ve been semi-to-actually exclusive weighing on her, doesn’t want to imagine magnifying that. Con’s been pushing her to move to his house in the middle of nowhere, as if she could create art in a vacuum.

Connor’s the safe choice, always has been.

But there’s 80,000 reasons sitting in her bank account, telling her to be free.

Eighty thousand, more than she ever could have imagined when she got into this as a starving college student. Back when she still talked to her mother, well, argued with her anyways. Back when she was afraid she’d have to drop out and her roommate saved the day, let her in on the world of escorting. The first year she blew everything she earned- every cent to her tuition fees or on new clothes. God, she was such a naive idiot back then. These days she’s more careful with the money- saving the majority, and only spending a tiny bit on flashy accessories to look the part.

She’s an excellent actress- if only she could do it on stage. Willa flags down the bartender for a refill, sends Connor a string of emojis he’ll take an hour to decipher. It’s already late autumn, November around the corner; she should wait until the holidays are over to break up. Marcia’s been pushing for a family getaway to some island they own, the trip sure to be decadent beyond belief. (One last uber one-percent vacation can’t hurt.)

A pretty older woman takes the seat next to her, setting off all her alarms. She’s wearing Chanel, classic and understated, but the diamonds on her ears easily cost thirty thousand, look to be around four carats. She smiles, and it clicks- makes no more sense for it.

“I know you, I saw you in a play, um, Ophelia right?”

The woman laughs lightly, “Two summers ago, yes.”

“Are you still acting um-?” Willa flushes, can’t recall her name.

“Sophie, pleasure to meet you. No, I’m afraid my acting was too ahead of the times.”

“Pity for them. I’m Willa.”

Sophie cocks her head to the side, and she adds on, “I’m a playwright, well I want to be. I’ve been thinking about a piece where it takes the audience from a comfortable homey space, to the exact opposite.”

“And you thought of me.”

Willa’s cheeks burn, she’s usually so much better with people. “Er, I-”

Sophie’s tinkling laughter returns, “Buy me a drink and tell me about it, maybe I’ll come out of retirement.”

And for the first time in a very long time, Willa has a real idea on how to move forwards.