#stewy hosseini the man that you are | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years

Text

Tethered.

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Pairing - Benny Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, sexual content, mentions of sobriety

Word Count - 5523

Author's Note - by popular demand!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, it was so helpful!! don't worry, there is still a stewy hosseini fic coming very soon. i love writing for the triple frontier boys, so if anyone has any requests or particular thoughts, please send them my way. i'm also a total will girly, if you couldn't tell. as always, lots of love <3

my other triple frontier fics - Time, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

Will’s strong hand rubs steady circles into your thigh under the table as you all hunch over laughing.

Benny’s telling the story of his bad date from the night before. The combination of his masterful storytelling and the whiskey that seems to be refilling itself is making you giddy, all of you high on the joy of being with your best friends. There’s no feeling quite like it, laughing until you cry.

“Wait, that doesn’t explain why she slapped you!” Santiago exclaims from opposite you, clapping Benny on the back.

“She slapped me because, it turns out, I’d kissed her best friend a few months ago. She called me a dog and everything,” he laughs, tears escaping from his eyes. “She had a strong hand!”

“Did you know who she was when you saw her?” Frankie asks, genuinely intrigued.

“I realised as soon as I sat down. I didn’t know it’d be a problem! Man, fuck blind dates,” Ben chuckles.

“Am I crazy for not seeing the issue here?” Santiago asks, looking around the table.

“I didn’t see it either, apparently. It’s not like me and Lucy ever went anywhere. It was just a kiss.” Benny’s face is scrunched up in confusion. It makes you want to smooth your thumb over the crease between his brows.

“She was giving me the look, I swear,” he continues. “So I went in for the kiss, and she hit me.”

The boys are all laughing again, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but join them. Benny has such an animated, expressive face, that even the most boring of stories are entertaining when being told by him. It’s a gift. He just has a way with people.

“What do you think, hermosa?” Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. “Would you kiss someone your best friend has kissed?”

“I don’t know,” you reply carefully. “Depends on the situation, I guess. I’d try not to, I think.”

Will’s looking at you with amusement in his eyes, slight smirk on his face. It’s clear that no one is putting the pieces together.

“Would you, Santi?” you question, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Probably not. I’d avoid it, if possible,” he replies.

The whiskey is making you braver than usual, a warm buzz running through your veins. Without thinking, you laugh,

“Too late.”

Everyone looks at you, brows raised in confusion. Will’s grinning now, chuckling to himself quietly. You’re giggling at their faces, their naivety making you smile.

You watch as Frankie looks slowly around the table, and then back at you. Shaking his head, he catches your eyes and snickers.

“Minx,” he mutters, still smiling.

“Am I missing something here?” Benny asks, surveying the silent communication happening between you, Frankie and Will.

You sigh sarcastically and throw your drink back, downing it in one go. Well, we’re doing this, you think.

“I’ve kissed every single person at this table,” you start. “Which means you’ve all kissed the same girl your best friend has kissed.”

Santiago and Benny go silent for a moment, processing this new information. Will and Frankie are still smiling, already a step ahead.

“Wait, what?” Santiago finally speaks. “You have?”

“Oh no. Pope thought he was special,” Frankie laughs, head thrown back.

“Stop it, Francisco! You are special, Santi. It just so happens that they are too.”

You point generally at the other boys, all of them with their eyes fixed on you. You can see that Benny is still figuring things out, the alcohol making his brain work slower than usual.

“I’ve known you guys for years. We’ve been through a lot together. And you’re like, the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you justify.

Everyone’s laughing now, the final piece finally being put into the jigsaw. You can tell they’re all thinking back to their kisses – you are too.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Benny had been the first one to kiss you.

It happened right at the beginning of his boxing career. He’d started working out religiously, meal planning, prepping for his first big fight. He set strict rules for himself – no alcohol, no women, no sex. You were glad he’d found an output for his energy, glad he was taking something so seriously – even if the idea of him getting hurt did terrify you.

The four of you had gone to support him, eager to see him win after months of watching him train and prepare. He’d really committed to the process, which was a surprise – Benny was a notorious ladies man. He loved to relax with a beer. But he’d never broken his self-made rules, not once. No matter the outcome of the fight, you were insanely proud of him. All of you were.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was electric. It was a big venue, with hundreds of people gathering to spectate. You hadn’t realised this was such a popular event. Adrenaline buzzed through the air, making you antsy with anticipation. You and the boys had front row seats by the ring, allowing you the perfect view, the ideal place to support Ben.

“I’m gonna go get us some beers,” Santiago yells over the noise.

“I’ll come help you,” you shout back, linking your hand into his so you don’t get separated.

You make your way out of the double doors and down the hallway in attempt to find the bar. On the journey, you spot a sign that points to the locker rooms.

“You order, I’ll be right back,” you tell Santiago, before following the directions.

You push open the door and step into the locker room. Benny is sat on the bench, headphones blasting music so loud you can hear it from 10 feet away. You make your way over, and touch him on the shoulder gently. He doesn’t startle.

“I don’t want to disturb you, Ben. Just wanted to say good luck,” you say quietly.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit next to him.

“You could never disturb me, honey. You’re my good luck charm,” he winks, and the cheekiness of it warms your chest.

He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You inhale with him, and soak up the heat that’s seeping into your skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happens out there,” you tell him. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, and throw a beaming smile at him before leaving. You find Santi at the bar, and help him carry the beers back to the boys.

You’ve never seen this side of Benny. He’s throwing and dodging punches like it’s second nature. The man moves like ocean waves, fluid and constant, never once caught off guard. There’s a lot to be said about the pastime of men fighting each other, but honestly, Ben has found his calling.

Electricity crackles through the air as Benny swings his last punch. His opponent falls to the mat as you rise from your seats. All of you instantly begin screaming, roars of celebration filling the space. Ben throws his fist in the air, signalling his victory. It’s rare, this feeling. The five of you don’t win very often. This needs to be savoured.

Eventually, the cheering dies down, and Benny leaves the ring to go and get changed. The boys are all ecstatic, chattering with pride in their voices about their brother, their teammate, their best friend.

“Be right back,” you tell them, moving to slip out of the doors and down the hallway.

You strut into the locker room, eyes scanning the space for the man you’re looking for. You find him stood, unwrapping his hands. Before you know it, you’re running into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you. His bare chest is dripping with sweat. He’s covering you in it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re both laughing, joy and love filling the air.

“I’m so proud of you,” you breathe into his neck, still in his arms. Your feet finally find the floor, and you lean back slightly to stare up at him.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, pretty girl,” he beams at you.

You can feel the energy coursing through his veins. He’s thrumming with it, buzzing with adrenaline – it feels like he’s going to burst. He’s practically vibrating.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Benny pulls you back to him, smashing his lips onto yours. He skims his hands down your back to grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself into him.

The kiss is needy, desperate, pulsing - all teeth and tongue. Benny walks you backwards to slam you against the lockers, using the pressure of his body to lean forward into you. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling forcefully. He groans, deep and guttural, and it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

He’s grabbing at your ass as he dips his head down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting at the column of your throat. Your dress is practically around your waist, and you roll your hips forward, searching for friction. It’s your turn to groan now.

“Fuck, honey,” he murmurs. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He holds you up with one arm, and moves the other hand to twist into the waistband of your underwear. He’s pulling them down when someone bangs on the door, startling you both.

“Benny! Champion! Get out here, man, or we’re coming in!”

It’s Will’s voice, that deep tone instantly recognisable.

You pull your lips from Benny’s, your head dropping back against the locker with a clang.

“Shit,” he chuckles, gently pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“Shit,” you repeat, giggling gently.

Benny puts you down carefully, smoothing down your dress with those big hands of his. He fixes your hair next, sweetly moving it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip, wiping where your lipstick has smudged.

“Do we look like we just made out?” you ask him, amusement evident in your tone.

“You do. I look like I just won a fight.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back. God, this man. One minute he’s got you whining against the lockers, and the next he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Come on,” you urge. “They’re gonna come busting in here any second.”

Right on cue, the door swings open, three men barrelling inside. They all jump on Benny, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a headlock affectionately. You watch from a short distance away, smile still etched on your face. You love them so much you’re worried your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You look at Will, and find him smirking at you. Always a step ahead. Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you into their celebrations. You’re being thrown around like you’re in some sort of whirlpool, dizzy with the joy of being with your best friends. You wouldn’t change a thing, even if you are a little lightheaded.

You catch eyes with Benny, and he winks. You know that the events of tonight aren’t going to change anything between the two of you. Your friendship is so solid, you’re convinced it can withstand anything. The five of you are connected, somehow. This unexplainable, invisible tether, binding you wherever you go. The kind of friendship that they write books about.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Frankie was the next person to kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him. You’re still not sure.

The five of you were at a bar downtown, drinking and laughing. The boys were a few beers deep, muscles relaxing and minds quietening.

But not Frankie.

When he’d made the decision to get sober, he’d included everything. He wasn’t a man who believed in partially sober, or ‘California sober’. If he was going to commit, he was going to commit fully. Alcohol included.

Usually, it didn’t bother him. He could go to bars with his friends, happily crack open beers for them when they watched a football game, make a mean margarita when they hung out at his pool in the summer. But that night, he was on edge. He didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint any reason specifically, but he was on overdrive. His mind wouldn’t slow down - thoughts barrelling into him at a hundred miles an hour. He was debating going home to bed, before realising that he was designated driver. So, he’d sat back in his seat, taken a deep breath, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to combust.

You’d noticed. Of course you had. You, with your observant eyes, your careful gaze, your genuine smile. You’d noticed.

Will had too. He was keeping an eye on Frankie from across the booth, but he wasn’t worried. He knew you were watching him like a hawk. That reassured Will to no end.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, old man, put your money where your mouth is!” Benny’s yelling at Santiago, grabbing him by the bicep, up and out of his chair. You watch as he drags him over to the pool table, determined to prove himself.

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, somehow, Benny and Santiago always managed to turn it into a competition. You, Will and Frankie were always happy to watch – you usually ended up playing referee, only interfering when someone cheated or got too rowdy.

The two of them began setting up a game, leaving you at the booth with the other two.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Frankie says suddenly, standing up and making his way out of the door.

Will gives you a look of concern.

“I got it. Just make sure those two idiots don’t kill each other with pool cues, please,” you joke.

Will chuckles and nods, squeezing your waist as you move past him to follow Frankie.

Outside, you find him around the side of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He’s breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a handle on things. You watch as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He slides down the wall, sitting on the cool ground, legs bent in front of him.

You walk over and sit down next to him, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete underneath your bare legs. You lean into him slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. He breathes you in, and you feel some of the tension melt from his muscles.

Eventually, you speak.

“You okay?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, cariño, I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m usually fine in bars, it doesn’t bother me. Guess I’m just anxious tonight.”

You hum in understanding, before realising something.

“What’s today’s date?”

He looks at you with puzzlement written all over his face, but answers you anyway.

“March 16th.”

“Happy one year of sobriety, Francisco.”

You can see it all clicking into place in his head. The reason he’s been on pins all day, the reason he’s been so wound up tonight, unable to settle. You figured it out before he could. Clever girl.

“And I’m celebrating it in a bar, apparently. How appropriate,” he laughs. It’s a real, hearty, genuine laugh. You love when he laughs like this – so hard that he starts wheezing. It’s so endearing, it makes you want to cry.

“I can’t believe I forgot. A year ago, it was like, the biggest milestone ever. And I forgot.”

You can tell he’s almost disappointed with himself. But you’re not. No, quite the opposite, actually.

“You see how great that is though, right?” you ask him. “You’re so busy living your life now, working, being the best dad ever, that you didn’t even have to think about it. It’s not a bad thing that you forgot about it, Frankie.”

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped around you, your head pressed into the crook of his neck.

“How do you do it, hermosa?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what to say.”

“Years of knowing you, probably. Years of loving you,” you answer.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, but you hear him clear as day.

“No, I don’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you, Francisco.”

He pulls away from you to look at you earnestly. He smiles at you, and you grin back at him. If love could lift you up, you’d be floating, both of you levitating with it.

Frankie leans in closer to you, and you mirror the movement. You’re not sure who kisses who, but suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands moving to cradle your face. It’s careful, and it’s gentle, and it’s so full of gratitude and history that it takes everything in you not to break out into a grin. One of his hands moves through your hair as the other one caresses your cheek. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed so tenderly. Neither can he.

Unbeknownst to you, Will has come out to check on you both. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. His heart swells in his chest, and he can’t help but smile. He knows that this won’t change anything between you and Frankie. It’s just the comfort he needed – you both needed. He makes his way back inside quietly, grateful for the both of you and the way you look after each other.

Eventually, you both pull apart. Frankie rests his forehead on yours, and takes the first full breath he’s taken all day. His shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. He’s okay, thanks to you.

“Thank you, cielito,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Everything. Knowing me better than I know myself. Knowing all of us better than we know ourselves.”

“Someone’s gotta keep you all alive,” you grin, and he chuckles, the vibration of it settling into your bones, warming you up from the inside out.

He pulls you back against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You both sit against the red brick, cold ground underneath you, for what feels like hours.

“There they are!” Santiago yells when he spots you both.

“Mom, Dad, can we go home?” Benny jokes, clearly down one drink too many.

“Of course we can, baby,” you smile, pulling Frankie to his feet with you.

You all clamber into Frankie’s truck – you riding shotgun, the other boys crammed in the back. You reach for your drivers hand, and interlace your fingers, resting your palms in your lap. You hold onto him all the way home, and can’t help but notice how much lighter he seems.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Santiago kissed you next.

The five of you were having a pool day at Frankie’s, trying to cool down in the Texan summer heat. It was rare, for all of you to have the same day off, so you planned to make the most of it.

The four boys were already in the backyard when you arrived. Letting yourself in, you made your way through the house, briefly stopping in the kitchen to put your popsicles in the freezer. You’d purposely picked the strawberry ones, knowing they were Frankie’s daughters favourite. She was at her mom’s house for the week, but you knew she’d be back at the weekend.

“Hey, honey!” Benny yells when he spots you at the back door.

All of them turn to look at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by all the golden skin on display. Benny is wearing swim shorts with an inseam that can’t be any more than 5 inches, strong thighs just begging to be bitten. Will’s navy shorts compliment his blond hair beautifully, and Santiago’s green ones bring out the dark brown of his eyes. Frankie still has his shirt on, but it hugs his biceps just right. Damn, you think. I might just have the most attractive best friends in the world.

They’re all grinning at you as you survey each of them. You know they don’t mind being ogled just a little.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Santiago teases, no seriousness whatsoever in his voice. You scoff and throw your head back in a laugh, all of them simultaneously joining you in your amusement.

You put down your bag and kick off your shoes, before grabbing the hem of your dress.

“Give us a show, Miss Supermodel,” Benny whistles, winking playfully.

You peel your dress over your head slowly, wiggling your hips as you go. You’re left in a little black bikini that admittedly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You don’t mind. You’re safe here.

They’re all whistling and cheering, make you laugh. You never feel more appreciated than when you’re with these boys. It’s everything. They’re everything.

“It’s like Sports Illustrated in real life,” Frankie grins, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Will says quietly when you catch his gaze. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile at him genuinely, silently thanking him.

Your eyes flicker to Santiago. He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It’s more than his usual appreciation. It’s hungry, hot, burning. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on your neck standing up. You have to get away from his stare before you jump his bones right in Frankie’s backyard.

“Want me to make you a margarita?” Frankie asks, innocently breaking through the moment.

“Yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

He smiles at you before retreating to the kitchen, Benny following him in search of beer.

The heat doesn’t ease up all day. It’s sweltering, covering you all in a sheen of sweat that can’t seem to be wiped away.

Santiago’s gaze doesn’t help your warmth. Every time you look over, he’s surveying you carefully, eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your breathing quicken. There’s always been chemistry between you, sure. You have chemistry with all of the boys. But it’s never been like this with Santiago. Yes, you flirt with each other – it’s in both of your natures. But this is different. This is real.

You spend all day lounging around. Frankie keeps you topped up with margaritas as you make trips in and out of the pool, messing around with the boys. Benny hoists you up onto his shoulders in the water, throwing you up into the air as high as he can and laughing when you splash back down. You and Will throw a ball back and forth, doubling over when he overshoots and hits Frankie, who’s soaking up the sun in a lawn chair. In the late afternoon, Frankie fires up the grill, preparing to barbeque for dinner.

“Pope, you gonna help me?” he shouts from the deck.

Santiago looks at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, before joining him. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. There’s anticipation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, butterflies swirling. Warmth has settled in your core, and Santi’s heated glances are only fuelling the fire.

The sun finally gives you some respite in the early evening. You all settle on the grass, drinks in hand, laughing about nothing and everything. Benny’s telling you about his next fight, describing his opponent in hilarious detail. You look down, and realise your glass is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone want anything?” you ask, smiling as you watch Benny jokingly pretend to box his brother.

“Can you grab me a beer, princesa?” Santiago asks, pointed gaze trained on you.

You nod and make your way inside, praying that it’s cooler in the kitchen. The sun might have gone in, but the warmth in your core hasn’t left.

You reach into the fridge for the jug of margaritas that Frankie made earlier. You’re rising onto your tiptoes to fetch a new glass from the top of the cabinet when you feel a presence against your back. Santiago grabs one from the shelf and places it on the counter in front of you, leaning forward as he does it. His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, and you shudder out a breath.

“So you’re feeling it too, mi amor?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re worried you might combust if he keeps speaking to you in that deep, low, raspy tone of his.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispers. He feels a shiver wrack through your body and chuckles.

You turn around to face him, and he steps forward, caging you in against the counter, arms on either side of you. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he practically purrs.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, testing the waters. You catch it with your teeth and pull it into your mouth, biting down gently before sucking, not once breaking eye contact. He groans and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you. You tangle a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and give him a look that says I dare you.

Santiago surges forward to capture your lips with his. It’s desperate and needy - a perfect representation of both of your states all day. He slips a strong thigh between your legs and pushes upward, making you whine. You’re pressing yourself into him, trying to get as close as possible. His hands are everywhere all at once – your hips, your hair, your back, your ass. He wants to feel all of you, and can’t decide where to start.

You feel drunk off of him as he kisses you. His tongue is making you melt, his steady hands the only thing keeping you upright. You could kiss him like this for hours, surrendering yourself to this man you call your best friend. This man you’ll love forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice Will entering the kitchen. He clocks the situation in front of him and tries to exit silently, walking backwards out the way he came in. He knocks into the recycling bin, startling you and Santiago, causing you to jump apart and hit your head on the cabinet behind you.

“Shit, sweetheart, you okay?” Will asks, genuine concern etched on his face.

Santiago cradles the back of your head as he looks at you, eyes searching yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t worry,” you reassure them.

Will smirks at you and winks cheekily before he leaves, grabbing a beer on his way out.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning forward to rest your head against Santiago’s chest. He strokes your hair lovingly, a laugh rumbling through him.

You both know Will isn’t going to say anything. He’s the most trustworthy one of them all. Always observing, never gossiping.

“Love you, hermosa,” he chuckles.

“Love you too, Santi,” you reply, wide smile painted on your face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will was the last to kiss you.

It had been a long time coming.

Some people think Will is hard to read. He’s introverted, quiet, a wallflower of sorts. But he isn’t hard to read. Not really. You just have to know what you’re looking at.

He’d called you up one Sunday morning, asking if you had plans. When you’d told him you didn’t, he invited you over for a day of pancakes and terrible movies. It sounded perfect.

Which is how you found yourself lying on Will’s couch, legs tangled together, your back to his chest. His strong arms have found home on your waist, wrapped around your middle. You’re not sure how you ended up here, as you started the movie on opposite ends of the sofa. No one’s complaining.

It’s rare, this kind of intimacy. Casual, effortless, easy. No thought goes into it. You just fall into each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Will’s always had that gift. He makes people feel comfortable. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, one look from those big blue eyes is all it takes to calm you down. It doesn’t matter if you’re being shot at on a battlefield, or just getting overwhelmed in a supermarket. Will’s there, and he knows exactly what you need. You’re convinced the man might be a mind reader, honestly.

He’s not, in fact, clairvoyant. He’s just a listener. No matter what you’re talking about, Will’s looking at you like you’re the centre of his universe. He’d be perfectly content to listen to your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you tell stories like this forever. You feel like the only girl in the world, as you lay here in his arms.

You’re deep in thought before you decide to break the silence, voice floating through the warmth of the room.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

You feel him hum from behind you before he answers softly.

“Every day since I met you.”

You nod gently before relaxing back into him, sighing in contentment.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?” he asks, mirroring your question.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you, William,” you murmur.

His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, and another to your bare shoulder.

You sit in the silence for a while, letting the questions hang heavy in the air. It’s not awkward – no, it’s the exact opposite. It’s comfortable.

“I’ve kissed Benny, Frankie and Santi,” you confess quietly. You’re not sure why, but it just feels like something you need to get off your chest. You don’t want him to judge you.

“I know,” he speaks softly. He knows. Of course he does.

“Does it make you think differently of me?” you query. You almost don’t want to know the answer.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies earnestly. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t look good for me, I guess.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. They’re your best friends. You love them. A kiss doesn’t have to change anything - not always, anyway.” He pauses. “Do you regret any of it?”

“Not at all,” you whisper.

“Exactly. We all think the world of you. You should know that by now.”

You shift and turn so that you’re sitting in between his legs, facing him. You press your forehead into his, and he smiles gently.

“I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too,” he replies, grinning widely.

Suddenly, he jumps off the couch, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go outside,” he prompts, dragging you out the door behind him.

“Will, it’s raining!” you squeal as he practically carries you into the backyard.

He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, both of you laughing. The downpour has drenched you both, clothes sticking to your skin, hair dripping. He puts you down and looks at you as if he’s reading the words off the very surface of your soul.

Gently, he pushes the hair out of your face, moving it to behind your ears. He uses his thumb to catch a raindrop that’s making it’s way down your cheek, swiping it away. You’re both soaked through, but you can’t feel the cold. You feel the warmest you ever have, love illuminating your bones.

Will leans down and presses his lips to yours. His hands are on your waist, and he pulls you closer, plastering you together. It’s tender, and it’s sweet, and it’s a perfect amalgamation of Will. You’ve never felt more at peace.

When he pulls away, you remember his words from earlier.

“Does this kiss change anything?” you ask, megawatt smile etched on your face.

“Everything, sweetheart,” he replies, grinning widely. “It changes everything.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“You saved the best until last,” Will beams, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

The boys all scoff, laughing as they do it. You smile broadly, moving to peck his lips tenderly.

“Sure did.”

Benny and Santiago roll their eyes jokingly, while Frankie jabs them both with his elbows.

“Idiots,” he murmurs, still chuckling.

Will’s hand finds yours under the table. His fingers twist the ring you’re wearing absentmindedly, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I love you, Mrs Miller.”

“I love you too, Mr Miller.”

“Guess I just had to kiss a few frogs to find my prince,” you wink at him, the whole table erupting into protests. You throw your head back in a laugh, your whole body vibrating with it. All four of them agree it’s their favourite sound in the world.

2K notes · View notes

scarletttries · 1 year

Text

How Succession Characters would react to getting you pregnant...

Pairings: Kendall Roy x Reader, Roman Roy x Reader, Tom Wambsgans x Reader, Greg Hirsch x Reader, Lucas Mattson x Reader, Stewy Hosseini x Reader

Author's note: Thank you for this fun request! Here is a little bit of thoughts on how a bunch of the Succession characters would react to finding out their partner (the reader) is pregnant ☺️

Kendall Roy

This man has had the importance of succession literally bred into him. His struggles with infertility and trying to be the kind of father he wishes he could be have taken a toll on poor Kendall, making him feel like he'll never have the family he's always wished for. That starts to ease when the two of you get together, slowly coming around to the idea that maybe he doesn't need anything else as long as he has you. But when your period is late, expect Kendall to notice, always keeping track of your body in the back of his mind in a way he just can't help but obsess over. He daren't say anything, certain that in the next week it will turn out to be nothing, his body once again failing to deliver him what he craves so much.

A few days later when you bring him lunch at the office he's all but pushed that hopeful thought out of his head until you present him a carefully wrapped box, inside of which sit a dozen positive pregnancy tests. He's in complete disbelief at first, eyes welling up and repeatedly asking if you're sure, and more uncomfortably for him, if it's definitely his. Once you've suitably convinced him of both of those facts, you'll get full, smiling, happy Kendall, scooping you into his arms and telling you exactly how 'fucking excited he is' loud enough that by 2pm that day everyone in the Waystar office has heard the news.

While you're pregnant Kendall can't stop telling everyone that the two of you are expecting, overflowing with pride and joy and love for your growing family. He's the kind of person to fly in the best midwife/doula/doctor in the world to make sure everything goes exactly to plan, making sure you don't have to lift a finger for the whole nine months. He'd also be an absolute menace for not being able to keep his hands off you, the way you glow as you start showing driving his little brain insane, wanting more than anything to just put baby after baby inside you.

Finally when the baby comes expect Kendall to be there. Yes he'll have a few wobbles and won't be perfect, the reality of his experience of fatherhood making him doubt he'll do anything good enough for this baby, but every time he sees the two of you, he knows he needs to step up and do whatever it takes for his little family, now that he finally has what he's been dreaming of.

Roman Roy

It's taken a long time for Roman just to get comfortable being intimate with you, a slow but not unpleasant journey that the two of you have been on since he first fell embarrassingly hard for you while working at Waystar. Given the months of longing looks and lingering touches it took to get to your first kiss, you never really thought about needing to use protection with Roman, until one particularly special night he finally wanted to try 'the whole thing' with you, surprised and delighted at how perfect it felt take make love to someone he truly cared for, allowing himself to be vulnerable in every way with you. As if wanting to make up for lost time, that night would lead to a real Honeymoon phase of Roman not being able to keep his hands off you, desperate to feel that incredible connection again and again.

You can hardly feel too surprised as the nurse confirms your suspicion, a follow up appointment made and a heavy piece of news on your shoulders as you ride silently in the town-car back to yours and Roman's home. He's his usual ball of emphatic energy as you step through the door, bounding up to you before stopping in his tracks at the clear weight on your chest. The words spill out before you can overthink it, watching carefully as you watch him process it all, slinking down to the floor and sitting cross-legged in silence as he contemplates. Roman had never planned to have a child, not ever expecting to find someone like you to share his life with, and he didn't exactly have the best relationship with the concept of fatherhood, a chill running down his spine at the thought of Logan ever laying a hand on his kid. Then a realisation began to calm him; that he was nothing like his father. And while he wouldn't be perfect, his immature brain sure to make mistakes along the way, he knew he would always make his child feel safe, something he wished someone had done for him all those years ago. So then he'd smile, and pull you down to the floor with him, and laugh his teary-eyed hyena laugh, and wrap you in his arms, protecting all three of you for the next chapter of your lives.

It's safe to say his family would be extremely surprised by the announcement, particularly Logan, who'd rejoice in a way that made Roman feel even more sure that he'd never be that kind of cruel, manipulative father that only wanted his children for what they could do for him. Throughout the pregnancy Roman would be up and down, jubilant and terrified, proud and ashamed, the whole thing trudging up more than its fair share of childhood trauma. But when it comes down to it, he'll be there to step up, immediately swearing to do whatever it takes to make sure your little one never feels the way he spent his life feeling.

Tom Wambsgans

Despite all the venom and acid that burned him in his first marriage (this one's for you team Tomshiv divorce), Tom is peak fatherhood material. You only have to look at the intensely caring way he talks about Mondale, the bizarre energy he's put into raising Greg, and of course, his absolute undying affections for you, to know this man would coddle a child like no one's business. You wouldn't even be scared to tell him, the news unplanned but certainly not unpleasant, the way this man fucks like a freight train clearly no match for the average condom.

You'd make an event of it, ordering balloons and cake and flowers to your shared duplex, so when he got home to a sea of congratulations there would be no doubt. A midwest man through and through, if you weren't already married he'd buy you a ring the very next day, the floods of happy tears stopping long enough to let him pick a perfect diamond. He'd spend half the week on the phone telling everyone he knows, so excited to grow your little family, and be the kind of man he'd been raised to be. He's definitely type to read an unhelpful number of articles to make sure he's doing everything he can 'to serve you and your growing child during this strenuous time', calling his mother to fly across the states to help out as you get closer to your due date. This man already has a short-list of the best preschools in New York by the time your bundle of joy comes in the world, ready to be a present father and husband, even if it means for once his career has to take a backseat.

Greg Hirsch

You had worked very very hard to make it crystal clear to Greg that whatever happened between the two of you was strictly on a casual basis, not wanting to get drawn into his complex family dynamics, or end up the centre of ATN news story. Despite his clear infatuation he had agreed, following every boundary and rule you set out to the best of his slightly clueless abilities. So when you triple checked the calendar and realised what had happened, you couldn't help but lock yourself in the Waystar women's bathroom and scream enough curses to make Kendall Roy blush. After deciding this was something you wanted, you'd finally let Greg buy you dinner, surprised by the calibre of restaurant he picked for what was really just a first date.

When you tell him the news, and make it clear you don't expect anything from him, you'd be pleasantly surprised by how loudly and excitedly he proclaims "that he loves kids!" earning a few uncomfortable looks from the tables around you. He'd be stressed and feel unprepared for sure, but he wanted more of a relationship with you and this was going to put that on the cards for him, plus he'd always wanted a family of his own so he couldn't wait to tell 'Uncle Tom and Great Grandpa Ewen' the news.

Realistically he'd be quite a useless partner, buying you your favourite sushi without realising you can't have it, and wanting to throw a party in your favourite bar to celebrate, forgetting you can't drink, but the thought would always be there. And if you need anything done, he's ready and waiting, even if he needs the clearest possible instructions and will end up having to call you for more information anyway. No matter how much trouble it gets him in with work/Tom he'd be at every appointment, proud to have a reason to pull himself together and excited to be a grown up, if it means being one by your side. Once you have your baby, he'd 100% bring them into the office, showing them around Waystar and being shocked at anyone implying its not appropriate to bring your baby to work, having Tom back him that it's important for all the Roy family to be there together.

Stewy Hosseini

Coming from the happiest family in the Succession universe, Stewy's often thought about having a family of his own, but his lifestyle of late nights and kissing boys on Molly means it's not something that he's ever really applied himself to pursuing. So when the two of you start dating he takes it seriously; he can tell he could have a real future with you, the type of warm, intelligent, kind person he's always wanted to find and settle down with. It wouldn't be long until you were introduced to his parents, watching over his nieces and nephews together and giving Stewy no choice but to pray you'll be the mother of his children. He'd want to go through the traditional order of things, getting married and building a home together before you started to grow your family, but when a happy night of too much rose in the hot tub on his balcony leads to a positive pregnancy test, he'd be absolutely elated. He'd call in every favour he was owed across the city to get your dream wedding together within a month, dragging you round viewings of townhouses with little gardens he immediately describes as 'perfect for the little one.'

Stewy would still respect your independence though, making his hopes and preferences known, but ultimately letting you call all the shots, just a helping hand and credit card to make whatever you're dreaming of come true. He's less protective than some of the others, but only because he knows you're tough as nails now and always, not wanting you to feels smothered and wrapped in bubble-wrap, still making sweet plans for just the two of you before and after the baby comes. Stewy would be such a happy and excited father, truly just a joy to be around.

Lukas Mattson (warning: darker themes, reader discretion advised)

Even just being seduced by Mattson would feel a little bit unsettling; uncertain of exactly how much of what he said he really meant, and what was all just charm and bravado that seemed to effortlessly ooze out of him. So when he insists that you don't need protection, or says he'll pull out but always does it a moment too late, you don't realise what he's up to until it's too late. You see from the moment Lucas met you, he knew you had to be his, and the easiest way to tie your lives together forever is to get you pregnant.

He'd pretend to be shocked by the news, like he hadn't worked night and day to baby-trap you, asking you sincerely if you want to keep it, and telling you you'd want for absolutely nothing if you just let him look after the two of you. He says it so sweetly, so sincerely, hovering his shaking hand just shy of your stomach and looking down at you with nothing but awestruck affection in his eyes that you can't help but fall for him, this image of devotion exactly what you want for your future. And as you say you want to keep it, and have your family with him, he'll fall to his knees and tear up, his whole life feeling like it lead to this moment, a child to make the best future he can for.

He'll throw himself into his work for a lot of your pregnancy, a new perspective on his work with AI, tinkering with the latest baby tech to make sure you two have everything you could possibly want to help you with this stage of your lives. You'll grow slightly more used to his intensity as he points it in a helpful direction, worshipping the ground you walk on and trying desperately to make everything as good as it can be for your little family.

761 notes · View notes

chaithetics · 7 months

Note

hey I had an idea for a stewy fic! Maybe it’s Roy!reader who gets scared on their wedding day (bc they’re a Roy and are not used to love) and stewy comforts them beforehand? I don’t know if that makes sense haha

Roy-ful Wedding Jitters

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x Roy Reader

Word count: 2.1K

Author's note: Ah! I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry for how long this was in my inbox. I owe you big time and I'm getting around to the older requests, I really hope you love this and it was worth the note! Not proofread so do enjoy y'all! I think this is ending the biggest gap between fics I've had so I'm sorry, love you all! Also, wear sunscreen!

Chapter/content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, established relationship, anxiety, not the best self-esteem, Roy childhood dynamics, mild cursing.

****************************

It was a peaceful morning, or it should’ve been, it was a peaceful-looking morning at least. Well peaceful as long as you didn’t look in a mirror and see the fear in your eyes or the growing shake in your hands. The weather was perfect, it was sunny and beautiful but it wasn’t too hot and even though you shouldn’t say it, if somebody forgot to wear sunscreen for a couple of hours, they’d get off burn-free.

This day had been perfectly chosen, the location, venue, color scheme and of course, the weather to ensure it was the perfect location at the perfect time. Just as everything was when the Roy name was attached and you had a casual perfectionist like Stewy Hosseini as your groom. Your wedding day had been carefully curated as if it were an exhibition at the most pretentious and lauded of museums and galleries. The receipts, emails, and photos could be packaged like Sofia Coppola’s Archive and sold as another overpriced coffee table book that wouldn’t get touched beyond the hands of the wealthy at a ridiculous launch event.

Despite the sheer perfection of this intimate Italian wedding, you were shaking slightly and there had been a ball of dread growing in your stomach the moment that woke you up. The kind of almost nausea you had that was pre-flying anxiety whenever you had a flight, the one that means you don’t eat the morning of and then feel even more nauseated later because of that.

You rub your eyes and look at him, sleeping blissfully, completely ignorant of the shitstorm swirling inside of his bride. You’re still feeling anxious. Anxious to be this vulnerable in front of another human being, to be so vulnerable on an intimate level. Love is a weakness, a desire, and you’re declaring in front of everyone and legally that this person, this man holding you right now is your weakness. It’s terrifying.

You get out of bed and start to pace as you think about how you’re just as cursed as everyone else in your family and all their doomed relationships that were infertile for love and how nobody in the Roy family ever got the memo of what a healthy relationship is. You start to anxiously scratch your neck as you come to the conclusion that just like everything else in your life, this day is doomed. It’s cursed in fact! You can’t help but think.

Unsure of whether to scream, run away or cry you look around the room. You even think about climbing out of the window of the suite… Why are you thinking this when there’s a door. A goddamn door you could just climb out of! You facepalm yourself and mutter under your breath how stupid you are. These feelings are very real and it’s definitely not a trauma response or form of self-sabotage you think to yourself.

Stewy wakes up and you hear him whisper that it’s because of your pacing as he looks at you with sleep still in his eyes and his hair handsomely but messily tousled from sleep. It’s only then that you realize that you had been pacing.

“I need something to drink… juice… fruit juice.” You said as you paced around the room.

“Fruit juice…?” Stewy asked curiously, he’d only just woken up and he was trying to keep track with the frantic rambling while also calming your nerves.

“Yeah, fruit juice!” You said it almost defensively and then tried to take a deep breath but the oxygen wouldn’t go all the way down to the pit of your stomach like it should. “Your body absorbs glucose quicker through liquids than solids. ” You added on in a less defensive tone.

“Um…okay?” Stewy was feeling more confused as he watched you. “Are you going to explain the difference between veins and arteries to me next?” He asked in a curious and gentle tone with a slight inflection of amusement.

“Maybe my blood sugar’s low.”

“Low? Your blood sugar? Are you okay?” Stewy’s voice was more concerned now and his face reflected that as his eyes widened and he tilted his head. Stewy quickly poured a drink and handed it to you, you drank it immediately while pacing with your back to him.

“Maybe today is cursed?” “It’s not cursed, hon-” “But,” you cut him off. “Look at us, we’re sleeping in the same suite, same bed. I woke up as the little spoon Stew. It’s breaking tradition, bad luck, curse-” “That’s like not even a superstition, you’re not wedding superstitious.” He says as he runs a hand through his dark curls.

“Maybe I should’ve been? This is-” “Honey, it’s a tradition. An outdated one that just doesn’t reflect modern relationships anymore. We live together. Kinda defeats that whole thing, that was when couples didn’t live together, it was arranged marriages and you met at the altar.” “I know.” You whisper, and you do.

“Fortunately for us, that’s not our situation at all.” He smiles at you and you sigh as you look around, this hasn’t done anything for your anxiety yet though.

“Did you ever think that-that… that well, anxiety is like a parasite-” You start to say before he cuts you off.

You’re just taking turns doing it now, he cuts you off to reassure you and then you cut yourself off to catastrophize more. What a morning of the wedding day dynamic you’ll think about in 5 years. “No, I haven’t but-” Stewy sounds mildly flabbergasted but he’s still trying. “And I had this parasite left in me, that they didn’t even know to take out when I was born. An awful little parasite of the parasitic qualities of my parents and it just ate away… fed and grew during every fucking developmental stage Stewy.” “You don’t have a parasite.” He’s being soft and genuine with you as he speaks through all of the worst fears your spitting out at him right now.

“No, I’ve become the parasite, the poison drips through and it trickled right into feeding and I’m… I’m just like him. I don’t want to be Stew, but I am.” There’s a desperation in your voice but also a resolution. “You’re nothing like your father. Right now, you share his last name and that is it. You are not him and you are not doomed to repeat the cycle.” Stewy says as he looks into your eyes.

“I’m a parasite and I’m just consumed… I’m going to latch onto you and just ruin you and this is just going to become miserable Stewy. I’m a Roy, it’s just…it’s just how it works. Look at my parents. My dad and his marriages. My dad and every relationship he’s had.” You say as you frantically run your fingers through your hair.

“Again, you’re not your dad. And you’re not your mother. We’re not your parents or any other weird item they’ve been a part of.” He says as he steps closer to you and tries to gently caress your arms.

“You get rid of parasites through antiparasitics and antibiotics, not marriage! That’s li-like… that’s like signing away your life for the parasite to chew on!” You spit out nervously.

“Good thing you’re not a parasite and you can’t marry them. And also for medicine existing.” Stewy says, he puts on a warm smile and his eyes glow as he tries to reassure you. “You’re okay babe, you’re okay. Just talk to me, just some jitters? What’s going on?”

His voice is so gentle as always and perfect. The way he speaks is just warm and inviting, like a cosy bath you just want to sink into and forget about everything in. His stupidly perfect voice just always had a way of making you melt, whether that was when he was trying to reassure you at your breaking point (right now), flirting with you and even when he was talking Wall St finance bro jargon and rubbish.

You took a deep breath and looked at him, your eyes were watery.

“Fuck…Now my eyes are watery and I’m going to get scolded for being puffy when they do make up, Stew.” You wiped your eyes and Stew quickly pulled you into his arms again and you rested your head against his chest as you tried to breathe.

“Some deep breaths honey, I love you and you love me.” He rubs your back gently in a comforting pattern and you take some deep breaths as you keep your face pressed against his comforting warmth.

“I do love you.” You whisper against his chest, you’re feeling a bit calmer now and enjoying the circular motions of how he’s gently caressing your back. Your words bring a smile to his face which you don’t see.

“Uh-huh, that’s why we’re getting married. We love each other lots, and always will. I haven’t seen the dress but I know you’re going to look smoking.” He says sweetly but the playful tone is evident and it makes you smile a little.

There’s still a feeling of terror dwelling inside of you but it’s easing up a bit, you look at him Stewy and you can’t help but be that scary thing, the thing your siblings run from and your father scolds, but vulnerable.

“What if I fuck it all up? That’s all… That’s all that Roys seems to be able to do.” You say sadly as you look up at him, you love him and it’s all you want to do.

Stewy gently caresses your face, his soft fingertips dancing across your cheek and he smiles adoringly.

“Well, it’s a good thing that in a few hours you’ll be a Hosseini.” You both let out a small chuckle at that and your eyes get a little teary at how he knows just how to disarm you perfectly with his big brown eyes, and his sweet and silly humour. “But even if you weren’t,” he adds on tenderly. “It doesn’t mean you’re the people before you, or your siblings. This isn’t bad, this doesn’t make you weak. It’d be such a lonely life if you never let anyone in, honey. Nobody deserves to feel the kind of loneliness you think you deserve because you grew up with that man and never experienced the love you deserved. That wasn’t normal or your fault. You’re worth love, you let me in and I love you. I loved you before you did and I love you even more now, and I’m just going to keep loving you.” His words are earnest and you can’t help but become even more tearier. It’s not from self-doubt or self-hate like it was before. Instead it’s from being so seen and loved by Stewy. Having someone reassure your worries and reactions, confrontations to being loved. Something that’s just so, so, so, so foreign to the Roys.

You look up at his big beautiful brown eyes and you see that he means every word he’s just said. He’s still hugging you but he caresses your cheek with one hand and you let out a content sigh at that.

“I’m sorry for… for this… I’m just… I don’t know, scared and-and you know how it gets sometimes. I love you more than anything though Stewy.” You admit as you lift your hand up to sit on his cheek and feel his always perfectly trimmed beard tickle against your palm and fingertips.

“I know, I know, and I love you.” He says back softly.

You lean and tilt your head and you two kiss, it starts off soft and you can’t help but deepen it as you once again admit to yourself, the all-consuming love you have for him and the need you have for him. The desire and need that is sparked by his simple existence, his cologne, his beard and how it feels against your face and hands, his voice of warm honey on a cold day.

His hand is firmly on your waist and he kisses you back, your hand snakes up to caress and run through his hair and you gasp for air against his lips but you don’t dare to pull away. You love him and you’re happy to have him, so happy. You kiss passionately as you know this is the start of the next milestone, the milestone happening today. He genuinely cares about you and you’re loved and you love, you love him. You’re capable of receiving and giving love and as you kiss your groom in your room before the intimate but big-deal ceremony, you know this is right. This is what’s right and you deserve this.

92 notes · View notes