#stewy hosseini x roy!reader

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Clandestine. Part Four.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

Chapter Synopsis - Death puts everything into perspective.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female Roy!Reader

Warnings - cursing. lots of talk about grief.

Word Count - 3k

Author’s Note - now I might just be the last person on tumblr still writing for stewy, but I am determined to finish this series. let’s ignore the fact it’s been a year since I updated it, shall we? one more part of this to go!! thank you, if you’re still here for my succession stuff <3

Series Masterlist. Main Masterlist. Inbox.

You’re floating around in a daze.

It’s been a week since Connor’s phone call. A week since the formidable Logan Roy died on the floor of his private plane, surrounded by his closest employees. A week since you’ve seen Stewy.

You’ve been crashing in Roman’s guest room, neither of you wanting to be alone. You go to your Dad’s apartment, have meetings with old white men that all look the same, pop into the office every now and again and go home to your brothers. You were barely speaking to Kendall before all of this happening, never mind now. You can’t remember the last time the two of you said more than three words to each other.

You’re sat at Roman’s dinner table when a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. You watch him picking at his salad for a minute before you say anything.

“Have you… spoke to Kendall? Like, over the last few days?”

Roman looks confused by the question, but doesn’t voice it.

“Yeah, here and there. You guys are in a fight, right?”

“Uh, yeah. We were. I guess we still are. I’m just… worried about him. God knows his mental health has been in the gutter recently anyway, but now Dad’s dead, and… I don’t know. It just can’t end well, right?”

“All we can do is keep an eye on him, I guess. He won’t fucking accept it even if we try and help, so.”

“Yeah.”

You move the chicken around on your plate with your fork, neither of you having much of an appetite recently.

“So, you never told me what your fight was about. It all seems like this big ass fucking secret that only Roman doesn’t know about.”

You’re a little taken aback by Romans candour. Usually he’s pretty avoidant, happy to live with the not knowing. He’s done with that, apparently.

“You’re not the only one that doesn’t know, Rome. Ken is the only one that does.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why? Why does everyone include Kendall in everything and leave me on the fucking sidelines? Why am I always the one who doesn’t get the joke, who doesn’t know the secret?”

“Rome-”

“I know he’s your favourite, but Jesus. You could at least try and include me sometimes.”

“Roman.”

“What?”

“Kendall only ‘knows the secret’ because he… walked in on the secret. Not because I sought him out and told him, or anything like that. I promise.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

With what has happened over the past week, your perspective on almost everything has changed. Keeping your secret is no longer top priority - or priority at all. You’re realising that you don’t care, because it doesn’t matter. Not much really matters.

“I’m in love with Stewy.”

Roman’s silent for a moment, processing.

“Hosseini?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, Rome. Hosseini. Do you know any other Stewys?”

He shakes his head, still visibly confused.

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

“Oh. Oh. Yeah, um… he already knows. We - we’re in love. With each other. We’re dating.”

“You’re dating him?”

“That’s crazier than me being in love with him one sided?”

“Uh, yeah.”

You chuckle, looking at him for a moment before a grin breaks out across his face. He’s always been the most easy going of your brothers, the most understanding. You’ve always felt a comfort in talking to Roman - he’s more open minded than he appears. He’s a surprisingly good listener, even when you think your problems are trivial or stupid.

“For how long?”

“Fuck, I don’t even know. Two years, give or take?”

“Two years?”

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? I’m mad impressed, Princess. I didn’t think you’d be able to keep a big secret like that from me for that long.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

You’re suddenly vulnerable, terrified that your big brother is going to think less of you. Your brothers are all you have, all you’ve ever had. The four of you learned to survive with each other, with no help from parents or nannies or any kind of adult. You have nothing if you don’t have your brothers.

“I don’t hate you, dummy. I could never hate you.”

You stand up and make your way over to him, perching on his leg like you used to when you were kids. You wrap your arms around his neck, exhaling when he wraps his around your middle.

“Love you, Rome,” you whisper. “Even if you are a pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, love you too,” he murmurs. “Even if you do keep important secrets from me.”

“I promise I won’t keep anything from you ever again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Promise. No more secrets.”

You pull back but stay sat on his lap, feeling six years old again, taking solace in the presence of your big brother.

“So Kendall… walked in on you?”

“He saw us leaving the gala together and got suspicious. He showed up at Stewy’s apartment the next morning, banging on the door and asking where I was.”

“Oh shit,” he laughs.

“It’s not funny,” you retort, but you’re holding back your giggles as you do it.

“And I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

“Not at all. He was cycling between yelling and swearing and then sitting really quietly just… staring into space. Then he got personal, which was expected, but that pissed Stewy off, so the whole thing got awkward again. It was… horrendous.”

“He’s horrible at feelings.”

“Says Mr Communication over here.”

He shoves you off his lap, chuckling when you slide onto the floor. You punch him in the arm as you get up, returning to your original seat. You sit in silence for a moment, neither of you quite sure how to continue.

“What now?”

“I… don’t know, Rome. I just don’t know.”

“I mean, the world hasn’t stopped spinning. Maybe it feels like it has for us, but everyone else has carried on.”

You’re confused by your brother’s sudden wisdom, until it clicks for you.

He’s free.

Sure, he’s grieving. You all are. But he’s lighter. Laughs a little easier. Gives out advice quicker.

He’s free.

You all are.

The shackles your father had placed on all four of you are broken. You are no longer bound to him or Waystar or his insane ideals as to what family should be or do or say.

“I need to get out.”

“What?” Roman asks as he cocks his head, quirking a brow at you in curiosity.

“I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. This… constant cycle of destruction and deception and stabbing people in the back. It won’t stop now that Dad’s dead. It’s the very foundation that his business is built on.”

“So you’re gonna… leave?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna sell my shares and I’m gonna get the fuck out.”

Roman laughs, now, all big and bold and beautiful. You don’t know what’s funny, but you can’t help but laugh with him.

“I am too.”

“Wait… what?”

“I’m doing the same.”

“Roman.”

“I’m serious. I don’t know who CEO is gonna be, but it isn’t gonna be me. It’ll be Kendall or Tom or someone completely different, but we all know neither you or I are capable.”

“Jeez. Thanks.”

“You’re telling me you could run the entire Waystar business?”

You roll your eyes, kicking him under the table.

“Obviously I fucking couldn’t. But at least pretend to have a little bit more faith in me.”

Your brother chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

“We’re not built for it, you and me. We’re meant for something different. Something better, Princess.”

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

“What about Kendall?”

“What about him?”

“I feel like we’re… abandoning him.”

Rome looks solemn, suddenly, thinking about your older brother.

“He’ll come around, you know. And he’ll understand. That’s the thing about Kendall - he can’t hold a grudge to save his life. He tries, but he can’t.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, lump in your throat choking any words that try to escape.

“Hey, hey,” Roman soothes as he walks over, standing above you.

He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away your sadness.

“He loves you more than anything, you know.”

You shake your head, so your brother doubles down.

“He does. You’ve always been his favourite. He’d do anything for you - anything at all. He’s mad because you and Stewy kept a secret from him, not because you’re together. Trust me.”

“He looked at me that day like he hated me.”

“He couldn’t hate you if he tried. He’s just… emotionally unavailable. Everyone knows this.”

“I miss him,” you whisper, lip trembling. “I miss my brother.”

You’re taken aback by how much you miss Kendall, suddenly. You miss him so much more than you miss Logan, or your Mom.

“Give him time. That’s all he needs. He misses you, I know he does. But you know what he’s like when he feels betrayed. He shuts down and gets all aggressive.”

You look up at Roman, gentle smile making its way onto your face.

“When did you get so smart, huh?”

“I’ve always been smart,” he laughs. “Everyone underestimates me.”

“That they do.”

“Well, not anymore. We’re getting out.”

“We’re getting out,” you repeat, finally allowing yourself to feel happiness at the prospect. “We’re gonna get the fuck out.”

“Talk to Stewy about selling your shares and let me know what he says. The sooner, the better.”

“I will. I’m excited, Rome. The world is our oyster.”

“Me too,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. “We’ll go to the funeral, and then we’ll never have to see any of those assholes ever again.”

“I can’t wait to not have to look at Karl’s stupid fucking face every day.”

Roman keels over laughing, wheezing as he clutches his stomach. You’re crying with laughter too, both of you lighter and freer than you’ve ever been.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You sure about this, Rome?”

“One hundred percent.”

You hug him tightly as you say goodbye, smiling when he presses a kiss into your hair.

“I’ll let you know what Stewy says tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Princess. Call me if you need anything.”

“You too. Anything.”

He ruffles your hair before sending you on your way, waiting at the front door to watch you go.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“Stewy? You home?”

You drop your bags by the front door, kicking off your shoes and jacket as you do it. You’re about to yell again when he comes running around the corner, sliding across the wood floors in his socks.

“Baby.”

He breathes it, as if he can’t believe you’re really standing in front of him again.

“Missed you, Hosseini.”

You fly into his arms, burying yourself as deep as you can in his chest. His old, worn t shirt is soft and grey and smells like the love of your life and all of his memories spent at home. He tightens his grip on you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“How are you?” he asks without letting go, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I’m okay. I’m good, actually. Really good.”

“Yeah?”

Now he pulls away to look at you, confused by the sudden change of heart. When you left to go to Roman’s a week ago, you were a shell of a woman, a little girl without a dad. Now, you’re back, brighter and more alive than ever.

“Yeah.”

You look at him, really look at him, for a moment, before taking a deep breath and saying the words you’ve been dying to say.

“Marry me, Stewy.”

He staggers back as if you’ve hit him, eyes blown wide.

“W-what?”

“Marry me.”

He inhales, exhaling shakily before stepping forward to cradle your face in his hands.

“Aren’t I supposed to be asking you that?”

“Maybe,” you laugh. “But I guess I got there first.”

“Honey, forgive me if I’m a little confused, but… you just came back after being gone for a week because your dad died and now you’re… proposing?”

“Me and Roman are leaving Waystar,” you explain. “We’re selling our shares and getting the fuck out.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Really. The only thing stopping me from leaving years ago was the fear of disappointing my dad, and now he’s gone. So… there’s nothing keeping me there. I wanna do something else. Something for me.”

“Yeah?”

He’s grinning, beaming at you from ear to ear. Light is practically pouring from him, radiating in all directions.

“Yeah,” you half yell, leaning up to press an excited kiss to his lips. “I’m done, Stewy. I’m free.”

He picks you up, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you spin. You shriek with laughter, the world blurring as it whizzes past you. Eventually he puts you down, both of you breathless.

“Life’s too short. I need to start living it.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you so much. More than anything.”

You kiss him tenderly, gentle and sweet and filled with so much adoration.

“So, back to my original question…”

“Wait,” he interrupts, halting your speech. “Let me do this the right way.”

With that, he runs off towards the bedroom, leaving you stood in the hallway as confused as ever. You wait patiently, desperate to be privy to his plans.

When he returns, still in his pyjamas, he kisses you softly before getting down on one knee, ring box in his hand.

“Honey. You are the love of my goddamn life. I bought this ring after we’d been dating for… three months? Call me crazy, but I knew. I just knew. It was always going to be me and you. Always.”

Your hands are shaking, breath caught in your chest as you try to soak in every second of this moment.

“So…. how do you feel about becoming Mrs Hosseini?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d love more.”

“Is that a yes?”

“The biggest, most sure yes of my entire life. Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes.”

He swoops you up into his arms, kissing you with more passion than you ever thought possible. You slip your tongue into his mouth cheekily, tangling your fingers into his hair to pull him closer as he groans.

You finally pull away for air, both of you panting like you’ve just run a marathon. Your eyes well up suddenly, a tear falling without you realising.

“You okay?” he murmurs, thumbs rubbing circles into your cheekbones.

“I’m so happy,” you whisper. “I feel like today is the first day of the rest of my life.”

“So do I,” he agrees, looking down at you with so much love you it makes your knees buckle. “Baby… if you’re getting out, then I’m getting out.”

“Wait, what?”

“If you want to get out of Waystar, I’m not gonna stay. If you’re washing your hands of it, then I am too.”

“But… your money.”

“Honey, those shares don’t mean shit to me. The only thing that matters is you.”

You look at him intently for a moment, searching for any traces of doubt. All you find is pure adoration.

“Stewy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna keep that ring in the box forever?”

He throws his head back as he laughs, opening the velvet box to show you what’s inside. He slips it onto your finger with ease, the diamond sparkling perfectly on your hand.

“It’s so beautiful. I’m the luckiest person in the world, Mr Hosseini.”

“I think I have to disagree with you there, Mrs Hosseini.”

“Say it again.”

“Mrs Hosseini.”

“And again.”

He kisses you, mumbling against your lips.

“Mrs Hosseini.”

“Mhmm.”

“My wife. The prettiest girl in the world. Mrs Hosseini.”

You can’t help but grin into his mouth, buzzing with the energy of it all.

“Now, I was about to make dinner before you came home, but we can go out and celebrate if you want?”

You shake your head, snaking your arms around his neck.

“All I want right now is a night in with you - that’s all the celebration I need. Let’s make that pasta you like, and then we can watch old sitcom reruns on the couch.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Stewy slides his hand into yours, his thumb playing with the shiny band of the ring on your finger.

“It’s gonna be like this forever, you know. We get to do this for the rest of our lives.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you breathe, resting your head on his shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

As the sun sets through the floor to ceiling windows, you and Stewy dance across the kitchen, slipping and sliding across the tiles.

Your heart skips a beat every time your ring catches the light.

Your heart skips a beat every time you look at your fiancé.

Your heart skips a beat every time you realise that you’re not dreaming.

This is your life. And you’ve never been more excited to live it.

@justacaliforniandreamer @616wilsons @shawty-writes-a-little @isuspectitwasthenargles @thinemineours @buckysbae @jolie989 @allcheesemelts @nosebeers

[inknopewetrust]

wait you mean me [as in yes, me, kelsey] is actually writing again and is finally following through on her years long stewy x roy reader fic???

yes indeed.

how about an angsty, exes to lovers, lonely fic based around logan’s funeral

[richeeduvie]

hey👋 😊🤗

where’s wedding bells pt.2 😠😾🔫

Wedding Bells (Part Two)

Stewy H. x Reader, Roman R. x Reader (complicated), Kendall R x Reader (minor, minor as in what Baby was when she was groomed by him) here yall go damn!! (jk it's been long overdue after my failures I love u guys)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

PART ONE (OUT OF FIVE), AUTHOR MASTERLIST After assuring Roman that Stewy being your date was nothing but a platonic necessity for Shiv's wedding, the start of the night has decided on proving you wrong. It's much to your dismay...maybe not so much Stewy's (for the most part), but most certainly Kendall's. Knowing the aspects of the "DogandBone!AU" do help add content to both parts of this story, but you do not need to read anything prior to understand it. If you would like to, you can go onto my masterlist linked and browse through the masterlists/content of my succession characters. All are content for DAB!AU. Or you can simply search up the tag. (Stewy's POV next!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

The ceremony was beautiful, vows mandated. Knowing Tom as your technical boss, you're sure he wanted to say something from the heart. Knowing Shiv...Shiv, Shiv, your only girl friend Shiv...you know she wouldn't have that.

Roman took to looking bored next to Tabitha. You caught him making quips to her and you hate to wonder what he was saying, if he'd tell you the same things if you were his date.

Or maybe there's just some different with you that you wouldn't get the default comments out of Roman. Something just for you.

Maybe that's true for the past, before Tabitha and the now. You hate to think that, you think to not be over it already - you were asking Roman the what ifs of finding someone for you and you've got nothing to show for being ready to find that someone. That not-Roman.

Almost. Not really. No, you won't say you do have something to show for you. That something being taking looks at Stewy in the aisles.

Feeling your heart skip when he caught you taking those looks.

You were to not figure what the fuck Stewy was thinking at your stares when you were supposed to be gooey-goo over the new marriage of your friend. You were and are to not think about the way he met your eyes. You were to not notice the way Roman's head quickly, curtly snapped to follow where you were looking.

And now it's time for pictures!

"Has new, tanner dick brought you cause to lie to me?"

Roman kicks the grass, cut and too green underneath the both of you. What he's wearing isn't much different than his suits day to day at Waystar, but he looks nice. You don't know how to feel about how you don't feel the warm roll throughout your body at the sight of him handsome. Like he's not your boyfriend anymore.

He never was, he wasn't ever anything but the only person you've ever been in love with. Felt your loins on fire for, if you want to be gross about it.

You tilt your head.

"What?"

They're flashing pictures of just the bride and groom and it leaves Roman to whine to you on the sidelines. Stewy...in fact him and Kendall are nowhere to be found. You just know it's got something to do with whatever will ruin this family again. It'll be by tonight and forgiven in two weeks. At least the way you've grown into Roman over the years isn't something of a complete waste, you get understand the family you're working for for the rest of fucking time. Life.

Frank waves to you, you wave back.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

Roman's slapped your hand down mid-wave.

"You told me you just needed a date and you were too stupid to go with the obvious three-way Tabitha and I offered. Okay. I accepted that like I wasn't being fucked, but then you're fucking Stewy with your eyes, opening legs with your irises at my sister's wedding. Bridesmaid gangbang."

"...Are the bridesmaids gangbanging Stewy?"

Roman's brows are perpetually down, nose flared. You've shat on the grass, basically. The joke's bombed.

"You. Stewy...and his of color cock and his smarmy eyes. You think you can find out the number to his shaft shade by now? With all the times you've-"

Your eyes dart to where his fist opens and closes, then to where his neck rolls and head jolts. It's like a visual cough.

"Jesus Christ, you know what? Let me just not quip bullshit, I can be serious. I think I deserve that, maybe?" He sniffs.

And there it is...or there it isn't. No automatic, instinctual rush to comfort Roman and hold him or punish his insecurities with teases or insults punchier than his. Nothing.

Because you see Stewy coming up behind him.

You've always noticed he holds himself well, ever since you were younger. But now...no.

But then, you look into Roman's eyes, brown - facing rejection or no-care he's always so sure of. You sigh.

There it is. The rush.

Roman leans into your palm on his bicep.

"I'm going to ask if you've been keeping track of how many times you've ridden him. Or he's ridden you. You've taken to American Paint Horses."

"...When the fuck did you know pony breeds?"

"When you started fucking the brown kind."

Jesus. Roman.

"Roman! Fucking cool it. You're being...like, racist. Cartoonishly racist over something that you've made up in your head."

"It's not racist. Stewy's brown. Shocker. You went from me, not brown, to him. That's a fact. I didn't press negatives onto the color of his cock or our cultural differences in...fetishes."

Roman blinks, he turns to Stewy smiling at you before he's talking to Kendall.

"And did I make it up? Really."

You blink. You sigh.

It just slips out.

"You went from me to Tabitha. Should I whine?"

The words already leave a bad taste in your mouth once they leave it. They're not even particularly jealous-sounding, it's more of a casual tease to bite Roman and his hypocrisy. Still, it reeks on your tongue - it's a gag of admittance and by Roman's smug fucking face, you know he knows it too.

It's a slow growing smugness, too. First it's comprehension of what you said in the first place, then it's realization - life breathed onto his face.

Complete satisfaction.

....She still likes me. Wants me. Fuck it, knew it. Her vagina cares enough to be jealous. Knew it, knew it. Knew it. Thank God, I thought I was fucking done for and ready to be shot out back.

"I'm joking, but it's also a genuine question...because you're doing that over something you're making up in your head, Rom."

Roman puts his hands on his hips, lips pursing out.

"I just question the stares, you baby. That's all I'm doing. It's fair, they were like - fucky eyes."

No.

You don't know what they were.

"No. They weren't. And I-"

"Okay, now the family together!"

You turn to the photographer, Roman doesn't.

"I don't think you get to think over who I stare at, may-"

"Fuck you. Of course I do. I don't deny you from commenting on Tab's love for me as a result of pussy envy. I don't. I won't...and we..."

Roman turns to his family gathering, Shiv's blinking quick at him. It's like she's cursing at him to hurry the fuck up. He turns back.

"We can talk about it. Past the bullshit."

...Really?

"Really?"

The word on your tongue is more sarcastic than it is in your head. And there, in the pause...it's like Roman's pulling back from the openness of himself. Taking what he's put out away.

"Me and Tabitha and you...sure."

"...Mm. Shiv's waiting for you."

"Like, do I have to stop playing bits here and be fun for you to actually still have fun with me-"

"Roman, hurry the fuck up, dude! Seriously."

"Cool it! I don't care that it's your wedding, Shivy Ginge. I'll set fire to your minge."

He taps into his British roots there before he's off. Not before he kisses your knuckles, though.

"I just fucking miss you, weirdo. I want conversations. I just...I don't like...do things in spite - not towards you, even though you're being fucking weird. I don't make wounds and shove my dick into them as a gotcha."

It's said as he moves off. They take photos - the Roys...your Roys. You smile at Kendall when he smiles at you. Your thumb rubs your knuckle, you won't think about his kiss.

"Tabitha, just get it here."

But you don't think anything at all when they let Tabitha into the frame. It's easy for her. Rightfully so, but it's on your skin on a knife and you don't feel that's right.

But you don't feel it go away.

It hits you like the first time you cried as a child. It's a childish hurt and you can't make it go away as you watch the camera flash and Roys and Tabitha smile, as they bring Rava into the picture taking. Rightfully so.

It's a nail in the coffin, the confirmation what Roman has with Tabitha is real.

Your love, it still here thumping at your heart, is not.

Why are you about to cry?

"Hey, you."

You turn to the dark-haired, clean bearded man at your side. His knowing but soft voice.

"Hey, Stewy."

"What's with the glossy eyes?"

The burning is against the sudden, unwanted warmth you feel. You don't want to feel warmth at how Stewy's so close to you. You've been close to him before and nothing - nothing like what you feel with Roman.

But here, everything with what you feel with Roman. Maybe something new, something giddy that differs because Stewy isn't Roman, he's Stewy. He exists differently.

And now Roman exists away from you.

"Weddings, you know?"

Stewy smiles thin, brown eyes light.

"...Yeah. No. But even if it was yeah...I don't think it'd be Mr. and Mrs. Wambsgans getting me leaky. How's your legs from your formal-attire workout."

"...Upright planking?"

"Exactly."

You are sore. "It was a workout. At least I didn't have to listen to DIY vows. That would've been the real challenge."

Stewy leans you. You try not to breathe, you don't know why.

"I don't know, I think it'd be fun to see a Roy attempt romantics in public. Do you remember Ken's wedding with Rava?"

Yes. You won't be mean in your thoughts, genuinely.

"Yeah. The singing during the dinner was cute, I'm glad he chose to put that stunt there instead of the altar."

Stewy puts his hands in his pockets.

"Isn't that fucking right." His voice is warm, almost teasing - well...always teasing, even if the conversation is genuine. You know him well enough to know he's not fucking with you, laughing at you in the bore of small talk. It's just how he talks.

You also know him well enough to know his cologne is wearing off.

"You're not going to join the happy family photoshoot?"

"No. Have no reason to."

You and him haven't been facing each other in your talk, eyes to the Roy family with Tabitha and Rava as the reception beings to bustle inside.

You wonder if Stewy feels the tension too. If you're crazy - if you're childish for thinking he does or if you're both for feeling it yourself in the first place.

"That's a same, you're basically a fifth child. Which makes whatever you had with Roman incested. Which makes it less hot. I know, I'm weird, not...illegally weird, though. For the most part...so, the honorary incest is not hot, now that I think of it."

Stewy takes his hand out of his pocket. You see it out of the corner of your eye and you feel his touch on your back a couple seconds after.

You don't see how he pauses, you couldn't know how he thinks about how this touch is going to feel on his skin.

What the fuck happened, man? What happened that now things are...fucking coiling inside him. Like he's a boy - or no. Gross, cartoonish to describe it like...now it's just different with you. What fucking happened?"

Stewy smiles.

"You're perfume is disappearing on us. I don't want to be sniffing up on your sweat follicles while we're dancing, princess."

You shiver.

Why the fuck are you on fire in the best way possible?

"What a bore, right? Let's get inside."

Shiv fixes the waist of her dress.

"Yeah, honey. Photos are a bore, but important for our memoralization of our love...tonight, right? And I think we're supposed to let everyone go in first before we come crashing as bride and groom."

Photos are done. Everyone separates and even in the fire, you look to see if Roman's watching the flames. And....

Of course he is. But then you realize that you didn't tell Kendall that Stewy's your date. You didn't think you had to, but his eyes catching to where his best friend holds you is where you remember that yeah, Stewy's his best friend. The only reason why you know Stewy is because he's Kendall's best friend that he introduced when you were 14. You'll give him more leeway than you give to Roman. Even though it's still a date you needed, it must be weird for Kendall to see without context.

"I think you looked very beautiful up there."

You turn to Stewy, heart beating quick. Too quick for you to judge yourself for it.

"For Shiv's sake, I won't say you outdid her but...you were the closest bridesmaid to doing the out."

You smile to break away from that tension - between him and between how Kendall's hand drops from Rava's waist, how his eyes blink low from afar.

"You were examining all of us up there to figure that out?"

It's a joke you think warrants another smarmy-charming reply.

But all Stewy does is just hold his head up with something....serious along his face. Nothing under a tease, just eyes not blinking before he looks to the grass.

"No."

You can't stop your smile from falling before the photographer comes up to the both of you.

"Hey, you two want a photo? Cute couple."

"Oh, we're jus-"

"Sure. Have at us."

Stewy says it as charming as he says everything before he pulls you close by the waist.

"Oh, I can smell you better now. Smile, princess."

You do with every roll of fire on your skin. Your stomach turns over.

Maybe it's not childish...it's just new, it's just how you feel. What you hate is that you do, that it's Stewy. You have a right to new people, a new person to feel like this for...but not Stewy.

But it is, for some strange, new reason.

The camera shutters on you and him.

"Can I kiss you? It'll be modest. Cheeky."

It doesn't take you more than two seconds for it to slip out.

"...Sure. Yeah."

"Alright, yeah."

Stewy says it quietly before he kisses your cheek.

Oh, God.

The camera shutter, you might be...shuddering. You smile anyway. The photographer smiles too.

"Alright, make sure to catch the bouquet!"

They walk off and Stewy doesn't let go of you. You realize that he was holding it before the photographer came up for photos.

...Just breathe, just breathe.

And you do, Stewy's face doesn't stop you from breathing, you're able to breathe into it. Because of it - suddenly.

With his smile, with his smile.

...Maybe you'll indulge, maybe you have been indulging.

"I-"

You were going to, just before there's the sound of immense gagging. Vomiting.

"Fuck!"

"Rome?"

"Roman? What the fuck?"

Stewy turns to the commotion, brows rising up.

"Oh...oh. Fuck. That's disgusting."

It's Roman puking chunks onto the grass. Tabitha stands over him, complete ohs and rightful confusion on now knowing what to do. His father, Logan just looks completely disappointed.

Roman's hunches over. He's holding his head in what you know to be complete pain.

What the fuck?

"Roman?"

Of course, he doesn't answer you. You go to go up to him, but there's a hand on yours.

"I think we can go inside. Roman's vomit breath will meet us there, it looks like he's got enough people to check on him and his insides."

"I don't th-"

Even after everything, or because of everything, you still try and go to Roman. But Tabitha's hands rubbing his back stop you.

It takes the breath out of you.

Yeah, it's just...he'll meet you inside. Roman's got comfort, he decided it wouldn't be you and that'll stop hurting.

Roman will stop hurting a lot easier than you, you're sure. It'll be okay, you've got the rest of your life to take his insults of tonight.

"Okay, yeah. Let's go."

You hear the last of the gags as you and Stewy head inside to the start of the reception.

"I think they got my favorite desert, actually. I don't know how. If I'm feeling sultry and you're feeling consensual, I'll fork it into your mouth for you to try."

"...Sounds sultry. Okay"

You neither lean or move away from his hand on the small of your back. You let him pick something out of your hair.

"Roman, what the fuck? You okay, bro?"

"That was...you okay, son?"

You won't catch how Roman can't catch his breath. He can't recover. He can't come up from his knees. He actually lowers.

Tabitha's hands feels like bees, unfuckingfortunately. Roman crawls away and jolts at her palm finding him again.

"Stop! Just- it's fine. Stop. Sorry, sorry, Tab's. Dad, I'm good. I'm-"

He hacks. He can't breathe.

He knows why he can't breathe, but where are you? Where are the hands that actually feel like life digging back into his lungs?

Roman looks up.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

Where are you?

"Roma-"

Whoever's talking to him gets interrupted by more vomiting. He's choking on it.

"Oh fucking Christ. I'm going, I'm going inside, Pinky. Someone get him water. Absolutely disgusting."

He would say he doesn't know what he did, but he does. He just doesn't...but he's sorry.

Where did you go? Why don't you come back?

"Roman, baby-"

"Don't fuckin-I said! I said stop. Sorry, you'll touch me later. I'm sorry."

He really fucking is, but someone else will be. If Roman sees Stewy in there...the bullet in Roman's head will be his to blame. That'll make him feel better.

Roman wipes his mouth, his eyes. He sniffles.

"Are you cry-"

"No! Tabitha, stop! Shiv - go get banged, it's your wedding day."

He can feel eyes. So, he's right. Staring does mean things.

"Fuck off!"

[diana-foggy-master]

𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝟐

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏʀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ ɪꜰ ᴜ sᴀᴠᴇ

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

more icons from Succession on my Pinterest: HERE

[wambsgansshoelaces]

maybe general dating headcanons of the succession characters? like the type of partners/lovers they are? thx 😸

hi anon!! so sorry this is late AKDJSJF hopefully you like it x love u thank u for requesting <3

listened to “i see the light” on loop while I wrote this so now it’s the size of a oneshot

dating them (succession main cast)

Kendall

ᝰ idc what you have to say, words of affirmation is his TOP love language

ᝰ all the others apply to him but like

ᝰ that one is his favorite

ᝰ both to give and to receive

ᝰ he’s always making sure you’re happy

ᝰ in the moment and just in general

ᝰ and it’s like his world comes crashing down when you express you’re feeling insecure

ᝰ he’s your #1 supporter in self love

ᝰ once you’ve moved in together, he starts leaving you notes where he know’s you’ll find them

ᝰ things like “you’re loved” with crappy doodles of hearts and two stick figures that you think are supposed to be the both of you

ᝰ he likes treating you to nice things whenever he can

ᝰ fancy dinners, jewelry, watches, vacations

ᝰ he has the money; it’s not like he’s just going to NOT spend it on you

ᝰ and he’s your biggest advocate in everything

ᝰ sometime’s he’s lowkey rude about it

ᝰ like if your order comes out wrong at a restaurant

ᝰ he’s all “um, actually, no, this isn’t right”

ᝰ and you’re just “ken calm down”

ᝰ “no, you deserve the best, which is what you’re going to get.”

ᝰ maybe he’s not so much into kissing in public, but he’s always touching you one way or another

ᝰ he’s always holding your hand, or you’ve taken his bicep or elbow, or he has his hand on the small of your back, your hip, your shoulder

ᝰ the paparazzi is always around, and he wants you close and safe

ᝰ and he also likes that everyone can see that the two of you are involved

ᝰ committed to each other

ᝰ at the end of the day, he’s just happy you’re his

ᝰ you make him a better man

ᝰ and he’s eternally grateful that he has you

ᝰ he’s your big ol softie

Roman

ᝰ physical touch and quality time

ᝰ you spend all of your evenings together cuddled up and murmuring to each other about your days

ᝰ can’t cook for the life of him, but when he can, he makes you breakfast

ᝰ if your hair is long, he’ll learn to braid just so he can spend mor time with you

ᝰ under all the jokes he’s really just soft and sapp

ᝰ he treats you with so much car

ᝰ everything he does is thought out as to how you’ll receive i

ᝰ he only takes you out to dinner when he knows you’ll be able to have your favorite table

ᝰ he learns how to make different kinds of soup for you when you’re sick

ᝰ subtle pda king

ᝰ if you’re at dinner with his family, his hand’s on your thigh

ᝰ if you’re out walking in the street, he’s holding your hand

ᝰ if you’re lounging around on his dad’s yacht, his head’s on your stomach

ᝰ and he’s snoring but that’s not the point

ᝰ he loves just being with you

ᝰ he sits right up against you when you’re on the couch

ᝰ he lets you sit in his lap whenever you want

ᝰ his arm’s around you in every picture you take

ᝰ your cheeks smushed together in a bunch of selfies

ᝰ you’re his phone wallpaper

ᝰ work and home

ᝰ he loves talking about you

ᝰ at work galas he absolutely adores introducing you as his spouse

ᝰ or if you’re not there he asks “oh, do you happen to know my partner?”

ᝰ and then talks about you nonstop

ᝰ at a dinner you leave him to go get something for you both to drink

ᝰ before you make your way back, you spot him talking to a colleague

ᝰ he has his wallet out, and he’s showing the colleague something

ᝰ you get closer and realize it’s a picture of you

Shiv

ᝰ she treats you like a queen

ᝰ she’s a physical touch girl

ᝰ but really she loves words of affirmation

ᝰ and gift giving

ᝰ giving you gifts, specifically

ᝰ her favorite part of life after meeting you is spending lazy mornings in, cuddled up, kissing, touching

ᝰ she particularly enjoys going on long walks with you

ᝰ down piers, beaches, whatever

ᝰ her hand in yours, her eyes towards the sky

ᝰ she loves bringing things back for you from work trips

ᝰ or any trip she takes

ᝰ chocolates, matching bracelets, trinkets that remind you of her

ᝰ she makes all your days brighter

ᝰ one day on a visit to her office to bring her lunch, you find out there's literally seven framed pictures of you on her desk

ᝰ you are her phone wallpaper

ᝰ but she has it so it changes every time her phone closes

ᝰ so it's really thirty different photos of you are her wallpaper

ᝰ most mornings, she’s tucked up against you

ᝰ face buried in your neck

ᝰ it’s her favorite place to be

ᝰ just with you

ᝰ despite all of her peacocking and chest puffery, she just needs your support

ᝰ she needs you

ᝰ she needs her rock

ᝰ your love

ᝰ she tends to overthink and stress herself out

ᝰ but when things look like they’re going bad, she knows she can come to you

ᝰ and you’ll kiss her, tell her she’s beautiful, coo to her with that perfect voice of yours

ᝰ and suddenly everything is okay again

ᝰ for that, she knows you deserve the world

ᝰ she pampers you

ᝰ spoils you

ᝰ a tradition between the two of you is an annual trip down to the caribbean

ᝰ you both spend all your time out on the beach

ᝰ either splashing each other in the water

ᝰ or her curled up on top of you, skin pressed to yours

ᝰ she loves doing your hair and picking out outfits when you let her

ᝰ she loves doting on you when you’re sick

ᝰ she can’t bear it when you’re hurt

ᝰ but obviously won’t ever show it

ᝰ what she will show is how much she loves you

ᝰ everywhere you go, you feel loved

ᝰ she’ll never stop loving you

Tom

ᝰ mr. quality time

ᝰ literally does not care what you’re doing; he’s with you

ᝰ all he wants is to be with you

ᝰ you bring him peace

ᝰ his favorite pastime is cuddling with you in bed

ᝰ specifically with your jaw cupped in his hand, anchoring your head to his chest

ᝰ along with quality time, he’s huge on gift giving

ᝰ every week, he comes home with flowers

ᝰ and there’s always a fresh vase on your work desk

ᝰ he LOVES writing you notes

ᝰ love letters, even

ᝰ every new bouquet of flowers that show up at your work come with a heartfelt note

ᝰ in every single one, he tells you he loves you

ᝰ then writes about whatever it is he has going on in his day and how he’s thinking of you

ᝰ while he’ll never admit it, he loves pda

ᝰ specifically when you initiate it

ᝰ it makes him all smiley and happy

ᝰ he especially loves it when you’re hanging off of his arm at work things and he gets to show you off

ᝰ he just thinks you’re the most gorgeous person to exist ever

ᝰ he can never go to sleep without his arms around you

ᝰ he started wearing those nasal strips because he knows he snores and doesn’t want to keep you awake

ᝰ this man loves him a good restaurant

ᝰ but only if you’re there with him

ᝰ he can never get behind sitting across from you unless you’re in a booth

ᝰ he says that it’s more intimate when you’re sitting next to each other at a square table

ᝰ ALWAYS lets you eat from his plate

ᝰ if he ever ‘stoops as low’ (his words) as to go to a fast food place, he always asks if you want fries

ᝰ he knows to get you an order regardless otherwise you’ll just steal from him

ᝰ not that he cares anyway

ᝰ he also particularly loves watching the sun set with you

ᝰ something poetic about the sky almost being as beautiful as you

ᝰ you both try to watch it whenever you can

ᝰ because you only have so many days on this earth

ᝰ he wants to spend as many of them as physically possible with you

ᝰ you’ve noticed, though, over the sunsets, he doesn’t really pay attention to them after a certain amount of time

ᝰ he just stares at you

ᝰ and whenever you catch his eyes, they’re so full of love

ᝰ just for you

ᝰ only for you

Greg

ᝰ acts of service warrior

ᝰ LOVES doing things for you

ᝰ whether it be chores or bringing you coffee at work

ᝰ he likes feeling useful

ᝰ especially if he feels useful to you

ᝰ it’s a different sort of ecstasy for him

ᝰ you like buying him bracelets

ᝰ he wears them everywhere

ᝰ you’d gotten him an “i love my partner” (those like i <3 my gf) pin as a joke and he unironically wears it around on his waystar lanyard

ᝰ "yeah, my partner got that for me!"

ᝰ he’s a bit panicky and overthinks too much

ᝰ but he just has to look at you and his anxieties come under control

ᝰ he’s always running around, so he really enjoys just laying with you in bed

ᝰ he sleeps like a dying victorian child

ᝰ slumped over on you like the life was sucked from him

ᝰ he likes going on miniature adventures with you

ᝰ they’re nothing crazy; just dates that push him out of his comfort zone

ᝰ like kayaking

ᝰ you had to force him into the boat to go kayaking with you

ᝰ like physically

ᝰ yeah he’s scared, he doesn’t want to get hurt

ᝰ he doesn’t want you to get hurt

ᝰ but he hears you laughing and sees your gorgeous smile

ᝰ and that’s when he realizes he can just suck it up

ᝰ because he wants you happy

ᝰ he learns how to make those braided bracelets for you

ᝰ it’s a calming hobby, and he likes seeing them on your wrists

ᝰ he made something for you

ᝰ and you like it

ᝰ that’s all he could ever need in life

ᝰ he learns how to cook your favorite meals for you

ᝰ and he’s a surprisingly good cook

ᝰ his hyper vigilance over the food makes it come out almost perfectly every time

ᝰ unless he’s having a breakdown

ᝰ which happens less now that he’s gotten with you

ᝰ you make things calm

ᝰ he loves calm

ᝰ he loves you

Stewy

ᝰ he’s so extra

ᝰ literally every single love language under the sun is his favorite one

ᝰ showers you with little trinkets that just remind him of you

ᝰ if you collect something, he’s constantly gifting you specifically that

ᝰ he spends as much time as he can with you

ᝰ as long as he’s not working, he’s perfectly content just sitting in silence with you

ᝰ he’s a massive fan of the water

ᝰ may it be yachts, jetskiis, floating gazebos

ᝰ he likes making special dates out of things like that

ᝰ he wants you to feel like everything you do together is new

ᝰ he doesn’t want you getting bored

ᝰ he’s worried you will, actually

ᝰ if he buys you jewelry, it’s hella expensive

ᝰ and diamond studded

ᝰ if you’re a watch person, he’s even worse

ᝰ he buys you every watch you ever look at

ᝰ goes the most bananas over pda out of everyone

ᝰ internally, anyway

ᝰ he doesn’t make it kown, but his some of his favorite moments with you are when you’re both bustling through a crowd in italy or something

ᝰ but you’re clinging to each other so neither of you get lost

ᝰ did i mention he likes traveling

ᝰ he likes traveling

ᝰ and you’re the only person he’d ever even consider traveling with

ᝰ at night in greece, he discovers he likes the pinky holding thing

ᝰ he saw it on tiktok

ᝰ so when you’re walking back to your hotel, he hooks his pinky with yours

ᝰ and it becomes a thing between you two

ᝰ also is for some reason obsessed with giving you his jacket when you’re cold

ᝰ it could be below freezing and you already have a jacket on

ᝰ and he’d give you his blazer or coat anyway

ᝰ and he’ll stand there shivering with this dumb grin on his face

ᝰ it always ends with you two sharing a scarf

ᝰ you think he does it on purpose, just do be close

ᝰ just to have an excuse to have an arm around you

ᝰ and really, you’re right

ᝰ he just needs you

[hunzzzzz]

Kendall Roy Masterlist🫦

Fight for you : Kendall Roy x OC

Stuck with you : Kendall Roy x reader

Priorities : Kendall Roy x reader / Lukas Mattson x reader ( AO3 link)

Ken doll : Kendall Roy x Stewy Hosseini

Tell me sweet little lies (AO3 link) : Kendall Roy x OC

Also requests are now open ! I will try my best!

[just1riqht]

ROMAN ROY YOU ARE FREE AT LAST GO FROLIC IN THE MEADOWS MY SWEET BOY YOU DESERVE HAPPINESS AND LOVE

[616wilsons]

call it what you want

PAIRING stewy hosseini x roy!reader

PROMPT “why are you ignoring me?”

SUMMARY whenever stewy is at the office, he always stops by to say hello. but recently he has been walking right past you without saying a word. you’ve had enough.

TAGS @chaithetics @lukas-matsson @violentdelightsandviolentends

WARNINGS brief mention of drugs, fluff

WORD COUNT 3.1k

NOTES my first time ever writing an actual one shot! please go easy on me lol. if you would like to be added to my taglist please let me know! enjoy my loves 🩷

While you were the youngest Roy sibling, you still had an important role at Waystar Royco. You went into the office every day just like your brothers, Kendall and Roman. Your father had been grooming the three of you to be in the business for as long as you can remember. You were always more interested in the family business than your sister so you, Kendall, and Roman were the ones who were always in the office. You did a lot of what they did, go to board meetings, meet with investors and board members, organize offers on your father’s behalf, et cetera. Most of the board members would rather deal with you than your brothers and you took that seriously. So, when Stewy Hosseini suddenly ended up on Waystar’s board, your job got even more complicated.

You had known Stewy as long as he had known Kendall. They met in their first year of college, but you only met him in person when you were eighteen and they were twenty-three. As soon as you met him you were enamored. Not only was he one of the most attractive people you had ever seen, but he was also passionate and motivated, which were traits you looked for in relationships. You became good friends over the years, you knew he was always in your corner and vice versa. You crushed on him from afar, planning on never letting anyone know of your feelings. One, he was older than you, and two, he was Kendall’s best friend. He could only ever see you as Ken’s baby sister… right?

Fast forward to the present, Stewy was in the office more and more. You saw each other if there was a board meeting and always found time to talk. If he was visiting Ken, he would always stop by your office or find out where you were just to say hi. Always. Even if he just saw you the day before. He would end up staying for at least an hour because you both get caught up talking to one another. You always had great conversations with each other even if you didn’t always have similar interests. One day he was walking around with Roman at the office. To get to Roman’s office, they would have to pass yours. You saw them coming and anticipated Stewy, at least, smiling or waving. They just walked right past and entered Roman’s office. He’ll probably stop by after, you think and resume your work. After a while you heard him leave Roman’s office and you smiled to yourself, thinking he would stop in. He did not. He walked out of Roman’s office and walked directly to the elevators, intent on leaving. You frowned to yourself. Did he not see you? Or is he just busy? There is a board meeting tomorrow so you could talk then.

Stewy walked into the meeting right as they were about to start, so you didn’t get to talk beforehand. You tend to linger after the meetings anyway in case any of the members need you for something. At the end of the meeting, Frank did pull you aside to mention something. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Stewy leaving the meeting room. Sometimes he’ll leave and just go wait in your office, so you assume that’s what he’s doing now. You smile to yourself and then turn back to Frank. When you’re finished with your conversation, you head back to your office. You start racking your brain for things you have been meaning to tell him with a smile growing on your face only to walk past your office and find it empty. You halt and look around quizzically. You stop by your assistant’s desk, which is right outside your office, and ask her if anybody stopped by.

“Uh no, not just now,” she answers.

“Oh,” you reply. “Really?”

“Uh huh… Is everything okay? Are you looking for someone?” she asks as you look around the office.

“Uh… no. No, everything’s fine,” you flash her your signature “all good” smile and scurry on back to your office, leaving your assistant confused. She is used to your frantic-ness, so she watches you enter your office and then resumes her work. You plop down on the couch in your office with a sigh. Two days in a row? Is he really THAT busy? No way. Is he avoiding me? What did I do? You shake yourself out of your thoughts because you have work to do. You decide to wait it out and see what happens within the week.

He had been to the office twice more during that week and avoided you completely. You were fed up. What the hell did I do? Why is he being such a dick? You call him on Friday evening, and he doesn’t pick up. No way he is THAT busy. Fucking ass. Fine, if he wants to play that game, I can play that game! You in fact did not want to play that game but he started it. Yes, you’re aware that is childish, but your anger is blinding you and you’re feeling petty. The weekend passes and nothing else happens. There’s a board meeting on Monday and you decide to confront him afterwards. You were going to force him to talk to you afterwards. He can’t avoid you forever, right?

Though he can try. Once again, he timed his entrance to the meeting so he wouldn’t have to speak to anyone beforehand. He sits down silently, across the wide table from you, like always. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t look at you. At least not until you’ve scoffed under your breath and turned away from him. You don’t notice his eyes on you amidst your frustration towards him. You focus on Frank and Gerri and their agenda for today’s meeting. You even take notes while Stewy, unbeknownst to you, watches you. More like admires you, really. He’s in awe of you. He is sometimes perplexed on how a person like you can exist in a world as fucked up as yours. He knows it’s changed him, but it never seems to affect you. It overwhelms him, especially since he’s been seeing you in person regularly. Whenever there were stints of time in between your interactions, he could push the thoughts back, pretend they aren’t there. But as your encounters have become more frequent, so have his thoughts about you. He always thought of you, ever since you met. He would read a book or watch a movie and think she would like that, or she would hate that. He keeps a mental checklist of things he knows you like and whenever he sees anything pertaining to that thing, he thinks of you and smiles. He used to think that was special to your friendship. He didn’t have many female friends before you, so he had never experienced this before. It took him a while to realize that people don’t think about their friends that way. He doesn’t want to think of these feelings right now out of fear it’ll overwhelm him. He’s afraid to even open his mouth around you and have everything spew out. So, he avoids you. He knows it’s not right or smart but it’s the only thing he can think of doing right now without ruining everything. As soon as the meeting is adjourned, he’s out of his chair and heading for the door. You immediately move to follow him, ignoring the looks from Frank and the others as you do. You try to catch up to him as quickly and quietly as you can. When you finally catch up to him, you grab him by the arm and pull him into your office without saying a word.

“What the hell?” He turns to look at you. You don’t bother to answer and instead launch into the rant you had been practicing all morning.

“Did you get a new phone number?” You ask innocently.

“No?” He replies, confused as to why you’re asking.

“And your phone is working?” You continue.

“Yes...”

“And you’ve seen me in my office, right? You’re not going blind?”

“No, I am not going blind,” he sighs.

“Is anyone dying?”

“No, why the hell are you asking me-”

“So, you don’t have any good reason to be avoiding me then?” You finish. He doesn’t reply. You raise your eyebrows as if to say well?

“I haven’t been avoiding you-”

“Save it, Hosseini,” you cut him off immediately. You were tired of playing this game. “Are you mad at me or something?”

“No, why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know, I’ve been wracking my brain and I can’t think of anything. What the hell is going on? You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks without a good reason? Seriously? What the fuck?!” You’re starting to get frustrated at this point. You told yourself you would try to remain calm but when he’s looking at you like you're crazy, it’s a bit off-putting. He still hasn’t given you much of a response. You throw your hands in the air and turn away from him. He sighs and puts his hands on his hips.

“You want to know the truth?” he asks softly, causing you to face him again. You nod your head. Another sign comes from him, and he looks at the floor. “Because you drive me fucking insane,” he laughs under his breath. At first, you're not sure you heard him correctly.

“What?” You have never been more confused. “I don’t... What are you talking about, what did I do?”

“It’s not anything you did,” he says, eyes still on the ground. “It’s just you.”

Your forehead creases in confusion. “Okay... Then what-”

“I’ve been avoiding you because I’m afraid I’ll say something I’ll regret,” he exhales. He’s looking at you now, almost sad. You don’t understand.

“Like what? What could you possibly say to me that could be so bad?” You’re exasperated. “You just said I drive you fucking nuts, what am I supposed to fucking do with that?!” You’re shaking your head and starting to pace. He’s upset you; he worded things wrong. “Fuck,” he whispers to himself.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says, pointing between the two of you.

You turn to face him and breathe out a laugh, “You were doing just fine a week ago!” You stop pacing and look him dead in the eyes. “What the hell changed?”

“Nothing!” he says. He’s exasperated, too. “I just…”

He looks at you, trying to figure out how to word the next part. What he says now will affect your relationship from now on. There’s no going back.

“I don’t know how else to say it so I’m just going to... say it...” he begins. He takes a deep breath and briefly closes his eyes.

“Do you remember when we met?” he asks. You blink a few times, what does that have to do with-

“Yes,” you reply.

“I saw you in the house before Kendall told me who you were. I thought you were beautiful. I mean I still do but... that first time I saw you? I was head over heels already. And then I found out who you were and immediately shut those feelings down. Ken’s baby sister? No way, he would kill me, your dad would kill me, it couldn’t happen. But then I got to know you... and God I was fucking...” he lets out a deep breath.

“You have no idea the effect you have on people, Y/N. How important you are to people. To me.”

A beat passes.

“You’re important to me, too,” you whisper. He smiles and closes his eyes, that thing he does when he genuinely takes what you’re saying to heart. He knows that but it’s still nice to hear.

You’re afraid he’s going to end the conversation there. You take a step towards him and gently say his name, “Stewy-”

Before you can even think of something else to say, he says, “I’m in love with you.”

Now it’s your turn to take a deep breath. He takes that as a sign to continue. “I should have told you sooner but I... I didn’t realize what I was feeling, but I know now. It’s love. I love you, Y/N. I think I always have. You don’t have to say anything or feel the same way, but I owed you an explanation. And an apology. I’m so sorry for everything, especially for making you feel like you did something wrong. You didn’t, you’re... You’re perfect. I’m the asshole.”

When he’s finished, you stare at him for a bit with your mouth open. You then start to shake your head in disbelief.

“You’re an idiot,” you finally say.

“Probably,” he replies. “For what?”

You take a deep breath.

“I have loved you since the minute I laid eyes on you,” you tell him. His stance shifts and he is trying to process what you’re saying. “I just kept it to myself because I always assumed you only saw me as Ken’s annoying little sister.”

“Well, no, that’s Shiv,” he says causing you to laugh. Your laugh makes him smile. “But don’t tell her I said that because she's scarier than you.” You laugh harder.

“God are we really this stupid?” he asks while laughing.

“Speak for yourself, I know what I feel,” you reply. He’s smiling at you and begins to nod.

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

You smile at him. “Yeah, well...”

He’s shaking his head in disbelief. “Wait do you really... I mean is this... real? Is this really happening?”

“What did you think would happen?” you ask him.

“Honestly?” You nod. “I thought you would slap me and tell me to fuck off.” That pulls another laugh from you. Eventually he joins in.

“This is real,” you say. “At least, it is for me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. And believe me, I have tried.”

He smiles, “I know. Me either. I mean, you’re it for me. I think I’ve always known that, but I just hadn't accepted it until recently.”

You nod. He takes a step closer to you and takes one of your hands in his. “So... what now?”

“We should probably talk about what all this means, at some point.” He nods in agreement and takes your other hand. “Um, we’ll have to decide if we want people to know... Because that could be tricky business wise. And we’ll have to tell Kendall and my dad, at some point. I don’t think they’re going to be happy but, whatever. We’ll have to inform the board, Sandy, and Sandi, talk to HR-”

“Y/N?” he stops you.

“Hmm?”

“You’re overthinking again.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it is one of the many things I love about you.” He’s practically beaming as he says this which causes you in turn to beam at him. You move closer so his hands are on your waist and yours are on his shoulders. You look at him.

“Say it again,” you whisper. “Please?”

He doesn’t even need to ask what you mean. He tightens his hold on you and looks into your eyes.

“I love you.”

Your face hurts from smiling. He smiles back at you.

“I love you, too,” you tell him, and he breaks out the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him.

You’re both still beaming at each other when he gently rests his forehead on yours and takes a deep breath.

After a beat he asks, “Can I... can I kiss you?”

“You better,” you tell him, and he tips his head back to laugh. He looks at you and brings a hand to cup your cheek. He searches your eyes for any hesitation and slowly leans in. He gently presses his lips to yours and somehow, it’s even better than either of you had ever imagined. After a moment you break apart and you giggle. He smiles and moves back in to kiss you, his hand firmer on your face. You both can’t stop smiling. You keep the kiss relatively short and tame. When you break apart again, he has your face in both hands and your arms are under his.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight so we can talk?” he asks you.

Before he can even finish the question, you are saying yes.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I would love that,” you tell him.

“Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Perfect.”

“Good,” he’s smiling and leaning back in to kiss you when there is suddenly a knock on the door causing you both to freeze. You can’t see who it is from your position, so you untangle yourself from Stewy and go over to open the door. He sighs as your warmth leaves him. You open the door to your brother, Roman, looking a little pissed. You open the door just wide enough to where he can’t see Stewy in your office.

“Oh, hey Rome, what’s-”

“It’s noon,” he says cutting you off.

“Okay...”

He widens his eyes and then it hits you, you were supposed to meet your brothers for lunch at noon.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see the time,” you tell him.

“Are you still coming or what cause I will go without you if I have to,” he says, talking one hundred miles a minute.

“Uh,” you quickly look back at Stewy to gauge his reaction. He is shaking his head no. You turn back to your brother, “Actually, can we rain check? I accidentally double booked my lunch today and-”

Roman waves you off, “Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever. Oh, have you seen Hosseini around?”

“Uh not since the meeting,” you lie, which you’re not very good at. You’re grateful it’s Rome asking you and not Kendall because he could read you like a book. Rome would rather use his energy elsewhere, like kissing up to dad.

“Okay, let me know if you see him,” Rome adds. “I wanted to ask him if he knows any coke dealers in Prague.” And with that, he turned around and left. You are trying to process what your brother just said about cocaine when you feel the door being pushed closed from behind you. Stewy pressed a hand above your head on the door to close it. You turn to face him, and he has a devilish grin on his face. His free hand snakes around your waist and he asks, “Now, where were we?” before sealing his lips to yours again.

[jason-todd-is-a-real-mood]

Me starting succession and Stewy and Roman come on screen :

[nicolettemarionette]

Business with Pleasure (PART 2)

Pairing: Kendall Roy x Reader x Stewy Hosseini  Description: Kendall takes up his old pal's offer to share his lover. (Part 1) Word count: 2.5K-ish Rating: SMUT (more under the cut) 

Warnings: Cursing, smut, age-gap, exhibition, teasing, M/M/F threesome, oral (M and F receiving - Kendall Roy eats pussy like a champ), deepthroat PIV, protected sex

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I would say it's worth it! Enjoy ;) 

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"Come on, it'll be just like old times."

Kendall tilts his head, looking past his friend to search your face for a moment, wondering if you're lust drunk or just fucking wasted. Then, he decides he doesn't really care. "Fuck it, yeah."

"Atta boy, sit down," Stewy claps his hands together, then scoffs at Kendall, who's chosen to sit about a foot away from you, hands glued to his suit pants. "You want anything...something to drink?"

The CEO hesitates, tempted, then shakes his head, "Uh no, I'm...I'm good."

"You sure? Cos you look a little tense." His voice is teasing, his hand moving to rest against your waist, "Don't you think, sweetheart?"

You hum in agreement, more than excited on how this is going to play out. Stewy's little smirk has your heart flipping, "Why don't you go...help Ken relax a bit?"

"Okay."

You crawl over to him, settling between his legs and looking up at him through your lashes. Your hands find their way to his thighs, a ditzy smile slipping onto your lips at the way his muscles tense under your touch. 

Kendall falters, "You...you're going to uh..?"

Stewy answers him before you can, "She's gonna suck your dick. Do you need me to hold your hand, bro?"

"Uhh no, fuck off," Kendall brushes off the sarcasm, adam's apple bobbing as your fingers move towards his zipper.

Stewy laughs, holding his hands up, "Okay, just thought I'd offer."

Kendall's hips lift as you tug his briefs down, his cock bouncing against his taught skin. You maintain eye contact with him, wrapping your hand around his girth, stroking him slowly. He groans, head dropping back, spreading his thighs further apart to give you more room.

You press your tongue flat against the underside of his length and the moan that falls from his lips has you clenching around nothing. Who knew Kendall Roy was so sensitive? 

With a confidence that's probably inspired by the amount of alcohol in your system, you take him deeper into your mouth, feeling his cock twitch at the sensation. Kendall groans, half-lidded eyes fluttering as he watches his length continue to disappear past your lips slowly, "Fuck, you're good at this."

His praise has you whimpering around him, sending vibrations through his cock. Your cheeks hallow as you speed up, taking him further each time until the head of his cock nudges the back of your throat. 

The action has him clenching his fists, resisting the urge to buck his hips up and force you further down on his cock. Instead, he chokes out, "Oh...fuck, take it. Good fucking girl."

Again, your body heats at his words and Stewy smirks knowingly, palming himself at the way your thighs rub together incessantly. He decides to speak up again, "Pull her hair; she goes fucking crazy for it."

"Uh...really?" Kendall looks to his friend for confirmation, but the brunette merely offers a sly grin.

Taking that as his green light, Kendall's hand finds its way into your hair, tugging slightly then harder when you moan. He uses his grip to guide you back down, helping you move against him. 

You keep one hand on his thigh, steadying yourself and use the other to play with his balls. Just as his hips begin to stutter, Stewy clears his throat, "Alright, let's not blow your load before you get to dessert."

Kendall's reluctant to release his hold in your hair, but does as he's told. You get to your feet shakily, accepting a hand for support. You're not expecting the CEO to cup your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. Still, you reciprocate it eagerly, opening your mouth and letting his tongue slip in, the taste of him mingling with saliva.

"Come here," you break away at Stewy's voice, turning to face your lover with a bashful smile, which he returns warmly. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his toned forearms, a sight that always has you biting your lip. His hand slowly slides up the material of your dress, "You know, I hate this fucking dress."

Your brows furrow, voice a pitch higher, "I thought you liked it."

"I did," he starts, then pinches at the seam between his fingers, "but now...I hate it." In one swift movement, the fabric's torn, falling to the ground in a pool around your legs. You're left standing in only your panties, exposed nipples hardening under the attention.

The sound of ripping silk is loud but the two men still hear your gasp, Stewy letting out a laugh at your reaction while Kendall's at least nice enough to bite back his amusement. "Stewy!" You narrow your eyes at the former, "That was vintage Chanel."

There's not a hint of remorse as he cups your breasts, but as his thumbs brush against your nipples, your back arches and you can feel your resolve crumbling, something he notes. His voice is mocking as he turns to his friend, continuing his teasing touch, "You hear that, Kendall? That was Chanel!"

"Vintage Chanel," the taller man corrects, eyes crinkling playfully. He steps closer until you're sandwiched between them, then he nods assuredly, "Yeah, he'll buy you another one."

Stewy caresses your skin, "That's fucking right, I always do." He lifts your chin, kissing you sweetly and you melt into him, sighing contentedly. You'd come to appreciate the finer things in life; being pressed against two of the most powerful men in the city coupled with the promise of a shopping spree has you weak in the knees.

"You good, man?" Stewy quips, once he's broken from your lips.

Kendall's hands tentatively find your waist, thumbs tracing over the dips in the soft skin, "Yeah, fuck yeah. Just uh...enjoying the view."

"Like what you see?" He spins you so that you're facing Kendall, who's lowering his head to drink you in. Stewy moves your hair to your shoulder and licks a stripe up your neck, making you whine in need.

Kendall makes a noise of affirmation, then, "Fuck! Can...can I uh...?" His voice breaks, and fuck it drives you crazy - having someone with so much power sound so desperate for you. You're unsure of what he means to do, but one look over your shoulder at how Stewy's eyes darken has you shivering in anticipation.

"You wanna eat her out? Go ahead."

That's all it takes for him to drop to his knees before you, your eyes widening at the action. He presses hot kisses to your inner thighs, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands trail your skin before meeting lace. Instead of pulling your panties down, he presses his lips to your stomach, then those brown eyes look up into yours, searching for your approval, "Is that...is that okay?"

"Yes," your voice is heavy, your breaths coming too fast. It's all so much and not enough; you run your fingers through his short hair to encourage him to carry on. 

It seems to work as he pulls the flimsy lace down, lifting your legs gently to get them over your feet. But it seems he needs more, taking a deep breath that makes you shudder, "You want me to touch you?"

You nod fervently, groaning when you hear Stewy tut behind you, "Use your words, sweetheart."

"Want you, please Ken," you struggle to get the words out, hips already chasing his touch.

He rewards you by moving his hands around your hips until they rest on your ass, surely brushing against Stewy's bulge, directing rhetoric toward his pal, "How can I say no to that?"

But before you have a chance to ponder how close the pair really are, his tongue has you bucking your hips, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

Kendall's no slouch at eating pussy - he's always strived to be the best at everything he does and this is no different. He'd gotten plenty of practice, with girls in college throwing themselves at him with the mere mention of his legacy name. And who was he to deny them the pleasure of said name?

He spreads open your pussy lips with his fingers before moving his tongue to trace a wet 'K' over your clit. He licks the letter again, his pretty eyes watching your face as you writhe and contort with blinding pleasure. 'L' has you tugging at his dark hair, back arching against Stewy, who's supporting your frame with a comforting grip on your shoulders. His 'R' is quick and messy and he's practically lapping your pussy at this point, feeling more than cocky as you cry out, grip tightening on him.

"Oh fuck!" 

Stewy places a chaste kiss to your skin, then mutters into your ear. "You like that?"

"Yes! So good," the shrieks are barely understandable and if Kendall's face wasn't buried between your thighs, he'd smirk.

The man behind you hums, "Better than me?"

Kendall seems to take this as a challenge, lips fastening over your clit, thick fingers slipping embarrassingly easily into your pussy and curling up towards your navel. His free hand settles on your lower stomach, pressing slightly so that you can feel the coil of pleasure tighten.

You all but scream, spasming around his fingers. The pleasure is searing and apparent, Kendall feels you shudder against his tongue, groaning. He slows his pace, softly licking through your orgasm until you push his head away, panting heavily.

He gets to his feet, face coated in your arousal, self-satisfied grin on his face, "You didn't uh, answer the question."

It takes a moment for you to process his words, and you stutter, "I-I-"

"She wants me to fuck her so bad she can't even talk," Kendall teases, shrugging to Stewy cheekily.

Stewy doesn't bat an eyelid, matching his smile with vigour, "Well then, better give her what she wants."

"You got a-"

He's thrown a condom before he can finish, Stewy having fished it out of his pocket while he was watching you get eaten out by his best friend. You clutch onto Stewy's arm, pulling him to kiss you. He reciprocates immediately, it's soft and completely not indicative of what's to come. 

Stewy pushes you gently, and you stumble against the couch while he stands in front of you. You look up at him, eyes wide. 

"You're a fucking mess, sweetheart," the words are harsh but uttered adoringly, his finger pushing past your swollen lips. You suck on it instinctively and he lets out a low groan, "And I love it. Now, do you want Ken to fuck you?"

You nod enthusiastically, not bothering to remove your lips to answer verbally, something he playfully rolls his eyes at, "Good. Then I want you to open up for me."

Stewy unbuckles his belt lazily and props one knee up on the couch across from you, his other boot firmly planted on the floor. You roll onto your stomach, crawling over to him, aware of Kendall's presence behind you. Bare skin presses against yours and you're aware that he must've discarded his shirt somewhere, your imagination running wild. 

You fumble with Stewy's boxers for a second before freeing his cock. His fingers wind into your hair, stroking the soft strands appreciatively. You press your lips to the head of his cock, kitten licks teasing the head of it while Stewy hisses in a breath, "Don't be a fucking tease."

His hold in your hair tightens in response, groaning when you finally take him in your mouth. Unlike Ken, Stewy's eyes remain fixated on his favourite sight - you look so beautiful like this, eyes watery, cheeks hollowed, lips red and swollen. You always struggle to swallow down his cock and he smirks, bucking his hips up a bit, just to fuck with you. You gag slightly, saliva mixed with his precum drooling from your lips.

"Are you just going to stand there?" His voice is strained as he addresses Kendall, who mutters a 'no'.

One hand grips the flesh of your hips, the other guiding his cock as he drags it through your folds, collecting your wetness. You whine around Stewy's cock when Kendall's grazes your clit, his hold on your hair not letting you pull away. Then, he lines himself up, pushing slowly into you.

"Fuckkkk, is this okay?" Kendall asks, swallowing thickly at the sight of your pussy stretching to accommodate him.

You moan something around Stewy's dick in affirmation that's barely intelligible and Kendall can't help the soft laugh that falls from his lips. Though it quickly turns into a raspy groan when Stewy ruts into your mouth, sending you towards him, your hips almost flush with his, the head of his cock pressing almost painfully into your cervix. You spasm around him and he hisses, you're full, so fucking full.

You brace one of your hands on Stewy's thigh, the other one at the base of his cock, and relax your throat as he starts to fuck your mouth deeper, hitting the back of your throat each time. He realises Kendall's watching his cock push in and out of you with a dazed expression, like he's still in awe of the situation. Stewy's smirk returns in full force, "How is it?"

"Fuck! So fucking tight," is all he manages to bite out, now using his grip on your hips to thrust into you at a steady pace. You feel a familiar heat pooling in your stomach, and grind harder into him, desperately.

"You like this?" Stewy pats your cheek lightly to get your attention and your eyes jerk up to meet his, tears falling now, "Sucking my dick while you're fucking my best friend?"

Fuck. His words are hot, teasing, and enough to push you over the edge, clenching around Kendall in a way that has his own hips stuttering, his fingers digging into your skin harshly.

Stewy lets out a low groan, body tensing, "Gonna come all over this pretty little face." 

He pulls his cock from your lips, hand closing around it in place of your mouth. His hips jerk up and creamy ropes shoot from his cock, hot against your skin. The noise you make in response coupled with how your pussy is gripping Kendall like a fucking vice is enough to shatter the last of his self control and he pins you mercilessly to his hips as he comes.

When he finally removes himself, you all but collapse into Stewy's waiting arms, chest heaving. Your lover looks down at you, a soft smile on his lips when you open your eyes and look at him.

"You good?" he asks quietly, and you respond with a barely audible 'yeah'. 

You smile up at him, eyes hooded and hair a mess, voice clearer this time when you conclude, "That was fun."

Stewie chuckles, winking at Kendall who's politely handing you bottled water, "Agreed, we'll have to do it again sometime."

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A/N: This took forever to write but I'm quite happy with the way it turned out, and I hope you are too. Again, any feedback is much appreciated. I've also tagged anybody who asked for a part 2 on this, hope that's okayyy

Taglist:

@mystical-apollo, @foreverasleep717, @maraschinodreamo, @justlikehoneyxo, @jinxedthejinx, @jolie989

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Clandestine.

You and Stewy know it’s wrong. So why, pray tell, does it feel so right?

Part Two. Part Three. Part Four.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x female Roy reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, allusions to sexual content

Word Count - 1.5k

Author's Note - in honour of stewy's beautiful appearance in episode 2, please enjoy this!! hoping and praying we get to see a hell of a lot more of him this season <3

Series Masterlist.

Masterlist. Requests.

You’re bored.

To the outside eye, life as a Roy is a dream. Money, cars, designer clothes, big fancy galas filled to the brim with millionaires. It sounds ideal.

It isn’t. Between family drama, backstabbing and betrayal, and directionless small talk, being the youngest Roy sibling is a stifling job. But someone has to do it. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Tonight, you find yourself at another Waystar Royco charity gala. The ballroom downtown sparkles with diamonds, champagne flowing and expensive perfume overwhelming. It’s another mandatory job on your list. Attend, smile, wave, make polite conversation, rinse rich men for their money and leave. Simple.

Or so you thought.

You arrived with Roman and Kendall, the both of them immediately separating and making their way to friends and business partners, leaving you stood alone. Fingertips brush the skin of your back that’s exposed by your dress, sending a shiver down your spine.

You smell him before he enters your eyeline. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood. He smells expensive. Not the faux, gawdy expensive like most men in the room, but genuinely luxurious. His cologne makes you dizzy. You reach out and hold onto the edge of the table in front of you before you lose your balance.

You feel him before you turn around. He’s warm, and broad, and the crisp white material of his dress shirt is pressing into you. You gasp quietly at his boldness, praying that no one sees the youngest Roy so close to a sworn enemy.

Stewy Hosseini.

Kendall’s third oldest friend. Both a rival and an asset to your family. One of the biggest assholes in New York City.

The man you’re hopelessly in love with.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You honestly hadn’t meant for it to go this far.

Originally, it was sex. Brilliant, mind blowing, earth shattering sex.

Until it wasn’t.

Now, it’s late night phone calls and clandestine meetings and holding hands and apartment hunting and kisses on the forehead. Now, it’s real. It’s become something undeniable.

They’d kill you if they knew.

They’d murder you both. You’d be shunned. Stewy would be dropped and cut from Waystar Royco like he never meant anything in the first place. Your inheritance would be taken away, all Roy privileges revoked.

Basically, it’d be hell. So why do you keep finding yourself considering it?

You’ve never been loved like this. So total, so complete, so all consuming. So unconditional. It’s no secret that the Roy siblings are strangers to love. But not anymore.

Now, you know love. You wake up to love and kiss him on the small patch of skin on his cheek where his beard won’t grow. You dance with love in the kitchen, allowing him to spin you around in your socks, catching you when you slip. You see love across the boardroom, communicating with him silently, having full conversations with just your eyes.

They can deny it all they want, but you know the truth. This is what love is supposed to be. They’re scared of it because it’s unfamiliar. It isn’t material. They’re terrified of love because they can’t touch it, or mould it, or manipulate it. They’re petrified.

You ran into love headfirst, unwittingly. Would you have slept with Stewy that night, well over a year ago, if you’d have known this is how it’d turn out? You’re not sure, honestly. But all you know is that no matter what they say when they inevitably find out, none of it matters. Love is real. And it is astounding.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You with me, sweetheart?” he murmurs into your ear, warm breath raising the hairs on your neck.

“Yeah, baby,” you mutter back, attempting to keep a neutral expression on your face. “I’m here.”

“Where did you go, huh?”

His fingers journey down, brushing over your ass. He gives it a squeeze before stroking it up your hip, resting his hand on your waist.

“Just daydreaming,” you reply.

“About what?” he asks teasingly, caressing your skin in gentle motions. Back, forth. Back, forth. He’s making it hard to concentrate.

“You,” you whisper quietly. He hears you loud and clear. “Always you.”

He wants to kiss you. God, he wants to kiss you. He wants to grab your face and smash his lips to yours, consequences be damned. He wants to pick you up and twirl you around and scream “look at the woman I love!”.

Instead, his fingers tighten on your waist. He looks around carefully before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the spot just below your ear. Then, he moves to stand in front of you. To anyone else, it looks like two old friends having a conversation.

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful in that dress,” he tells you, his voice laced with sincerity and admiration. His eyes are raking up and down your frame. The heat of his gaze is making you warm.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Hosseini,” you tease. That’s an understatement. His suit fits him like a glove, perfectly tailored to all of his curves. It’s all crisp edges and careful lines. He’s wearing the cufflinks you got him for his birthday, the ones engraved with the both of your initials. The letters are small, tucked away on the underside. No one knows they’re there – your little secret.

Stewy winks at you and goes to take a step forward, but a hand on his arm stops him. A gorgeous woman with flowing brown hair and a silk gown appears at his side, smiling at you politely before turning to him.

“There’s a couple of guys over there asking where you are. They want to talk about the Williams deal.”

He gives you a look drenched in apology before allowing himself to be dragged away. He takes all of the warmth with him, leaving you stood in the ballroom, cold and alone.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You knew he was bringing a date. It’d been a point of discussion the night before.

“We have to keep up appearances, Stewy. It makes sense. I know it doesn’t mean anything, okay. I’m not worried,” you reassure him, carding your hands through his hair. He’s lying with his head in your lap on his couch, eyes closed and brows scrunched. You smooth your thumb over the crease in his forehead, before kissing the spot gently.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he sighs defeatedly. The idea of having some random supermodel on his arm at the gala is killing him. What he wouldn’t do for it to be you.

“It’s only one night, baby,” you soothe gently. “I’ll come back here afterwards. It’ll be a couple of hours at most. You know people are going to talk if Stewy Hosseini, the most eligible bachelor of New York, turns up without a date.”

He chuckles heartily, and the vibrations settle in your bones.

“One night,” he agrees. “Just one night.”

With that, he sits up, cradling your face in his hands. He kisses you softly, carefully. He’s so tender with you. No one else in the world gets to see him like this. No one else gets to see him vulnerable. He likes it that way. You do too.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

There’s a pull between you and Stewy. It’s like a magnetic force, dragging you together no matter where you are, or what you’re doing. You feel it in the monotonous board meetings. You feel it at the family events he’s reluctantly invited to by Kendall. You feel it now, as you float around the ballroom, praying for the night to be over.

You allow your mind to drift away, dreaming of what awaits you later tonight. You can picture it perfectly. You and Stewy, curled up in bed, his penthouse bedroom illuminated by candlelight. Glasses of wine discarded on the night stand, sheets thrown across the mattress, legs tangled together. Skin pressed to skin, warmth seeping into your bones. Gentle melodies filling the room, the man underneath you humming softly into your ear. This is heaven, you’ll think. Bury us like this, please.

You can feel when his eyes are on you. Heat prickles over your skin, goosebumps rising. It’s become like a sixth sense, this silent communication between you. You catch his gaze and wink, and you swear you see him blush slightly. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and nods in the direction of the door. You get the hint, and follow him, trailingly behind subtly.

You reach the hallway and look around, but Stewy is nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, you feel a warm grip grab your hips, pressing you into the wall.

“Been waiting to get my hands on you all night,” he murmurs into your ear lowly.

He’s trailing his fingers up and down your sides. You can feel him, hot and hard behind you, groaning as he bites at your throat. He kisses the hinge of your jaw, and then your cheek. It’s forbidden and it’s sexy and it’s so gentle it makes your knees wobble.

“Come home with me,” he begs. “Let’s blow this off and get out of here.”

The offer is tempting. So, so tempting. But you know people would put the pieces together. Stewy leaves, you leave… suspicions arise. As easy as it would be to just say fuck it and tell everyone, you want to keep this a secret for a little longer. You want to stay in this little bubble of warmth and love and trust a little longer. You want to stay happy a little longer.

“We can’t,” you whine. “They’ll notice.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he replies. “You shouldn’t either.”

You want to disagree, but the way he’s moved his hand to sit at your throat while pressing himself into you is making it hard to think.

“Live a little, baby,” he teases, nipping at your ear.

“Fine! Fuck, fine. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

He grabs your hand, giddy smile etched on his face. He’s practically running with you to his car, dress flowing in the breeze behind you, heels clacking against the marble floors. You tumble into the backseats, his lips pressed to yours as you make your way home. Home.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your eyes blink open, sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. You’re resting comfortably on Stewy’s chest, both of his strong arms wrapped around you. You yawn sleepily, wondering what’s awoken you.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Oh. That. You check the clock on the nightstand, realising that it’s only 7am. On a Saturday. Who’s knocking on the door at 7am on a Saturday morning?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Fuck, is the noise getting louder? You nudge Stewy carefully, waking him.

“There’s someone banging on your door,” you whisper.

He groans and untangles his legs from yours. He throws on a pair of boxers, and moves to investigate the source of the knocking. You listen intently, curious to know who’s trying to gain Stewy’s attention so determinedly.

The door swings open.

“Ken?” Stewy questions, and you can almost hear the fear in his voice.

“Hey, man. Where the fuck is my sister?”

[inknopewetrust]

howdy everyone waiting on my Stewy fic

you’ll be happy to know it is still being worked on and I am incorporating this season to be very much a piece of it.

And I’ve been using a good ol’Lizzy McAlpine classic to guide it… I’m sure you can guess which one

[richeeduvie]

But what if during the Tabitha era Baby and Stewy went together to Shiv’s wedding? Or any event really. Maybe they even just went as friends. Maybe not. But none of Roman’s bullshit and threats would work on Stewy.

Wedding Bells (part one)

Stewy x Reader, Roman x Reader (complicated)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

You asked Stewy to be your date to Shiv and Tom's wedding, a simple choice to not be lonely in the face of love - and Roman with Tabitha, as much as Roman's suggestion to continue having sex and climbing into bed with you while he's with her would cure the loneliness in the first place. But then, a bit played out a hundred times before is all it takes to make the choice desperately more difficult for you and Stewy, as well as giving a long overdue, torturous experience to Roman.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Stewy's been sweet. Fun - in the hour of him being your date to Shiv's wedding. Roman will find out eventually and you know it'll be hell. It'd be hell if you had any other date, but him being Stewy? He'll tell you you're killing him. For a moment, you'll want to kill Roman - claw at him for being hypocritical. He's with Tabitha, he got with Tabitha after everything.

But then you'll remember...that's fair. There is no after everything. What you and Roman have been for nearly your entire lives is just...love - and sex and a neediness, an obsessive that Roman must've outgrown. It's nothing of commitment, officiality. And he picked Tabitha. And Tabitha's good, she likes to run her fingers through your hair, and you wouldn't have picked anyone else for him.

So, you'll let go. You have to, because you can feel yourself wanting to give in at the way Roman still grabs at you, asks for you. You have to stop letting yourself sigh and hold him when you wake up to him climbing into bed with you. You wonder if Tabitha wonders when he is when he does that.

You'll take Stewy as your date, because it's Stewy. And every other maybe-date seems to just not...want you. Always suddenly too. What a thing to make a woman feel good about herself.

"Jesus."

You fail to not blush remembering when you asked Stewy.

"Oh. Honey, how long have you been in love with me?"

"I just need a date! And you're coming..."

And his stare, smug to match his smile.

"Shut up!"

"I didn't say anything, princess."

"Your eyes are bullying me."

He's still the same as when you were fourteen and he was Kendall's quick-humored, ostentatious best friend. Almost, Stewy's a business negative to be your wedding date, but he's still bullying you - ruffling your hair like you're fourteen, you blush like you're fourteen. Jesus. Anything, anyone of Kendall's seemed so intimidating. Though, Stewy's just more ridiculous than anything now.

There's hands grasping your shoulders.

"Which one of us is gonna catch the bouquet?"

"...Oh my god."

"Which one of us is getting pregnan-"

"Stewy. Your head is blown."

"I think I could manage child-baring hips. But let me stop with the disgusting talk. I heard they're taking photos before the ceremony. You should be there."

"What are you even doing in my room?"

"I need to match my tie with your dress. And you're a bridesmaid. You should be there with the bride."

"I'll be there. And you saw the other bridesmaids - it's a greenish...blue. I picked them out with Shiv."

To be honest, you don't know any of the other women Shiv picked to stand beside you. They all seem nice, but you'd rather not think about how you've come to know so little about your childhood girl best friend.

"You have awful taste, but you're the prettiest. I'm saying that because I want to, not because you're my date and I have morals. But finish up with the earrings, I don't need a coward on my arm, even though I'm pretty sure you haven't told anyone I'm your date. And I have to talk to Kendall."

"Coward?"

"Roman's pathetic, but he's not gonna bite you. Not in public, anyway."

...You wouldn't carve Stewy's words in stone. But you get his point. And you're a coward with a question. It makes you feel pathetic, a child who can't let go - because the answer, whether you like what it'll be or not, won't change anything.

"Why didn't you tell me I have a piece of fluff in my beard? I understand what having me next to you the entire night will do to your insecurities, but you don't need to sabotage me."

In the mirror, you watch Stewy pick out something from his beard. He flicks his fingers on your shoulders.

"Stewy."

"Mhm?"

You blink.

"...Did Roman say anything to you at Tom's bachelor party?"

You watch him in the wide glass with a burning feeling on your chest. His eyes go up, almost half of an eye-roll before he looks at you.

"You know, kid. I always thought he was going to...how do I say this without making college-aged me sound like a fucking freak?"

Stewy's face feigns wonder.

"I always thought he was going to purposefully have a child with you. before you graduated."

You swallow. Stewy leans in and over, playing with a jeweled necklace on the clean, slick wood of the dresser.

"A mistake on every technicality, but it would've been purposeful on his end. But to answer your question...actually, I don't think I have one for you that matters. At best, I can see a vague image of me talking to this lady in a spacesuit, who I think was hot? Good on me for seeing past the stars. Then your fuckhead of a childhood lover just...needed me. He was needy enough to interrupt me."

"Needy?"

"Roman needed me to get in with a buddy of mines, all on the line of business. He threatened me, which was adorable. He's adorable when he's trying to be serious and not just a snarky fuck. You would know."

"...I would."

Stewy smiles slightly before a look to the rug, he's quick to look back up at you.

"I don't think how or what happened there matters. He didn't knock you up to pull a shotgun wedding in Milan. He had more than enough time."

Stewy pulls on your earring, a gentle and humored touch.

"That was the mistake on his end."

You smile with closed eyes. Okay.

You can't agree too much with what Stewy says, you think that puts you up on a pedestal. That it's a pathetic attempt to say no, nothing's wrong with you - everything's wrong with Roman for not choosing you. There's nothing of you to choose, but it does make you feel better, even if it's Stewy mentioning teenage pregnancy.

It's something unbelievably nice from him, but it's crotchety. Graceful, and his arms of warm. It's just as much of Stewy as it's of something unbelievably.

"The smile is telling me I'm great at this. So, let's go find people of the wedding party to bed - if everything goes well."

"What are you doing with Kendall?"

"We're saving you. We make do with the Roys, right? Fuck."

"Does my hair look okay?"

"Oh, your hair smells just fucking swell."

"I didn't say-"

Stewy cuts you off with his face coming closer over your shoulder, eyes closed and nose ready for this stupid bit. It's something he's done in front of Roman to make the veins come along his forehead, to gain pitchy insults for himself while you would have to soothe Roman with your chest against his back afterwards, taking your own slut, whore-named calls from him.

He's going to smell your hair.

"It's vanilla. And lilies. Apparentl-"

And he smells your hair, finger brushing it. You watch him sniff and it's...

He's so close. You don't think he was ever this close before when he'd fuck around, but Stewy's hand squeezes your bicep. You feel your heart speed up, a soft heat on your skin pressing down as he squeezes tighter.

And suddenly, Stewy's different. You hate it, you hate the way he's different next to you - or you just feel different about him.

Because he's handsome in the mirror.

Stewy's always been handsome, in style and in face. You've known that, but the way he looks is on your skin, on the beat of your heart. The way he touches you doesn't feel like way Kendall or Shiv touches you. In the way anyone touches you.

Unfortunately, the only thing you can go off of is the way Roman's touch feels - and that's what it feels like now.

No, Stewy's touch is more confident, less demanding of attention. But his touch makes you feel the way you do when Roman's hands come onto. That's it.

And it's a it that sinks down into your stomach. Because Stewy was always Stewy, he's doing something Stewy always does - and it's suddenly different?

Somehow you've managed to fuck up curing your loneliness. But you'll push it down, because it's nothing. The way Stewy's squeeze slowly, slowly stills and softens is nothing. The way his mouth curves and how his eyes blink quickly under his bent brows.

He's just Stewy. And his name doesn't mean anything.

"...I don't know how you're getting lilies, but I'm not queer enough to know my flowers. But-"

Stewy breaks his words as he lets you go, clearing his throat and putting his hands in his pocket.

"You smell as pretty as you look. Congratulations."

"Let's go before I'm knocked down from bridesmaid's status to wedding-goer."

"That's what I've been saying."

You haven't seen Roman since you've set up in your room yesterday and being seen with Stewy was going to get a sigh from you, a slew of demeaning conversations from him. But now it feels like something else and you don't want it to because it doesn't.

"I'll catch up, princess. I need a tie and a time to remember how good I look right now."

"You do what you need to do, Stewy."

You smile at his smile before leaving. You need to breathe when you close the door.

You won't be this stupid, even if you don't know that Stewy needed, needs to breathe to - cursing at himself in the mirror.

He runs his hand over his mouth.

"Jesus fucking Christ, man."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

"Roman, get out."

"Why isn't she here?"

"I don't know, but we'll be in our...I hate the stage name-bullshit to all of this, but we'll be in our places soon. Are you here just to bother her until she wants to slit her wrists? Because don't do that to my bridesmaid, Rome."

"She's been avoiding me and I want to knock her head off for it."

"Well, that's what happens when you try to shove your dick into someone with the moral decency to not tell your girlfriend but also the dignity to want to not be within the vicinity of you. Surprising."

"Fuck you, your tit is about to pop out, by the way."

"Go away."

Roman sits himself on Shiv's vanity. He plays with a tube of lipstick.

"I'm going to wait for her here because if I don't, that means the next time I'll actually see her is when she's up on the fuckin-the end of the aisle thingy. And I'll just rip the top of her dress down and her bridesmaids boobs will bounce out for everyone to see-"

Shiv makes a squinty face as she puts on her heels.

"God, Rome."

He only thought it cause he wants that, but fuck - honestly? Outside of the joke to make Shiv uncomfortable? Roman would only do that with just the two of you. He's just desperate. Sorry. He hasn't seen a lot of your skin in awhile.

"I'll do that...or I'll leak a little something about Tom before his vows. I'll embarrass the shit out of you and it'll be over something you could've easily accepte-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, fine. Get off the vanity, your fat crack is going to make an avalanche out of agarwood."

Roman makes a squinty face, genuine anger and defense bloated on his brows.

"You're the one serving steak. Your breasts will pop out of the dress, only cause your stomach is gonna break the buttons in the back. Fuck you."

Roman hops off the vanity and puts up his arms when you come in.

"I was getting worried."

"Sorry, Shiv....and Roman? Was he going to replace me as a bridesmaid if I didn't show?"

Shiv smiles and Roman comes closer to you, you're here now and he's here? At least he's seen you before he's seen you with Stewy. You wonder what he's doing now. If you'll see him much after the wedding.

"You haven't been answering my texts. I need you to not be a child and talk to me...and critique my cock pics."

Shiv's head snaps and you close your eyes. Two of the bridesmaids shift uncomfortably and embarrassment burns.

Roman.

"Nothing's different. Did something happen in your personal life that I'm not aware of? Like trauma to get you isolated?"

"I was just tired and wanted to stay in the room. No trauma involved, I don't think it would take that much for someone to not want to talk to you."

Shiv snorts.

"Boring. Me and Tabs explored the grounds, there's at least six places at the venue where people definitely hanged themselves. Hung. You know, Brits and their cheery dispositions." Roman crosses his arms and presses his foot into the ground. "Tabitha mentioned that weather definitely plays a part in mental wellness which made me think I've made my bed with a 5'10 hippie but I thought about it and like yeah, England's gloomy. Gloomy fucks."

...Okay.

"Okay. Well, I heard about photos?"

Shiv comes up from her chair.

"Oh, no. Me and Tom decided we didn't need those behind the scenes personal photographs. But we're taking some right after the ceremony, I think. But...alright, I think I'm getting married soon."

You smile, coming to kiss Shiv's cheek. You remember when you two would play wedding with each other, before you would play it with Roman. And yeah, she's getting married. It's like time is nothing.

"You look beautiful. Sorry for being a shit bridesmaid. I should've made up a party or something befo-"

Shiv shakes her head quickly, a soft jolt with a thin smile.

"Where would I have time for dick lollipops and mini-veils? You're fine. You put on the dress and do the thing, right?"

"Tommy's wedded to a romantic. Okay, I'm going. Have fun standing for an hour. I'll come to your room later."

You blink at him. He wants to lick you so badly.

Roman stretches before he goes to leave, he just doesn't with a stare you understand. It makes you sink, a need to comfort him and tear the fact you know he's in distress and confusion by a simple change in his face. You can't do anything with it anymore.

"What the fuck are doing here? Move."

"I came to look at my date before I have to sit through mandated vows...unless, Shiv - you'll be reading something from the heart?"

Stewy comes through the doorway. He's wearing a tie and he looks...cute.

"...Hi?"

Roman's brows come down, his head jolts back. "Wow, one of these grocery store ad model randos Shiv picked off the street due to having no friends actually wants to fuck you?" He tilts his head. "I guess I could see it, you're as hot as a grocery store ad model. Take you out of the suit and you're fucking homely."

Stewy doesn't say anything to Roman. He just smiles, turn his head to you.

Your heart picks up. You rub your neck.

"Tie matches. And because of your terrible wedding-fashion taste, about twenty percent my outfit is a green-blue fabric mess. Thank you for that."

You take a peek at the way Roman's face drops. In the eyes and soft mouth, in the way his neck holds his head.

A bit of brokenness and anger growing like a weed so instantly, but you deny it so, because Stewy's ties matches his outfit, you think. And if you react to this, to Stewy as intensely as Roman does, you'll be sick. Fuck.

You can't look at him.

"You're welcome."

"I have a bit of time to..."

To talk with Kendall about fucking their dad, something that his siblings can't know about. Stewy holds his head up.

"You okay, Roman?"

"...What the fuck?"

You can feel Roman's staring like a burn, like a clenched fist you can't comfort him enough to open.

"Shiv, you look beautiful."

You don't hear Shiv behind you, but you imagine the slight twist of her face, her head tilt.

"...Thanks. You're her date. He's your date? To my wedding?"

"I just needed to fill out my plus one."

"Oh. Okay."

"I'm so honored you're not ashamed of me. No, she suddenly found me too hot in the face to not have me as her date. We'll see where this goes."

"Fuck you. Get the fuck out-"

"Are you telling me to because I was planning to leave? So it seems like you made me. Princess, he's grasping."

You can watch Roman's fist, his hands flex out and shake and shift - just with his head.

"Um. Okay - I um...I'm going to get set up to...walk. Dad didn't get in on the semi-wedding rehearsal but he's waiting, probably. But Rome, calm the fuck down. Jesus."

Shiv makes small conversation with the other ladies before walking out, dress in her fist. And you have to turn to Roman's stare.

It's grating against your eyes.

"You fucking whore-"

"Oh. If I thought this was a place where adults could talk. I'm sorry. I'll have to leave."

"Are you serious? You reall-"

"I feel like you want me to leave him with you. I better go before that vessel bursts on my neckline."

You hear something of a choke and a scoff when Stewy kisses your cheek. You smile weakly, but your sigh is strong when the door closes in the both of you alone.

"You reveal you've had-have Stewy dick thrusted into you at Shiv's fucking wedding? You...was me getting with Tabitha a blessing in disguise for you? How long have you've been wanting him impregnate you? Huh?"

You look to the floor. It's just Stewy. It's just Roman's insecurities coming over him. Stewy was the worst to pick, but Roman would've acted as if he was being incinerated if you picked anyone else. So it can't matter - and you can't assure him that no, you don't want anyone else.

Because he did, he picked her out and you're just lucky she's nice, that she can handle someone like Roman. But he did want someone else. And you didn't think you would ever, but you wear the same color Stewy does. But fuck, even if you didn't, there's something like spite - that you don't want to tell him you're his.

But it's true, because that feeling with Stewy was just something...fucking strange. You won't hear the end of it from him if you gave way.

"Are you not going to answer me? Because you were just waiting for a moment for me to fuck up and off so you can lollygag on Stewy's cock - and I just fucking - I let you! I actually believed you when you would blow and cuddle me. You are a glorified streetwalker for this family. Roy and Co. strumpet."

It hurts. You know Roman's hurting, he's just spitting fire, but it still hurts and you'd like to hurt him. Not in the way that would make him feel more like, not a hair pull or harsh insult in the sheets. But it's not fair. Either way.

"Would you call getting with Tabitha a fuck up?"

Roman closes his eyes for a hot moment.

"You do. Obviously. It's either you've been wanting Stewy to slobber and make curved-nose love to you for the entirety of us being...us. Or you're just being a petty, pathetic bitch to get back at me for trying out different legs - but like, you also still have me. You have me. Either way, I think you hate me and fuck you. You know what? I'm glad you've been a prude for me because you've dried yourself up for him."

Roman kicks his foot into the wood.

"I'd be sharing pussy with Stewy. Jesus, fuckin-"

"Roman."

You hear it in his voice, the strangle and panic as he rolls his neck.

"He's just my date for tonight because I couldn't find anyone else. He's here because he was invited and also just to...I don't know - fuck around with Kendall, in a professional manner. I don't know. It made sens-"

"I offered, me. You. And Tabitha - just fucking, a formal three-way. And it's a fucking wedding, who cares? You didn't have to pick Stewy." Roman breathes, even in the pitchy, bitchy anger. "...But seriously, just a fucking date? And he's just coming in here to break me for giggles? That's it?"

You look at the color of your dress. It's more a purple-blue, really.

That's it. It has to be. Because it's Stewy.

"Yes, that's it."

He scoffs high, pulling at his ear before his hands open up below him.

"Well, fuck. Bet you picked him just to make me tingle, though."

"...But what if it was something, Rome?"

And whatever is like a smile on his face drops again.

"Jesus Christ. You want march in the pussy parade. Fuck you!"

He had it. Roman just though you were being...sad, depriving yourself of him for the sake of morals. Or that you were trying to be like him when to came to venturing out date wise. But you pick basic fucking normies who don't like you. They don't love you and they obviously aren't worth your time if they give up so fucking easily whenever Roman threatens them.

But he didn't think of Stewy. He didn't because you promised him. He wouldn't have thought of Stewy and he wouldn't have thought of Kendall. Because it's Stewy - so fuck him. And it's Kendall. Those are the only male fucks he's sure you wouldn't think of fucking just because you don't have him. But you do have him.

But Roman's feeling a pit in his stomach, just pressing down on his muscles and he feels sick. This is making him sick. He wants to grab at you and make him promise things.

Why are you doing this to him? Why are you asking him stupid fucking questions?

"If I we're to get with someone - not Stewy. Not Stewy, Roman...because he's just my date. If I got with someone just for fun or it's fun but then it turns into something else, something stable...this is all hypothetical. There's nothing to it, or history or anyone. But it's a question because you can't keep doing this."

Roman stares and his face becomes simple, casual.

"But I can, because who's gonna want you when I just email them the videos of your toes in my mouth? Or...me in your lap and you're singing, but that's bound to gross someone out and into their grave. So...I can."

Frustration hits. Roman.

You can deny everything else, but not his hypocrisy.

"It's going to have to stop. Pushing the idea that I can be with you while you're with Tabitha and especially if I do want to find someone at some po-"

Roman snort something smug and familiar, you'd usually just kiss him and pull to get him weak. Soft.

"Yeah. No. You're not going to want to do anything. Physically, you can't."

"How could you possibly know that, Roman?"

"Cause me and you are of the same twig. Stop trying to force yourself to find other dicks to gobble down because it's making you look like a try-hard. Stewy's fine now because...what a sad sap for a date, but it'll make Ken's head spout steam. That'll be funny."

You blink with parted lips.

Now you really don't get anything. Because he's saying he knows you're not going to want to do anything because you're the same as him. But he has done something.

In the last hour, you've lost so much in terms of understanding.

"And if it was Stewy? Back to the hypothetical."

Roman's unblinking before a slight, slight smile.

"You would find me with slit writs on your doorstep. And it'd be your fault and I would make sure everyone would know. But you know that already."

He grabs your hand, a mwah on your cheek.

"We'll be tired tonight, I don't think these ancient knobs have locks on them so I'll come by later. But seriously, just...don't try hard."

It makes you look pathetic, but it also makes me sick.

You look at where Roman doesn't wear a tie. You don't think he's ever made it so he's matching with you. And Stewy's done it so easily - you try and remember his dates to Waystar events and galas over the years, if his ties matched their dresses. The best you can remember is when he bought you matching baseball hats for your seventeenth birthday, something Roman and Kendall found corny.

You rub your neck as Stewy fixes his tie two halls over.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

hope you enjoyed! dw, roman's gonna get what's coming to him. You've already seen his panic at the idea of her being with Stewy, as her and Stewy slowly realize their jokes and bits can't stay bits anymore? Roman's heart is gonna fall out of his ass. He's gonna kill himself. They're feeding each other food next part and it's hell for everyone. Love ya!

[diana-foggy-master]

𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝟑

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏʀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ ɪꜰ ᴜ sᴀᴠᴇ

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

more icons from Succession on my Pinterest: HERE

[wambsgansshoelaces]

could you maybe do headcanons on how the succession characters would comfort their partner? it's just being such a shit week and on top of that i finished succession and i am immensely sad💀 it's okay if you can't tho !! thanks <3

I hope your week ends on a good note!!! Thank you for requesting anon, I love u and I hope this makes you feel better :) <3

p.s. I’m so sorry I’m updating slowly :( I promise I’ll get better about it the moment I’m on break, im sick and school is ruing my life :,) enjoy x

comforting you

Kendall

ᝰ he doesn’t need you to say anything, ever

ᝰ he just knows what you need

ᝰ when he comes home and finds you in bed early, he knows you’ve had a difficult day

ᝰ he doesn’t know what happened, but he won’t ask until you’re feeling better

ᝰ he changes out of his work clothes and just gets into bed with you

ᝰ when you don’t say anything either, he pulls you into a cuddle, one hand pressing your head to his chest and the other cupping your hip

ᝰ “hi, ken.”

ᝰ peppers your face in kisses

ᝰ “feeling off?” he asks

ᝰ you nod

ᝰ his fingers go to stroke your jaw

ᝰ “you can talk to me, you know. i want to make it better,” he tells you

ᝰ so you tell him everything

ᝰ whatever the issue was, the next day, he’s found some way to solve it

ᝰ just for you

ᝰ anything for you

Roman

ᝰ he’s not exactly a ‘sit down and talk about feelings’ type of person

ᝰ but he can tell when something’s wrong

ᝰ and he wants nothing more but to make you feel like you’re on top of the world

ᝰ he sees your pouty face when you get home from a grocery run

ᝰ “hey, babe, come look,” he says after he helps with all the bags

ᝰ he’d been at work when you’d left for the store

ᝰ so he’s had some time to figure out what to do for you without making it seem like he’s prying

ᝰ he’ll ask you about what’s bothering you once you’ve relaxed

ᝰ he plops down on the couch, dragging you with him

ᝰ your favorite movie is paused on the tv, waiting to be played

ᝰ “i found an extended version. with bloopers and deleted scenes and everything,” he murmurs

ᝰ the entire movie, his hand is rubbing up and down your back

ᝰ his fingers sometimes creep up your neck, playing gently with your hair

ᝰ the entire thing is extremely soothing

ᝰ you know he knows something’s wrong

ᝰ and you also know he’s going to do everything in his power to fix it

ᝰ and you’re so grateful he just loves you

Shiv

ᝰ the minute you come home from work, exhaustion and misery rolling off of you in waves, she demands to know what’s wrong

ᝰ “is someone bothering you? is it your boss again? because i can get him fired.”

ᝰ you tell her everything

ᝰ she promises to help you with whatever it is that’s causing you trouble

ᝰ she’d tip the earth off it’s axis if you asked

ᝰ and she does as she said she would

ᝰ everything’s somehow resolved in the next hour

ᝰ “come here, i want a kiss,” she tells you

ᝰ you very happily oblige

ᝰ she spends the entire night just spoiling (and worshiping) you

ᝰ the sheets of your bed are tangled between both your legs

ᝰ you’ve never felt more loved

ᝰ she murmurs about how valentine’s day is coming up

ᝰ and tells you to get your nails done and dress pretty day of

ᝰ you don’t really know how you got here

ᝰ but you’re not upset

ᝰ you smile up at the ceiling, delightedly dazed

ᝰ you don’t even remember why you were upset

Tom

ᝰ the two of you are watching your current show, as you do every night, and he notices you’re zoning out

ᝰ he pauses it and looks down at you

ᝰ he dots a couple kisses over your brow

ᝰ “everything okay?”

ᝰ “rough day…”

ᝰ “why didn’t you tell me?”

ᝰ his expression is one of concern now, yet still absolutely laden with affection

ᝰ “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to keeping things from you or anything. i just don’t want to bother you.”

ᝰ “i want you to bother me. say everything that comes into your brain, i want to hear it.”

ᝰ he pulls you closer, palm smoothing over the back of your neck as he sets your head against his chest

ᝰ you tell him about your day, and how you were getting so frustrated

ᝰ frustrated everything was going wrong today, frustrated that the entire week was going wrong

ᝰ he listens intently, stroking your hair the entire time

ᝰ he gives soft “mhms” and “of courses” at your words

ᝰ he peppers warm kisses all over your face

ᝰ he does his best to give you a solution

ᝰ even if what he suggested doesn’t work, he’s sending you flowers to your office for the next week

Greg

ᝰ he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit

ᝰ he’s a little nervous to ask what’s wrong

ᝰ he’s afraid he won’t know what to do to make you feel better

ᝰ “hey, uh, everything okay?”

ᝰ you shrug

ᝰ “wanna talk about it?”

ᝰ you tell him everything

ᝰ he nods the entire time, his eyes never leaving your face

ᝰ he’s trying to memorize everything you’re saying

ᝰ he doesn’t really have any great solutions

ᝰ and he kind of hates himself for it

ᝰ he wants to help you

ᝰ “hey, how about we go out tonight? take your mind off things.”

ᝰ you spend the night at dinner then wandering through a night market

ᝰ you both talk nonstop

ᝰ he gets you a bunch of trinkets

ᝰ just things that reminds him of you

ᝰ and a bracelet, too

ᝰ`he spends a bit of time fiddling with the clasp, eventually hooking it together and letting it sit on your wrist

ᝰ you don’t take the bracelet off

ᝰ ever

ᝰ at home, he’s worried you’re still upset

ᝰ but you’re not

ᝰ you fall asleep curled up against him, your worries now nonexistent

Stewy

ᝰ he feels what you feel

ᝰ and at this point he can never leave you alone

ᝰ he NEEDS to be with you 24/7

ᝰ so naturally it’s like he’s dying when you come home looking upset

ᝰ “hey, no kiss hello?” he whines

ᝰ that manages to get you to laugh

ᝰ he smiles at your smiling

ᝰ you go over to kiss him and he catches your wrist before you walk off

ᝰ “no, c’mere,” he insists

ᝰ he tugs you into his lap and winds his arms around your waist

ᝰ he sets his chin on your shoulder

ᝰ “why’re you upset?”

ᝰ “oh, it’s nothing, stewy.”

ᝰ “bullshit.”

ᝰ you spill

ᝰ he rubs circles into your hip bone

ᝰ “i’d be upset, too,” he admits

ᝰ he kisses all up your neck

ᝰ “but we don’t have to think about that all now. can we just spend some time together? i promise, though, if you’re still having problems i’ll gladly fuck up many lives for you.”

ᝰ you laugh, making him laugh

ᝰ you spend the rest of the night just sitting there talking to him

ᝰ he even lets you put his hair into pigtails with your hair ties

[hunzzzzz]

Tell me sweet little lies: part 6

Summary: During a tense weekend in the Hamptons, Diane's pursuit of a story involving Kendall Roy takes a turn. Diane's journalistic detachment wavers, replaced by growing empathy. The escalating emotions of the weekend threaten to overwhelm her.

TW: smut on the beach, face sitting, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation

A/N: oooohh Kendall is so baby girl, I just want to give him a big hug

🦋🐟🐬🐠🧢🐳🩵👕🖌️🛋️🫂🎽🐋💦🌊💧🧊🪼🫐

Kendall watched Diane shift restlessly beside him, the moonlight from the window painting her face in stark contrasts of light and shadow. "Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Nope," she yawned, her eyes wide and dark. "You?"

He turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Same here. Just… a lot on my mind."

Diane turned to face him, her brow furrowed slightly. "What is it?"

He sighed, a sound heavy with the weight of years. "Oh, you know. Just ever shitty thing that's happened since I can remember."

Diane's lips curved into a small, sympathetic smile. "Yeah, like what?"

"Like the time when I was 7, I got a dog for my birthday. A little golden retriever puppy I named Scout. I was obsessed with him. He was my best friend, the only thing in my life that felt genuinely mine, unconditionally loving. One afternoon, I was walking him in the park, and I let him off the leash for just a second. He ran off, chasing a squirrel. I searched for hours, called his name until my voice was hoarse. I never found him. My parents didn't care. They just said, 'It's just a dog,' and got me a new one a few weeks later— but it wasn’t the same. Nothing could ever replace Scout; he was precious."

"Or sparring with my dad… he used to make me box with him, at the ripe age of, what, 10? 11? He’d put on these old, worn-out gloves, and tell me to ‘toughen up.’ He wouldn’t hold back. Not really. He’d hit me hard enough to bruise, sometimes. One time, he knocked me down, and I remember just lying there on the floor, staring up at him. He just stood over me, saying ‘You're not hurt. Get up.’ It wasn’t about teaching me to defend myself. It was about… proving something. To himself, I guess. That he was strong. That I was weak. That I was his to break." He ran a hand through his hair, a flicker of pain crossing his features. 

Diane's eyes widened, a genuine sympathy in their depths. "Oh Kendall, that's… awful."

A bitter chuckle escaped Kendall's lips. "Oh, and how could I ever forget the custody battle… they lined us up, me, Shiv, and Rome, and picked us, one by one, like we were being auctioned off. I was the last one left. The 'leftover.' My mom was so mortified—more by the optics, I think, than by my actual feelings—that she renegotiated the whole thing just to avoid taking me." He shook his head, the memory still sharp after all these years.

“I’m sorry, Kendall.” Diane whispered.

"That's just the tip of the iceberg," he said, his voice flat, almost devoid of emotion. "When I was thirteen, my first girlfriend admitted she only dated me to climb the social ladder. Dumped me the second she realized I wasn't going to get her into the 'in' crowd. It wasn't even personal, really. I was just a means to an end." He shrugged, but the gesture didn't quite mask the lingering hurt. 

"And then, a few years later, my grandfather, who was like a father to me—the only father I ever truly knew—got sick. I spent months visiting him in the hospital, watching him fade away. The day he died, I was supposed to give a presentation in class. I went anyway, thinking I could compartmentalize. I got halfway through, broke down in front of everyone, and ran out of the room. I never finished the presentation. I never even went back to that class."

"But you learned from it, right?" Diane said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. Her fingers were cool against his skin. “You wouldn’t be who you are today if you didn’t get such tough skin from all of that, right?”

Kendall gave a wry, humorless smile. "I learned that some people are users. I learned that even hard work can lead to disaster. I learned that grief can hit you at the most inconvenient times. I learned that my own father saw me as something to conquer, not to nurture. And that sometimes, even your own mother can’t bear to look at you. I don't think a kid needs to learn all that. I should have been worried about algebra, not social manipulation and the casual cruelty of the people who were supposed to protect me." He looked at Diane, his eyes searching, pleading for understanding. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"No," she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I like listening to you." She pulled her hand back, tucking it under the covers. In the dim light, Kendall couldn't see the way her fingers were twisting the fabric of the sheet.

"What about you?" he asked gently. "What's keeping you up?"

Diane hesitated, her heart pounding against her ribs. The image of the box, the tape, the crimson stain on the rough cloth, the file , flashed through her mind. I killed him. It was an accident. The words echoed in her head, a chilling mantra. She swallowed hard, forcing them back down. She glanced at Kendall, at the genuine concern in his eyes, and a wave of guilt washed over her.

"Just… a light sleeper." she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. She pulled the covers up to her chin, as if trying to shield herself from his questions. It wasn't a lie, not entirely, but the truth was buried beneath layers of fear and desperation.

"Oh, shit my bad. I’m sorry for waking you, I uh, I sometimes get night terrors.” He muttered an apology, feeling guilty. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “I was just worried about you.”

“Don't let me keep you up. You need your precious beauty sleep.” He gently brushed her hair away from her forehead, his touch lingering.

When Kendall looked at Diane, a feeling bloomed in his chest, unfamiliar and potent. Was it love? A terrifying, exhilarating possibility. He’d never known it, not from Logan Roy, a man whose billions couldn’t buy him an ounce of paternal warmth. Logan’s affection was transactional, reserved for business deals and power plays, never for his children. 

And his mother, Caroline… Caroline was a ghost in his life, a beautiful, brittle creature more concerned with her social standing than her offspring. She’d never breastfed her children, couldn't be bothered with the messy, intimate act of nurturing. From the moment they were born, they were handed off to a rotating cast of nannies and maids, their cries and needs a mere inconvenience to her perfectly manicured existence.

He’d spent his life chasing his parents’ approval, believing achievement would unlock their love. He’d excelled in school, captained the lacrosse team, pursued every venture his father suggested, hoping to finally earn a flicker of recognition, a word of praise. But their indifference had become a constant hum in the background of his life, a confirmation of his inherent unworthiness. Their eyes, when they did fall on him, held a chilling emptiness, as if they were looking through him, not at him. After the divorce, Caroline had all but vanished, choosing to settle for sprawling estates and lucrative investments rather than fight for custody. Land and property held more value to her than her own children. It was a stark, brutal message: they were disposable.

Even his marriage to Rava, a logical, expected step, had lacked a spark. It was a union born of societal pressure and a desperate attempt to create a semblance of normalcy, not love. Fatherhood, too, had failed to fill the void, overshadowed by Logan’s dismissive attitude towards his grandchildren, treating them as pawns in his ongoing power games.

Then there was Diane. At first, a welcome distraction, a brief respite from the crushing weight of his family’s legacy. Now… something more. She didn’t demand perfection or offer conditional acceptance like his family. Their shared experiences of childhood pain, though different in their specifics, resonated deeply. They understood the unspoken language of neglect, the constant ache of feeling unseen. Unlike Rava, who tried to mold him into a version of himself she found acceptable, Diane simply listened . She saw him, the real him, with all his flaws and insecurities. With Rava, he’d always worn a mask, playing the role of the successful husband and father, a performance he could never quite perfect, especially with his father’s critical gaze always in his mind.

Diane had found him in the depths of despair. The night they met, he was a wreck, a monument to self-destruction, lost in a haze of expensive whiskey, crushed pills, and a self-loathing that gnawed at him from the inside out. He’d been on the verge of oblivion, teetering on the precipice of something dark and irreversible. But instead of recoiling like everyone else—the concerned glances that quickly turned to averted eyes, the hushed whispers of “poor Kendall,” the thinly veiled disgust—she’d offered a brief respite from his agony. 

And it wasn't just that one night. It was the weeks that followed, the slow, agonizing unraveling of Vaulter, the public humiliation, the feeling of utter failure that threatened to consume him. He’d expected her to disappear, to join the chorus of disappointed voices, to add her name to the long list of people who had abandoned him. But she didn't. When he was down in the dumps, curled up in the fetal position on his couch, reeking of stale liquor and despair, she stayed. She didn't try to fix him, didn't offer empty platitudes or unsolicited advice. She simply sat with him, a silent presence in his storm. She offered comfort in small gestures: a hand on his shoulder, a gentle stroke of his hair, a massage; her touch was a welcome distraction—only she could make him feel good..

He’d never known such kindness, such unwavering acceptance. His past relationships had been built on performance, on the expectation that he would always be the strong one, the successful one, the one who had it all together. With Diane, there were no expectations, no masks to maintain. He could be his broken, flawed self, and she wouldn't flinch.

Kendall was falling in love, a sensation entirely new to him, a terrifying and exhilarating freefall. He’d never known such a profound connection, such a deep and abiding affection. The love he’d witnessed had always been conditional, transactional, a tool for manipulation or a means to an end. He’d always doubted his capacity for love, his worthiness of it, convinced that he was incapable of giving or receiving such a pure and vulnerable emotion. Yet, here he was, feeling it for the first time.

And he would do anything to keep this woman in his life. The feeling he felt was aggressive and fraught— he wanted her with panic and passion. 

————————————————————————-

Kendall woke up in the predawn hours, sleep eluding him. He watched Diane, her peaceful form curled away from him. A surge of affection washed over him, and he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her protectively. Soon, he was lulled back to sleep by the warmth of her body.

The first slivers of dawn pierced the curtains, painting the room in shades of grey. Diane stirred, her eyes snapping open. She was trapped, a prisoner in Kendall’s suffocating embrace. His grip was a vise. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, a low rumble against her ear.

“Let me up,” she said, a tremor in her voice as she tried to subtly pry his fingers loose.

“You’re so warm,” he protested, his hold tightening, a possessive edge creeping into his tone. “What’s the rush?”

Panic flared in Diane’s chest. Under her pillow, hidden from view, lay the box– the box containing the evidence. She had to move it, now. Before he saw. “I just… I like to start my day early,” she stammered, forcing a lightness into her voice, desperately trying to coax him out of bed, away from the pillow.

“Five more minutes,” he groaned, pulling her even closer, his breath hot on her neck.

“You’re such a diva,” she teased, a brittle laugh escaping her lips. Inside, her mind raced, calculating, strategizing. The seconds ticked by like hammer blows.

Kendall held her captive for what felt like an eternity, a suffocating closeness that made her skin crawl. Finally, with a sigh of exaggerated reluctance, he relented, but only after she promised him a “special present” and whispered promises of making him “feel good” after his shower – a promise that tasted like ash in her mouth.

The moment he was out of sight, the bathroom door clicking shut, Diane lunged for the pillow. Her fingers closed around the box, cold and hard in her trembling hand. She shoved it deep into her bag. A wave of nausea washed over her. This trip. This charade. It was all about uncovering the truth behind the cruise scandal, a truth buried deep beneath layers of lies and deceit. The stakes were higher than she’d ever imagined. This information was crucial, not just for her article, but for something much bigger. She took a shaky breath, steeling her resolve. No matter the cost.

When Kendall emerged, freshly showered and radiating an oblivious charm, Diane was already in the kitchen, forcing herself to appear calm and collected.

“I was promised a reward?” Kendall announced, a playful grin spreading across his face. 

“Yes, you were,” Diane replied, a smirk playing on her lips. She slid a mug of steaming coffee towards him across the counter. “I made you coffee.” Of course, she knew he was expecting something more than coffee.

“You played me,” he pouted, his playful tone not quite masking a hint of disappointment.

“I never specified anything,” she giggled, her tone light and teasing.

“Maybe you just need some energy,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling with a playful light. He took a sip of the coffee, then set the mug down with a decisive clink. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

It was the last thing she wanted. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to flee, to return home with the file and the box, to dissect every piece of evidence, to finally break this story wide open. The need for a breakthrough was a burning obsession. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She forced a smile, a mask of compliance. 

“Sure,” she agreed, her voice light and airy. She knew she had to play along, at least for now.

—————————————————————————

“Where are we going?” Diane asked, watching the blossoming trees blur past the window. She rolled it down, welcoming the spring breeze that tousled her hair, a fleeting moment of normalcy in the tense undercurrent between them.

Breakfast had been a strained affair. Kendall, clearly exhausted from a restless night, yawned incessantly, a stark contrast to his usual vibrant self. He pushed through it, though, his gaze fixed on Diane, as if her mere presence could ward off his fatigue. Spending time with her was paramount.

“It’s a surprise,” Kendall said, glancing at her, a look of almost unsettling adoration in his eyes. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, a flicker of suspicion igniting within her.

“Well,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “your horoscope said you were going to have a day full of nostalgia and adventures. It said you’d spend it with a special someone.” He winked, the gesture feeling strangely heavy.

“Bullshit,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “You’re winding me up. Ha ha.” The laugh felt forced, brittle.

“I’m not,” he insisted earnestly. “That’s what it said on Elle, swear on my life.”

“But you don’t even believe in that stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes, trying to decipher if this was some elaborate joke, or something far more unsettling.

“Yeah, but you do, so it doesn’t matter what I think,” he replied, taking her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, resting their joined hands in her lap. The casual intimacy felt like a violation.

“You’re creeping me out now, seriously,” she rolled her eyes. “What is this secret location you’re taking me to?” 

The unease wasn’t just about the mystery destination. It was about his sudden, intense focus on her, the way he seemed to be cataloging her every like and dislike. It was a dangerous game he was playing, a slippery slope that would inevitably lead to probing questions, intimate inquiries that she couldn’t afford.

Diane was always on edge around Kendall, a constant state of vigilance. She could never let her guard down, every word carefully weighed, every action meticulously planned. The risk of her cover being blown was a constant, suffocating pressure. The strain was taking its toll, a stark contrast to the easy comfort Kendall seemed to radiate in her presence. He was free, open, while she was trapped in a cage of her own making.

“Relax, you’re so tense,” he said, squeezing her hand again, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Mhmm,” Diane mumbled, offering a weak, uneasy smile.

Finally, Kendall parked the car. He climbed out, then rounded the vehicle, opening Diane’s door, offering his hand to help her out. As the building came into view, her breath caught in her throat. It was an aquarium. A genuine smile touched her lips.

“I know your Pisces quirks,” he smirked, a smug satisfaction in his voice, pulling her towards the entrance. “You love water.” The casual observation, the way he’d filed away this small detail about her, sent another wave of unease through her. This wasn’t just a date. It was something else. Something she couldn’t quite define, but it felt like a trap closing around her.

The aquarium was a kaleidoscope of blues and greens, a mesmerizing underwater world teeming with life. Diane was captivated. Schools of shimmering fish darted past coral reefs, rays glided effortlessly through the water, and majestic sharks patrolled their domain. For a brief, precious moment, she forgot about the box, the lies, the constant vigilance. She was simply Diane, a woman enjoying the wonders of the ocean.

They watched playful sea otters tumble over each other, their sleek bodies twirling in the water. They stood mesmerized by the graceful ballet of jellyfish, their translucent forms pulsating with an ethereal glow. They even braved the touch tank, Diane hesitantly reaching out to stroke the rough skin of a starfish. Laughter bubbled up from her, genuine and unrestrained, a sound Kendall drank in like a man parched in a desert.

But the idyllic atmosphere began to shift as Kendall’s curiosity, previously charming, turned into something more intense. He started asking questions, probing beneath the surface, wanting to know the real Diane, the woman hidden behind the carefully constructed façade.

“What’s your favorite exhibit so far?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her, searching.

“Probably the beluga whales,” she replied, her gaze still on the massive white creatures swimming in their tank. “They’re so intelligent.”

“Like you,” he murmured, then, more pointedly, “So uh, what do you do for fun? You love the water, I know that much, but what else?”

The question hung in the air, the lightheartedness of the moment dissipating. Diane hesitated. “I… I don’t really have much time for fun,” she said, a half-truth slipping past her lips. “Work keeps me pretty busy.”

“You’re always working,” he observed, a hint of concern in his voice. “Don’t you have any friends? People you hang out with?”

“Not really,” Diane paused, considering her response. “I mean, I have friends,” she corrected herself, a slight catch in her throat. “I do. But I… I just don’t have time for them. I can’t explain it. When I’m with them, all I’m thinking about is the next project at work. I’m there, but not really there. Work alway has and will be my number one priority.”

It was the truth. Diane’s work ethic was relentless, bordering on obsessive. Late nights in the office were the norm, not the exception. She refused to leave until she was satisfied, driven by an internal engine that never seemed to run out of fuel.

This drive stemmed from her upbringing. Raised by hard working parents, she had learned the value of perseverance and dedication from a young age. Both her mother and father had worked tirelessly to provide her with the best life possible. Her mother, a dedicated nurse, often picked up extra shifts around holidays like her birthday and Christmas, sacrificing precious time to afford her the most luxurious gifts. Her father, a hardworking businessman who ran a small advertising company, had saved every penny from the day she was born to fund her college education. “You’re destined for greatness,” he would often tell her, instilling in her a deep belief in her own potential.

Driven by a potent mix of ambition and gratitude, Diane had excelled in her studies. Her near-perfect GPA had opened doors, leading her to a successful career in journalism. She poured her heart and soul into her work, striving for excellence in everything she did. This relentless drive was the reason she was so immersed in this current article, the cruise scandal. She had been promised a promotion, a reward she could almost taste. But beneath the professional ambition lay a deeper motivation: to make her parents proud. She wanted to show them that their sacrifices, their tireless efforts, hadn’t been in vain. She had to.

Kendall’s expression clouded slightly. “That’s… kind of sad,” he said softly. “Everyone needs someone.”

“My parents— my mom, she sacrificed everything for me,” she said, her voice softening. “That’s why I work so hard. I can’t let her down.”

“So that’s what drives you?” Kendall asked, his voice gentle. “The need to make them proud?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly. “I guess it is.”

The conversation had taken a decidedly personal turn. Diane felt exposed, vulnerable. She had revealed more than she intended, offering glimpses into her past, half-truths woven with genuine emotion. Kendall, on the other hand, seemed satisfied, a small smile playing on his lips. He had learned something new about her, something he thought brought them closer. But for Diane, it was a dangerous game, a tightrope walk between truth and deception, and she knew she couldn’t keep it up forever.

“I… I can relate to that, Diane,” Kendall said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. “My dad… I was never good enough for him. Still amn’t.” He looked away, his gaze lost in the swirling water of a nearby tank, as if re-living a painful memory. “I spent my whole life trying to make him proud. But I always fail. Every single time.”

He recounted a harrowing memory, his voice laced with bitterness. “Even after he had the stroke… I went to see him once he woke up. He could barely speak, but he still managed to call me a ‘fucking moron.’ Even on his deathbed, he couldn’t bring himself to say he was proud.” A shudder ran through him. “I’m terrified,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “Terrified that his dying words will be that I’m a failure.”

The raw emotion in his voice was unsettling. Diane, ever the opportunist, saw a chance to delve deeper, to gather more information about Logan Roy, the man behind the monster. This wasn't about genuine empathy; it was about the story, the information she desperately needed.

“Why?” she asked, her voice soft, feigning concern. “Why did you let him treat you like that?”

Kendall hesitated, a flicker of pain crossing his face. He looked at Diane, his eyes filled with a deep, almost desperate need for understanding. “He’s holding some shit over my head, to control me,” he admitted, his voice strained. 

Diane’s pulse quickened. This was it. This was the opening she’d been waiting for. His confession he murmured in his sleep last night: “I killed him. It was an accident.” 

“What is it?” she pressed gently, her voice laced with feigned sympathy. She had to tread carefully; pushing too hard would raise suspicion.

Kendall looked away again, his expression a mixture of shame and fear. He remained silent for a long moment, the only sound the gentle hum of the aquarium’s filtration system. The tension in the air was palpable.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t… It’s nothing… never mind,” he said, shaking his head slowly. 

She softened her expression, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Diane pressed further, her mind racing, trying to find a new angle to extract the information she craved. She remembered Kendall’s restless night, his night terror. “Was that what your nightmare was about last night?” she asked, her voice soft and concerned, tilting her head slightly. “Your dad?”

Kendall flinched, a visible ripple of discomfort passing over his face. He looked away, his gaze darting around the aquarium, landing on nothing in particular. The playful sea otters, the graceful jellyfish, the imposing sharks – none of it seemed to register. He was lost in his own private world of pain and fear.

He hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “No,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “It wasn’t about him.”

The curt response hung in the air, a clear signal that the subject was closed. Diane could see the shutters coming down, the walls rising back up around him. He wasn’t going to offer any more information, not willingly.

She tried a different tack, softening her tone, feigning a casual interest. “Nightmares can be so strange,” she said, forcing a light chuckle. “Sometimes they’re just random images and feelings, not really about anything specific.”

Kendall remained silent, his gaze fixed on the swirling water of a nearby tank. He didn’t respond, didn’t offer any further explanation. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Kendall abruptly changed the topic, the shift in his mood almost jarring. “Let’s go play with the penguins,” he announced, a forced lightness in his voice. He reached for Diane’s hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, and began walking briskly in their direction, as if trying to outpace the heavy emotions that had just hung between them.

As they walked, Diane’s mind replayed everything Kendall had just revealed. A strange feeling stirred within her, something she hadn’t anticipated. A flicker of… empathy? It was an unwelcome sensation, a crack in the carefully constructed wall she had built around herself. Kendall, the man she had pegged as powerful, perhaps even villainous, suddenly appeared different. He seemed like a little boy trapped in a man’s body, a broken soul struggling beneath a surface of wealth and privilege.

She saw him now, not as the entitled heir she had imagined, but as a victim of circumstance. He was trapped under the oppressive weight of his father, unable to break free. The image of the spoiled rich bachelor began to crumble, replaced by a more nuanced, complex picture. Perhaps his behavior, his flaws, were a direct result of his upbringing, of the tyrannical figure that loomed over his life.

Diane was slowly peeling back his layers, uncovering the pain and hurt he carried deep within. A father who was a tyrant, wielding his power like a weapon. His mother hadn’t just left; she had abandoned them. Abandoned him and his siblings in the midst of a bitter divorce, choosing material possessions, property, over her own children. A brother who had betrayed him, a wound that cut deeper than any physical injury. It was a devastating combination, a recipe for deep-seated trauma. The image of a villain that she had expected dissolved completely, replaced by the stark reality of a deeply wounded child.

Kendall hadn’t just been through a “terrible childhood”; he had endured a series of profound betrayals, wounds that had clearly never healed. It wasn’t just about being rich and privileged; it was about the absence of love, the lack of emotional support, the deep-seated feeling of being unwanted.

The penguins, with their comical waddle and playful antics, provided a temporary distraction. Diane was genuinely delighted by their antics, she pointed out their individual quirks, laughing as they slipped and slid on the ice. Kendall found himself smiling, drawn in by her infectious enthusiasm, his earlier melancholy momentarily forgotten.

But even as Diane laughed alongside him, the feeling of empathy lingered. It was a disconcerting sensation, one she struggled to reconcile with her mission. She was supposed to be objective, focused on the story, not emotionally invested in the subject. Yet, she couldn’t deny the shift in her perception of Kendall. He was no longer just a source of information, a pawn– but he was also a victim. 

The game had changed. It wasn't just about getting the story anymore; it was about something much more complicated, something she couldn't quite define.

—————————————————————————-

The afternoon was a promise of summer, a taste of the warmth to come. The Hamptons air, still carrying a hint of spring’s crispness, held the faintest whisper of salt and blooming beach roses. The sky, a brilliant, almost blinding blue, stretched endlessly overhead, the sun a benevolent presence warming their skin. From her perch on the yacht, Diane’s gaze swept across the scene: the coastline, a gentle curve of sand dunes and swaying beach grass, punctuated by the stately homes that lined the shore, their weathered shingles gleaming in the sunlight. The water, a vibrant turquoise, shimmered and danced, reflecting the sun’s rays like a thousand tiny diamonds. A few early sailboats, their white sails billowing in the gentle breeze, dotted the horizon, harbingers of the summer fleet soon to arrive.

Kendall, however, remained oblivious to the beauty surrounding him, lost in a deep, much-needed slumber. He was sprawled across a cushioned sunbed, his face turned towards the sun, absorbing its warmth like a cat basking in a sunbeam. He’d been wound tight all morning, a restless energy simmering beneath his usually controlled exterior, but the gentle rocking of the yacht and the warmth of the afternoon had finally coaxed him into a state of rare tranquility. His head rested comfortably on Diane’s bare thighs, his dark hair tousled, a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw.

Diane, seated on the edge of the sunbed, a well-worn paperback resting open in her lap, sipped her Prosecco, the tiny bubbles a pleasant tickle against her lips. The sun warmed her skin, but she was mindful of Kendall’s fair complexion. Every so often, she’d squeeze a generous dollop of high-SPF sunscreen onto her hand and gently rub it into his exposed back, her touch light and careful, avoiding the faint scars that marred his skin – she wondered how he got them, was his father so cruel?

He stirred in his sleep, a soft murmur escaping his lips. “Mmm… thanks,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He shifted slightly, nuzzling his face deeper into her thigh, a small, almost childlike gesture. For the first time in his life, someone was truly taking care of him, protecting him, not from physical harm, but from the constant, gnawing anxieties that plagued his mind. It was a small, almost insignificant act of care, but in its simplicity, it felt profoundly significant.

—————————————————————————-

After the sunset, they returned to the shore, the last vestiges of daylight painting the sky in hues of fading rose and soft lavender. Fine grains of sand clung to their skin. Diane was sprawled comfortably beside him on a beach blanket, his oversized Yale sweatshirt draped over her bikini, the sleeves swallowed by her small hands. 

It was a stark contrast to her usual meticulously curated appearance— the tailored skirts that skimmed her knees, the crisp blouses buttoned just so, the subtle but perfectly applied makeup that enhanced her features. This casual, almost childlike version of Diane, with her hair tousled by the sea breeze and her face bare of makeup. 

He knew it was pathetic, this almost obsessive focus on her appearance. He was a man who commanded boardrooms, negotiated billion-dollar deals, and yet, he was utterly captivated by the way the fading light caught the curve of her cheek, by the way her bare feet ruffled in the sand. He was pathetic, he knew that, and yet he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. Not at this moment. Not when she looked like this.

She looked so perfect, it was bordering on painful. It was a low, simmering ache in his gut, a tightening in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He swore it was driving him clinically insane. So good that it was making his genius brain, the one that could dissect complex financial models and strategize corporate takeovers, malfunction. And, if he was being brutally honest with himself, it was also making his downstairs ‘brain’ run on overdrive.

She began to trace patterns in the sky with her finger, her voice soft and hushed, as if sharing a sacred secret. “See that bright one there?” she asked, pointing towards a star just beginning to pierce the twilight. “That’s Arcturus, one of the brightest stars in the spring sky. It’s part of the constellation Boötes, the herdsman. You can find it by following the arc of the Big Dipper’s handle.”

Kendall followed her gaze, his eyes drawn to the emerging point of light. The sky was still transitioning from day to night, a gradient of deep blues and purples, making the few visible stars seem all the more precious. “It’s just starting to come out,” he murmured, a genuine sense of wonder in his voice.

Diane smiled, her eyes reflecting the nascent starlight. “Exactly,” she said. “It’s a sign of spring, a promise of warmer nights to come. And over there,” she continued, shifting her finger slightly, “that’s Leo, the lion. See how it kind of looks like a backwards question mark? Regulus is its brightest star, marking the lion’s heart.” She traced the constellation’s shape in the sky, her finger moving with a graceful precision. “It’s a powerful image, a symbol of strength and courage.”

“Strength,” Kendall repeated, the word catching in his throat. He’d spent so much of his life trying to project an image of strength, a mask that was constantly threatening to slip. The idea of genuine inner strength, the kind that Diane seemed to possess effortlessly, felt like a distant, unattainable dream.

“Yeah,” Diane said, her gaze still fixed on the heavens. “And if you look a little further down, you can see Virgo, associated with the harvest, another sign of the coming abundance of summer. Spring is all about new beginnings, right? A time for things to grow and bloom.” She paused, taking a deep breath of the cool, fragrant air. “It makes you think about possibilities, about what could be.”

Her words, her quiet enthusiasm, had a grounding effect on Kendall. The emerging stars, the ancient stories woven into the constellations, the promise of spring’s renewal, created a space outside of his own anxieties. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt present, connected to something larger than himself, anchored to the earth beneath him. The sand beneath him felt solid, the cool spring air on his skin felt refreshing, and the woman beside him, with her quiet wisdom and gentle spirit, felt like a lifeline in the encroaching darkness.

Kendall admired Diane’s side profile, she was beautiful, not in the polished, calculated way she often presented herself to the world, but in a raw, natural way that took his breath away. Spring was in the air, and it seemed to have breathed new life into her as well. The moonlight cast long shadows across the sand, illuminating the delicate curve of Diane’s cheek, the soft curve of her lips. 

"You look so beautiful," Kendall murmured, his voice low and husky, the sound barely audible above the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. He leaned in, gently cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly across her cheekbones. His touch was feather-light, hesitant, as if he were afraid she might shatter if he held her too tightly. And then he kissed her.

The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like a question being asked rather than a statement being made. Gentle. Nothing rushed. It wasn't the kind of kiss they'd shared before. Their previous encounters had been charged with a different kind of energy, a raw, almost desperate urgency fueled by lust, by the heat of the moment during sex. Those kisses had been demanding, possessive, frantic. 

This was different. This was tender, almost hesitant, a soft exploration rather than a passionate conquest. It was the first time they had kissed like this, fully clothed. The lines blurred in Diane’s mind; this felt dangerously close to real. 

She pulled back slightly, a flicker of confusion, perhaps even a hint of fear, in her eyes. 

Kendall, sensing her hesitation, didn't pull away. He simply stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes a silent plea, a desperate yearning for something he couldn't quite articulate. He wanted this connection, this moment, to be real, to mean something. He so desperately wanted the heavens above to answer the silent prayer in his heart, to grant him this one thing he craved above all else: genuine, unconditional love.

Diane got lost in his hazel eyes, those pools of vulnerability and longing. Against her better judgment, she leaned back in, her own hand reaching up to touch his arm. Their lips met again, this time with a greater sense of urgency, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Their lips moved in sync, it felt bizarre, wrong on so many levels. This wasn't supposed to happen. But for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to forget about her plan.

Kendall was kissing her like he was terrified. Terrified he would wake up and it would’ve all been a dream, a fleeting mirage in the desert of his loneliness. He held onto her as if she might disappear at any moment, his lips pressing against hers with a desperate, almost frantic tenderness. He rolled them over, a slow, deliberate movement that shifted their positions on the beach. Now, Diane straddled his hips, her knees sinking slightly into the cool, damp grains of sand. 

“Sit on my face,” Kendall pleaded, squeezing her ass. She frowned as he laid his head down, getting cozy with his head on the sand, still smirking, patting his mouth comically—an invitation. 

“What?” Diane asked not sure what to make of his unusual request. She knew it was a private beach but it still felt too exposed.

When she didn’t move he lifted his head back up, “Come on,” he urged her, tapping her hips to nudge her along, “let me taste you. Sit. On. My. Face.”

Kendall couldn't resist not eating her out whenever he had the chance. She slowly crawled up over him, hesitating once she was straddling his chest, unable to hold back a blush. His warm hands are quick to hook around her thighs, sliding his thumb over her hip bones as she hovered in front of his chin, “come closer.”

He lifted his head up when she finally scooted forward, still hovering. Kendall kissed her inner thigh, smirking as her hips bucked lower towards his touch. 

“Sacred I’m gonna bite?” His lips moved against her thigh, his stubble tickling her as he spoke.

“No, I don’t want to suffocate you.” She pushed her fingers through his hair, gripping at his roots.

“I wish you would, ” he groaned, pulling her lower so he didn’t have to crane his neck to taste her. He licked the wet spot on her bikini, lapping at her juices, moaning before flattening his tongue, dragging it up to her clit to suck lightly through the fabric. 

It wasn’t long before had enough of the thin material blocking his way, aggressively pulling on the strings over her hips to untie it, so he could finally lick her how he wanted. Which she quickly realized was mercilessly. He was hungry—starved for something only her pussy could satiate, drinking her in like he was dehydrated. It was intense. He ate with reverence, slurping loudly and humming in appreciation, his hot lips suctioning on her clit till she was seeing stars. 

Diane’s feedback was choppy, like her brain couldn’t sync up in time to react to his movements— to the sensations. It was all broken moans and shudders, the only thing consistent is the way she pulled his hair.

She was leaning more and more of her weight onto his face and rocking , occasionally lifting a bit when she remembered her self-control. But after she lifted one too many times, Kendall’s fingers tightened around her thighs, holding her close with an ironclad grip— making her squirm.

Kendall was delighted as he peered up at her beneath drunk lashes, eyes just as dazed as his mind as he watched her sumptuous body move on top of him. She tasted like cloyingly honey on the tip of his tongue, her essence lingering in the back of his throat every time he swallowed. He chased the slick beads as they dripped down her plump thighs, greedy mouth attacking her soft insides as she moaned on top of him, her pussy drooling and clenching around nothing as the hot coil inside of her twisted tighter. He groaned against her searing skin, his hot breath tickling her sensitive flesh as every hair on the nape of her neck stood up.

"So beautiful" Kendall muttered, voice dripping with reverence. "You look so beautiful tonight."

He etched the intimate scene into his mind as a pleasant itch tingled at the base of his skull, fingers twitching around her plump hips as he squeezed the pillowy soft skin. His tongue lapped at the dripping seam of her cunt; prying open the puffy folds as indulged in more of your slick nectar flowing from her core like a river. 

Diane almost choked on a hiccup of pleasure, her clit weakly kicking against the press of his nose as he sealed his mouth over her entrance. Her blood simmered in her veins, pulling and tugging on his raven locks, hips shaking as she tried to contain her sudden spike in arousal twisting low in the pit of her gut. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of her lashes as stars swirled in her vision, voice stinging her throat as she struggled to breathe. 

Her legs trembled, her full weight failing upon his lips and tongue—and Kendall couldn’t have been more grateful . It didn't take long for his mouth to become sloppy,  drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. 

Diane’s vision began to blur. She couldn’t tell if it was from tears welling up or the overwhelming sensation building in her core. She was dripping so, so sweetly, and Kendall beneath her hummed, hungry, ravenous, he needed more, he wanted to eat her whole. His tongue slowly circled her bud, and oh fuck, he pulled and it tugged in it, opening the floodgates. The building pressure unfurled, Diane threw her head back, whimpering. And kendall drank it all in.

But he didn’t stop there. He wasn’t done just yet.

He held her in place, still latched onto her clit as she rode out her orgasm. Because cumming once wasn’t enough for him. It didn’t matter that his chin was wet with her, that his tongue was soaked with the taste of her. Kendall wanted to wrack her body until she had nothing left to give. So he kept on sucking and swirling his tongue around her clit, until she came again and again until she was spent, until she screamed without sound, until the stars behind her eyelids faded away into black.

Her hips convulsed around him, putting him in a headlock of sorts, before she released him, her body fell back against his raised knees, he caught her, letting her body take a moment from his torturous tongue.

“Could eat you all night,” he groaned, her legs still open, inches away from his mouth, as her back rested against his thighs, her head draped over his knees. He watched her pink, puffy lips glisten with his residual spit and her own sweet juices.

Diane had gone non-verbal by that point, her body was still shaking as she looked up at the vast expanse of the sky. Kendall moved his middle finger up and down along her slit before taking his middle and index finger to spread open her sensitive lips, admiring her sex dripping for him. He loved the way it glistened. He watched as her walls clenched around nothing, practically begging him to fill her up.

“Kendall, please,” she begged him. Her voice, still raspy. He did a double take at her disheveled appearance. Her eyes bloodshot with her mascara running, smudging her under eyes.

He didn't respond as he spread her lips further apart, letting the cold breeze hit her entrance. Her face heated up while Kendall fully exposed her.  

“You have the tightest little pussy,” he commented, feeling how her entrance wanted to take in his thumb, but he didn't push it in. Not yet.

He finally slipped a finger inside her. Her walls instinctively squeezed around his thick digit. She cried out in pleasure as she squirmed more. The pad of his finger slowly rubbed and pressed firmly on that spongey spot on her walls. She arched her back letting out a strangled cry.

Kendall gently pushed another finger inside her. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he began pumping them in and out of her slowly. She felt his cock twitch under her. His fingers were knuckle deep, he continued thrusting them inside her. He curled them up and made sure to pay close attention to her g-spot, pressing on it and massaging it. Making her walls clench up, her toes curling in the sand.

“You okay, baby?” Kendall checked in, but his fingers didn’t slow.

“Y-yes… I’m okay, keep going,” she stammered out, as she tried to keep focus.

He chuckled and picked up the pace. His fingers were making her pussy create the most vulgar wet sounds she'd ever heard. Her slick soaking his hand as he fucked her. Her legs shook and he took his other hand to rub tight circles over her clit. 

Kendall didn't stop. His fingers still moved in and out of her while his other hand paid attention to her throbbing clit. He milked her pussy as she rode out her release. He finally slowed down and stilled his hands. Carefully, he removed his fingers with a loud shlick . A string of her juices still connecting to them. He brought them up to his lips, sticking them in his mouth.

Kendall hummed at the taste of her. “You’re so sweet.” She wanted to hide her face, her eyes were glossy, illuminated by the moonlight.

“You're crazy,” Diane whispered, feeling like she just had an out of body experience. He pulled her back down, their chests pressed together, his tongue dancing in her mouth. 

(*siri play champage coast by blood orange; 3:01*)

A rogue wave, emboldened by the rising tide, surged up the beach, engulfing their legs. The sudden rush of icy water sent a jolt through Kendall, a flash of annoyance tightening his features. He scowled at his soaked clothes, the sand now stubbornly clinging to the damp fabric.

But then he looked at Diane.

Her reaction was the complete opposite. She threw her head back and let out a burst of pure, unrestrained laughter—a sound so genuine and carefree, it was infectious. Before Kendall could process his irritation, Diane was running towards the water’s edge, jumping into the sea with a joyful cry, submerging herself completely. The cool water seemed to revitalize her, like a dried-up starfish returned to the ocean.

She resurfaced, her hair plastered to her face, water dripping from her eyelashes, but her smile was radiant. “It’s amazing!” she shouted, her voice echoing across the beach. “Come on in!”

Kendall watched her, a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement swirling within him. He was still annoyed about his ruined clothes, but Diane’s infectious joy was hard to resist. He couldn’t understand her carefree attitude, her ability to embrace the unexpected.

He hesitated, glancing at his expensive, now soaked shoes. But Diane’s laughter continued to beckon. He kicked off his shoes and waded into the cold water.

Suddenly, Diane splashed him, a playful wave aimed directly at his chest. Kendall gasped, feigning offense. “Oh, you’re going down!” he shouted, retaliating with a splash of his own. Playful splashes and shrieks echoed across the quiet beach, a stark contrast to Kendall’s usual heavy silence. He chased Diane through the shallows, the cold water a shocking but welcome sensation. As he lunged for her, catching her in his arms, they both tumbled into the waves with a shared cry.

For Kendall, the feeling was almost foreign. He had forgotten what it felt like to simply laugh. The last time he remembered feeling this carefree was a distant memory, a faded snapshot from a childhood that felt like it belonged to someone else. His life had become a carefully constructed performance, a constant striving for his father’s approval. There was no room for joy in the rigid structure he had built around himself. Every action was weighed against his father’s expectations, the burden of his past mistakes, the fear of his uncertain future.

But in that moment, in the cool ocean water, with Diane’s laughter ringing in his ears, the weight lifted. The years of pressure, the constant striving, the deep-seated fear – all of it seemed to wash away with the waves. He was just Kendall, a man playing in the ocean with a woman who made him feel something he couldn’t define. It was more than just attraction; it was connection, a shared moment of pure joy.

He looked at Diane, her face flushed with laughter, and a genuine smile spread across his own. He had forgotten the simple pleasure of being present, of letting go of his worries and simply enjoying another person’s company. She had somehow managed to chip away at the walls he had built around himself, revealing a part of him he thought had long since died. It was terrifying.

They continued their playful fight, splashing and chasing each other until they were both breathless and shivering. They collapsed onto the sand, their wet clothes clinging to their bodies.

“Come on,” Kendall said, extending a hand to her. “Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold.” He gently pulled her to her feet, noticing she was shivering slightly. The sand squished between her toes with every step.

He then bent down, scooping her up into his arms before she could protest. Diane gasped, a surprised laugh escaping her lips. “I can walk,” she protested, though her voice lacked conviction.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice firm but gentle, his eyes filled with concern. “And walking in this wet sand isn’t going to help. Besides,” he added with a playful grin, a hint of teasing in his tone, “I think I’ve worn you out tonight?”

Diane met his gaze, a small smile playing on her lips. She didn’t argue, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing counterpoint to the crashing waves. Then, she drifted off.

Kendall carried Diane back to the house, her small frame surprisingly light in his arms. He climbed the porch steps and entered the warm interior, noticing her breathing had become slow and even. He carried her directly to the bedroom and gently laid her on the bed. The wet fabric of her clothes clung uncomfortably to her skin, so he carefully removed his soaked sweatshirt from her, being mindful not to wake her.

He fetched a soft towel and dried her off. He didn't care about the sand that fell onto the sheets or the saltwater that clung to their hair. All that mattered was Diane, the peaceful expression on her sleeping face, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

He found a clean pair of his sweatpants and a soft t-shirt and dressed her, pulling the soft fabric over her still-damp skin. He then lay down beside her, pulling the covers over them both and tightening his hold slightly, drawing her closer. He had never felt this sense of peace, this quiet contentment. It was a feeling that defied explanation—a simple knowing that everything, in that moment, was exactly as it should be.

It was just them, in that quiet room, with the sound of the ocean as their only companion. It felt perfect—a brief escape from the complexities of their lives, a moment of respite. For Kendall, it was a glimpse of something he hadn't known he was missing: a taste of peace and connection. And for Diane, in her sleep, it was a moment of respite from her carefully constructed plan, a brief surrender to the simple comfort of being held.