#stewy hosseini imagines

[chaithetics]

For a fluffy request: Stewy taking care of a sick reader

Couchside Comfort

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) Reader/ Stewy Hosseini x reader (can be read as either the usual Roy reader or Roy-less reader as there's only one small reference to Shiv Roy at the end)

Word count: 2.5K

Author's note: Thank you so much for this request Nonnie! I absolutely adore this type of fluff! I know you probably meant sick like a cold or something minor but this felt like the perfect opportunity to do a chronically ill reader, I then had a lovely ask regarding endo from @emeraldsandelderberries and I was convinced to finish off the idea about a reader having their period and making this ask endo related. I hope you don't mind Nonnie, if you had another illness in mind or wanted something more generic, please do let me know and I can do that! I think having chronically ill readers and fics is so important and endo is so important, so this is dedicated to those two and anyone reading who has endo, a chronic illness, gynae pain etc. You all deserve a Stewy who will take care of you and I hope you all enjoy this! I'm very tempted to write more chronically ill fics! As usual, reblogs and comments are more than welcome and appreciated! PS has not been proofread (shocker!)

Content/chapter warning: established relationship, mentions of endometriosis, chronic illness,pain, periods, fluffy fluff. There is no physical description of the reader but they are AFAB/have endo.

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

It had been an absolutely miserable day, you’d woken up feeling a bit bloated and with an ache in your lower back. It wasn’t a great feeling but having dealt with a chronic illness for a significant amount of your life that flared up randomly and consistently through your cycle, you had sadly become used to waking up with discomfort and bloating. At least with your career and home life, you didn’t need to worry about the oxymoron of wearing jeans with an endo belly. 

But the morning had very quickly progressed from mild (for you) discomfort to a full-blown flareup with the culprit being your period. You ended up staying home and having a sick day then going to work, you didn’t text or call Stewy as there wasn’t much he could do. Endometriosis wasn’t something that had an easy guide to fix and cure, it was unpredictable it fluctuated and maybe if you just rested you might feel better by the time Stewy came home. Which you knew was unlikely anyway. 

You’d taken anti-inflammatories, had an obscenely long magnesium bath, you’d tried napping but you couldn’t get into a position anywhere that was comfortable enough and didn’t hurt. Hours had painfully, slowly gone by and you were now curled up on the sofa watching one of your favourite comfort films Dead Poets Society, even though it always made you cry. 

Stewy was home a bit earlier than usual, he wasn’t expecting you to be home already but he knew you were as he could hear the sound of the television playing something. You hear the door open and the sound of him coming in and the usual routine of shoes off and so forth. You hadn’t called or texted so he just assumes that you finished work early and you’re unwinding on the couch. 

“What are we watching?” He calls out as he follows the noise of the television to you. 

“Dead Poet’s Society.” You tiredly and quietly call out as you feel a new shooting pain travel through your abdomen. 

“Why are you watching a sad movie? This one always makes you cry.” Stewy asks as he can now see you and he knows the answer before he even finishes that question. 

You’re awkwardly curled up on the couch with a blanket around you, an electric heat pad tucked into your pants against your abdomen to provide some relief against the sharp, pelvic stabbing. There’s water and chocolate nearby. Your face is in a grimace and Stewy can see that there are some tears in your eyes, he’s been around long enough to know that they’re a product of both your physical pain and tears from this film. 

“Do you want to watch something else?” You softly ask rather than directly answering as you close your eyes, trying to sink further into the cushion on the sofa. It was quickly starting to feel like the migraine that had been haunting you for most of the day was coming back and sinking its cruel claws into you. 

“Literally anything else that isn’t so depressing.” He bluntly says as he watches you carefully. He doesn’t really complain but he’s never really understood the whole sad comfort movie phenomenon, he’s hoping something a little lighter might be a better distraction.  

“I have my period.” You say as you squeeze your eyes with another grimace, it’s a shoot wave and it feels like it’s poking your ovary. 

“Who directed that one?” He asks as he comes closer to you. 

He immediately knows the grimace and his heart pangs at that, he can tell you’re in pain but it seems like you’re in a state that you can put up with a bit of his humour. He’s hoping that it’ll at least make you smile a little or distract you just a small amount from the searing pain, even if it’s only for a brief minute. 

“I guess you since I’m not pregnant.” You say with a small smirk trying to focus on Stewy’s kind teasing as a distraction. 

“Huh, interesting, I don’t think I remember that one. Who was in it?” He questions, as he kneels down on the floor next to where your face is on the sofa. You chuckle a little, the smile feels nice but the small laugh does send another shooting pain up your side and you gasp at that before you’re able to respond. 

“Well, not you since, again, I’m not pregnant.” You try to tease back. 

“Noted.” Stewy chuckles with a small smile as he carefully smooths your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he pulls your blanket up around you a bit more. “Do you want some peppermint tea baby?”

“Yes please.” You reach for his hand to hold it as he kneels next to you. His hand quickly envelops yours, it’s nice and warm, comforting. But Stewy is always comforting. You wonder for a moment if it would be a better heat pad than your current one or maybe if he could just be an additional one. 

“We’re out of berries.” You sadly whisper as your mind tries to focus on anything but the pain and a priority for you is of course that fruit, it’s one of the only things you feel like you could stomach right now, the chocolate had gotten too sweet far too quickly. 

“We’re not. I’ll make some tea for you and get some, okay baby?” Stewy says as you continue to hold his hand and he strokes your cheek with his thumb, you can’t help but melt into his kind, safe touch. 

“I don’t want to move, and I don’t want you to go.” You groan out as you curl inwards, trying to find some position that isn’t too uncomfortable while internally it feels like your organs and the endometriosis tissue are going off to another war against each other and you already know who has won. 

“I’m not going anywhere. They’re frozen, there’s always an emergency stash for you.” Stewy reassures you as he continues to stroke your face and presses a few more soft kisses onto your head as he becomes more worried at your pain, he often thinks it and he knows you do too but moments like this always surprise at how awful such a common illness can be and he wishes that there was a cure, some magical treatment to completely prevent the flare-ups, that it wasn’t all trial and error and ridiculous potential side effects. 

“Really?” You question, your eyes opening at that. That simple, thoughtful piece of knowledge is without a doubt, the highlight of your awful day. You’re so in love with him and grateful for him. You smile a little bit more at that. 

“Yes… But it’s that bad you don’t want to move?” Stewy asks visibly concerned. As any partner would, he hates seeing you go through this and it always concerns him, how awful it is and that not much can really be done. 

“If I move it eliminates the possibility of the couch swallowing me whole.” You nonchalantly answer. 

It had been a fantasy you’d had when today’s endo flared up, the internal uprising had begun and it was still a very appealing fantasy. You were certain that if the couch did swallow you whole it would be rather soothing and you wouldn’t feel any pain. 

“I guess I skimped out on this couch babe, it doesn’t have that feature. I’m sorry baby. But I did it because I know of your wanting to be couch-swallowed tendencies.” He teases as he continues to stroke your face and you giggle a little at his ridiculous joke. 

Stewy’s many things, ridiculously handsome, intelligent, savvy and witty but he’s also extremely gentle and even goofy. You’re so grateful for him and he’s always this way with you, he’s so loving and you don’t think there’s ever been someone who has seen this all and has continued to show up, to support you and make you feel so loved. You wished this migraine wasn’t here and you could take in his physical beauty and not just his emotional beauty. 

“I’m going to make you some tea and grab the berries, okay baby?” He asks softly in the sweetest voice he has, it’s a voice reserved only for you. It’s literal warm honey to your ears and soul. You nod, he kisses your hand and gets up to head to the kitchen. 

You close your eyes again and snuggle into the blanket more. The couch still hasn’t swallowed you whole, unfortunately, which is surprising considering how large it is. But you suppose that’s a good thing since Stewy’s here now. You listen to the soft patter of his feet that you can hear in the kitchen and him humming as he opens cupboards, and makes the cup of tea. 

After a couple of minutes, he comes back over, placing a bowl of the aforementioned berries onto the coffee table and has 2 mugs in his other hand. You move to try sitting up and he sits on the end of the sofa as he carefully hands you the mug of the warm peppermint tea. It’s so nice and warm in your hands, you take a few sips of it and then a large gulp, wanting the herbal medicinal effects to hurry up and kick in. You hold the warm mug in your hands for a few moments, basking in the heat as Stewy sits next to you with his hand running up and down your back, soothingly tracing gentle patterns across it. 

You lean over to place the mug carefully onto a coaster on the coffee table, you try to stretch a little as you know movement will help but it feels impossible. You then lean back and curl up into Stewy’s side but after a few moments you slink down until you’re lying on the couch again but with your head and part of your upper body curled up into his lap. You close your eyes as you feel the gentle movements of his stomach moving a little with each breath and the warmth of his cosy, signature turtleneck. 

“Do you have a migraine as well honey?” He asks softly and you nod. 

“It’s been on and off all day, like a goddamn ghost haunting me in a haunted house.” You exasperatedly sigh. 

His heart breaks at that and he quickly moves a hand to gently massage at your lower back, he knows it always gets tense and is frequently a source of pain during your flare-ups. But he moves his other hand so that he can gently press a bit of pressure to the pressure point near your temple to try and bring you a bit of relief from your migraine. 

“Is that okay?” He gently asks as he continues. 

You smile at the feeling, of having such gentleness, love and support. Despite the pain and how cheesy it sounds, just his presence is already helping and giving you a bit of comfort during this awful pain. You nod quickly, moving your hand up to give a gentle squeeze to the hand massaging your lower back. 

“Yes sweetie, thank you. I love you so much.” 

“I love you too baby.” He says as he continues with what he’s doing. The film eventually ends and he’s happy about that, he’s silently praying that your next choice might be something a bit lighter or that you’ll be open to a minor suggestion, although he totally respects that not being the case. Today is a day with you and your comfort being the focus. 

You’ve had some more meds and you’re still in pain but you’re feeling a little bit more comfortable with movement and having an extra blanket around you. You sit up for a moment to drink some more of the tea and eat some of the mostly thawed-out frozen berries. There’s something about the cold taste of them that helps during a flare you swear. You look at Stewy and the migraine is definitely currently feeling a little bit better. 

You’re in awe of his gentleness and the way that those deep brown doe eyes of his are looking at you with adoration, even with you looking and feeling absolutely miserable. He’s always been handsome but there’s something even more special about him in moments like this you think. 

“Thank you for-” You start to say before he can cut you off. 

“You don’t need to thank me for this baby.” “But-”

“No, I don’t even want you to try.” He says with a playful but kind smirk on his face as he looks at you. 

You laugh a little and nod. Then lean over to give him a kiss on the lips, it’s soft, gentle, warm and loving. You feel yourself melt into the gentle but brief kiss, and his hands gently rub at your back as he kisses you back softly. It’s a sweet kiss and when you pull away, you place your hand on the side of his cheek, feeling the perfectly trimmed dark stubble of his beard. 

“I really do love you, you know?” You say with a small smile. 

“I know, it kind of helps in these romantic situations.” He teases and you roll your eyes before moving back down to lay in his lap again. “But I love you too baby.” He has a hand stroking your face again and you can feel yourself starting to feel like maybe napping is finally an option. “Did you want a bath?” He asks after a moment of thought. 

“I had one a few hours before you came home.” You answer tiredly. 

“Did you want another one?” He asks in that ridiculously sweet voice that would absolutely melt you if you weren’t in so much pain. 

“Maybe later.” You pause for a moment thinking while in his lap and enjoying being surrounded by him and the warmth from his body, the heat pads, and the blankets. “Did you want to watch Little Women?” You ask a little bit more cheerily. You hear Stewy sigh a little at that.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He’s so glad it’s something a bit happier than Dead Poets Society. “I think I’m more handsome than Laurie.” He says it almost absentmindedly as the film starts. 

“You are.” You immediately agree, he is, without a doubt and always has been, no matter what adaptation you watch. Although the 2019 one is a favourite in this household. “But you are an Amy.”

“What?” He asks in shock. 

“You are!” You respond with a smirk.  

“If you weren’t in excruciating pain right now I’d consider biting you.” He says it mockingly and you giggle a little at that. 

“Are you saying you don’t want to play bitey?” You tease. Knowing that as you’d gotten older that was not a normal game in normal households.

“Well, I know for a fact that you don’t like bitey.” Stewy immediately says, it was a fact, Shiv was always known for taking the game too far. “But I just can’t believe you’d say that baby, that’s cruel. I’m so not an Amy.”

#stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini x you #stewy hosseini x roy reader #stewy hosseini x roy!reader #stewy hosseini x f reader #stewy hosseini imagine #stewy hosseini imagines #stewy hosseini fluff #stewy hosseini fanfiction #stewy hosseini fanfic #stewy succession #succession #succession roy reader #succession hbo #hbo succession #succession fanfiction #succession fanfic #succession fic #succession fandom #arian moayed #arian moayed fanfic #arian moayed fanfiction #arian moayed characters #endometriosis #endometriosis writers #endometriosis reader #chronically ill reader #chronic illness reader #chronic illness

[laundy]

After 3 months of radio silence following Gojo’s acquisition of Waystar Royco, Stewy meets up with Kendall.

#im on every kind of copium you could possibly imagine #sorry the format is right to left cus my brain is manga-pilled #succession #kendall roy #stewy hosseini #stewy/kendall #kenstewy #succession spoilers

[thesmallworldofsamizayn]

do you remember what your dad did to you as a kid? I was there. I was THERE. stewy went to dinners at the roy mansion and he watched logan terrorize his kids, he was there for it. god. years ago one of the great kenstewy fic writers commented on how stewy never raises his voice at kendall even when he’s angry, and never gets physically aggressive either, how his hands are always in his pockets in the first friend card scene, and how this speaks to knowing kendall’s past, having seen first hand what logan’s fits of rage did to his best friend. and now he gets to watch that friend dedicate himself to becoming his dad, the very thing he was always trying to get him away from. because he remembers what logan did to him as a kid, he was there. kendall melted into that hug like it was second nature to put his head right there on stewy’s shoulder, and he cried on it when he’s only done that in his absolute lowest moments with the physical affection from his family. cause they knew each other as kids and stewy was there for everything. im sorry i know we’ve already known all this for years and this is literally the thesis of kenstewy but like, it wasn’t actually the text of the show before

#succession #kendall roy the no.1 boy #kendall roy #stewy hosseini #kenstewy #the way i don't have to imagine what it looks like when kendall cries on stewy's shoulder and stewy closes his eyes and holds him........

[hoom]

Or it will feel like forever.

#imagine outcunting the cuntress of cuntland... that's stewy hosseini for you #succession #successionedit #2 #caroling collingwood #stewy hosseini #stewy #GOD their joing salt & pepper slay... literally top 2 characters other than the sibs

[tennant-davids]

"why did they cut xyz..." sure yes definitely sometimes, but i would have actually begged them to take this one back if they'd left it in

#easy to say in hindsight knowing who they ended up writing him to be and how arian plays him #but they weren't writing a dad there is enough in the dialogue to show that #imagine them actually trying to tie him down with kids terrible awful idea #succession #stewy hosseini #succession scripts #.txt #*scripts

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Clandestine. Part Two.

The affair was always a ticking time bomb. No one could have predicted how big the explosion would be.

Part One. Part Three.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female Roy Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing. so much angst. sorry not sorry <3

Word Count - 1.7k

Author's Note - thank you thank you thank you for all of the love on clandestine!! it makes me so happy that so many people love reading stewy fics, because there is a criminal lack of them on here. i am more than happy to provide <3 as always, feedback and reblogs are massively appreciated !!

Series Masterlist.

Masterlist. Requests.

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?”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're half awake and disorientated. Stewy got up to find out who was at the door 10 minutes ago, and frankly, you're getting worried. Against your better judgement, you throw on his shirt from the night before and make your way out of the bedroom.

You enter the living room to be met face to face with Kendall. Shit.

You briefly wonder if you can play it off, fabricate a story, tell him it's not what it looks like!

Apart from, it's exactly what it looks like.

Someone from Kendall's team saw you and Stewy leave the gala together. And now you're here, in his living room, wearing nothing but his shirt. And your shoes are by the front door. And there's a wine glass with your lipstick print on it abandoned on the counter.

There's no getting out of this one.

Stewy wants to scream, yell at you to go back to his room. He wants to pick you up and throw you out of sight, praying Kendall hasn't noticed all the tell tale signs. But it's too late. He has.

"Okay. Uh - what the fuck is going on?"

Kendall asks the question while looking between the two of you like some sort of cartoon character doing a double take. It doesn't require a genius to figure it out, but Kendall needs to hear one of you say it out loud.

"Listen, Ken-"

"Ken, don't get mad-"

You both speak at the same time, verbally tripping over each other. You've never actually discussed what you'd do or say if you got found out. You both just always naively assumed it wouldn't happen.

You sit down on the edge of the couch, and look at your brother earnestly.

"Ken, I'm not going to sit here and lie to you. It isn't fair. But you can't get mad when I tell you the truth."

"I'll be the judge of that," he mutters sassily. You decide the backtalk is a result of his confusion, and give him a pass.

"Will you come and sit with me, please? The standing is making me nervous. I feel like I'm on trial."

"You might be. I haven't decided yet."

You can't tell if he's joking. He's certainly not smiling.

Kendall moves to sit down next you. Stewy follows, perching himself on the opposite end to give you space. Close enough if you need him, far enough that it won't upset your brother more.

"Start talking," he commands, still confused.

"It's... well I - we - me and Stewy, we're -"

"Together," Stewy finishes for you. Kendall glares at him, and he decides he'll keep his mouth shut for a while.

"Yeah, we're together," you continue. "We have been for over a year. It isn't just sex, or anything. I'm in love with him."

It's weird to finally bear this truth after keeping it a secret for so long. It feels wrong, but also refreshing - like a bitter lemon on a hot day.

Kendall is scarily silent.

"You're... kidding, right?" he asks, finally breaking through the quiet.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" you question, anger bubbling up. "It's my life, Kendall. It actually doesn't matter who I date. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make a difference."

He looks at you incredulously.

"You're so fuckin' naive. How can you sit here and tell me this doesn't change anything?"

You go to speak, but he continues.

"You lied to me, first off. Both of you. For God knows how long-"

"Kendall-"

"Let me fucking finish."

You shrink back into the couch, willing it to swallow you.

"You both lied to me. You broke my trust... and uh, that fucking hurts, actually. And then there's the business side of things. You work for Waystar. Stewy is a board member. That's a conflict of interest."

You scoff at him, but then realise he's deadly serious.

"... A conflict of interest?"

"It's against company policy. How am I going to trust you? How is anyone? Information might get leaked. What if I tell you something, and then you tell Stewy? And he tells Sandy and Sandi, and then the Pierces, and all of a sudden nothing is private anymore. I. Can't. Trust. You."

Tears are welling up in your eyes quicker than you can control. You're trying to take deep breaths, begging yourself not to cry in front of Kendall.

"You're breaking my fucking heart, Ken," you whisper.

"Yeah? Well I walked in here this morning, and you broke mine first."

A choked sob escapes you, and the floodgates open. Fresh, hot tears sprint down your cheeks, landing in your lap. Stewy can't stand to sit and watch any longer.

"Okay, man, that's enough. This isn't fair."

"What's not fair is the two people I trust the most both lying to my face for a year. That's what isn't fucking fair."

With that, Kendall stands up and strides towards the front door, slamming it behind him as he leaves. The minute he's gone, Stewy is wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"It's okay, baby," he murmurs, stroking your hair. "He'll come around. We'll be okay. If we stick together, we'll be okay."

His reassurances are only making you cry harder, sobs escaping you uncontrollably. You eventually exhaust yourself, falling into a restless sleep in Stewy's arms on the couch.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You wake up in bed. You've temporarily forgotten the events of the morning, before it all comes crashing back down around you suddenly. Distantly, you can hear Stewy in the kitchen, talking on the phone. You look around the room, and know what you have to do.

You leave the bedroom with a bag in hand, throwing it onto the ground as you grab your shoes. Stewy clocks you, and hangs up the phone.

"Can I call you back? Thanks, man. I'll see you tomorrow."

He runs over to where you're slipping your heels on, precariously balanced against the side of the couch.

"Honey, where are you going?" he questions, panic washing over him at your frantic state. "Wait, have you packed a bag?"

He's trying to catch your eyes, but you keep looking away, desperate to avoid his unrelenting gaze.

"I'm going home."

A pause.

"... This is your home."

You knew he'd say that. It hurts just the same.

"No, Stewy, this is your home. My apartment is across town."

"You haven't been there in months. All your stuff is here. Baby, talk to me. What's going on? Did Kendall get in your head?"

"Kendall's right!" you shout, trying to pick up your bag. Stewy gets there first and grabs it, flinging it behind him, out of your reach.

"About what? He's just in shock, baby! He's confused and he feels betrayed. You don't owe him fuckin' anything. Not after everything that family has put you through."

"They're still my family. I can't lose my entire family, Stewy!"

"What kind of fucking family stab each other in the back? Lie to each other? Sell each other out for business? You're better off without them and you know it."

You know he's right. You're trying to convince yourself he isn't.

"You heard what he said! He won't trust me anymore. No one will. It's shitty, but my job is important to me. I can't be known as the Roy liability."

"Trust me, honey, you're the least likely to be named the Roy liability."

"That's not the point! You're not listening to me. I'm the youngest, I've had to fight for respect every fucking day of my life. I'm finally where I deserve to be. I can't throw it all away for... for love!"

Stewy flinches like you've punched him in the gut. He takes a step back and leans against the kitchen island, trying to keep his balance.

"What happened to 'you and me against the world', huh?" he murmurs.

"I think I got too wrapped up in this - in us. I was stupid to think it could work. We both were."

"I wasn't," he replies defiantly. "I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew it would be really fucking difficult and I loved you anyway."

Stewy swears his hard breaks so hard, the both of you hear it shatter. A silent tear rolls down his cheek, big brown eyes filled with sadness.

"I'm not sorry for loving you," you whisper. "I'm sorry for a lot of things, but never for loving you."

"If you meant that, you wouldn't be giving up."

You duck your head, unable to look at him any longer.

"This isn't giving up. This is... quitting while we're ahead. If we keep going, we'll just end up having a huge, horrible, public breakup," you stop, and take a deep breath. "I think we were always doomed to fail."

Stewy thinks about the diamond ring that sits in a box in the top drawer of his nightstand. Doomed to fail.

You finally look up at him, and all the air leaves your lungs. You've never seen him look so defeated, so vulnerable. You're the cause of this. And you hate yourself for it.

You pad across the kitchen and pick up your bag from where he threw it, before stopping in front of him.

"I don't regret you, Stewy Hosseini. I never will."

With that, you stride out of the front door, closing it gently behind you. Stewy is left, cold and empty, in the apartment that no longer feels like home.

so... part 3??

Stewy Tag List -

@shawty-writes-a-little

@616wilsons

@justacaliforniandreamer

@isuspectitwasthenargles

#stewy hosseini x roy!reader #stewy hosseini x roy reader #stewy hosseini x oc #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini #stewy succession #stewy hosseini x female reader #stewy hosseini x you #stewy hosseini x reader fluff #stewy hosseini x reader angst #stewy hosseini smut #stewy hosseini fluff #stewy hosseini angst #succession fanfic #succession fic #succession #succession imagine #stewy hosseini imagine #succession fluff #succession smut #succession angst #succession x reader #arian moayed #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy

[kendallville]

You don't see a ton of friends.

They are deeply unmoored.

They don't realize that there's a percentage of poison in the IV.

Jesse Armstrong for New York Times.

#Can you imagine open-ended finale #That WOULD be annoying #succession #jesse armstrong #succession finale #Kendall has a friend #kenstewy #stewy hosseini #kendall roy

[bowieandqueen11]

Stewy Hosseini Being Jealous Would Include...

Request: hiii could you do jealous stewy headcanons? i love your writing!!

Thank you so much, that’s very kind of you!! I’m so sorry if this is awful, I need to get used to writing for Stewy but he’s literally a bisexual icon I feel so seen, this gif literally altered my brain chemistry <3

Also I hope you don’t mind, I did this one as F!reader but I’m happy to write another one for any other gender as well!

Warning: strong language, mentions of drugs, and this one is quite NSFW guys, so 18+ please!

My god I don’t think I’ve written much NSFW in the last couple of years, so I’m pretty nervous!! This will probably be a rare occurrence, but I thought I’d do a special treat for Jealous!Stewy ;) I’m still genuinely so scared to post this lmao

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @divorcedtom.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Jealousy is an emotion that doesn’t sit well with Stewy Hosseini. Not at all. I feel like Stewy isn’t the guy to play around once he has an actual, solid, going steady partner; he’s grown up as a big mama’s boy, and that’s kind of rubbed off on him - well, when he’s not out partying and doing drugs in the unsavoury bleak bathrooms of New York’s nightclubs, that is. As the relationship grows stronger and stronger, so too does Stewy become more and more possessive: to the point that backhand tactics such as trying to woo you over into whatever supposedly lucrative deal Waystar’s in the throw of at the moment feels incredibly personable. 

What can I say? They know how to hit the man where it hurts. To pierce him, sliding that muddy knife in past the decorum, past the old-money mixed with new guise, past the Wall Street asshole façade, right into his soft heart. The Roys are toying with him: acting as if he’s going to chase that twenty four gold carrot on a string, and if he won’t,  they’ll just find another way to coax him into the darkness.

He’s affronted. He’s annoyed. But Stewy has had many, many years to learn how to handle and best utilise fly-swatters. His parents raised him to be better - to be extraordinary, fearless, level headed, clear cut. This man does not show off his cards unless he has to, and although his heart is beating ferociously at the sight of you being swindled by another man, he keeps it firmly from slipping down to his sleeve. 

He almost laughs out loud when he realises that it’s fucking Tom Wambsgams the siblings have sent over to woo you. Shiv must have been training him again from the way he watches, hawk-eyed, as Tom swings his arms by his sides and leans over onto the bar, blocking your view of the rest of the room. Training your eyes back to his beady eyes, letting out that whale of a laugh that nearly makes Stewy shudder into his cocktail. 

It’s grating on him, the way he’s acting. And Stewy doesn’t appreciate the feeling.

He drops the empty glass of on some passing waiter’s empty tray, and then struts over to the encounter like a cocked peacock; he makes sure to straighten up his watch on the way over, to fix the lapels of his jacket so they were perfectly straight. He wanted to look immaculate before he walked onto the stage and joined the performance again. You glance up at him with a knowing grin as he walks over to stand just slightly behind your back. He winks at you for a second, teeth scraping against his bottom lip before he inclines his head and looks up at a nervous looking Tom. He places a hand firmly on the small of your back: it’s something he’s always done, at parties, conventions, meetings - anywhere the two of you are supposed to split up to both mingle and network. It’s just a small reassurance he started: he’s still here, always in the know, always knowing what’s going on, everything’s still good. He’s always got your back.

His fingers hitch slightly, catching in the back straps of your dress, and you can feel his nails scrape against your skin in an almost imperturbable fashion. But you notice how uncharacteristically stock still he’s standing from the corner of your eyes; his chin is tilted down at a furious angle, warning you of trouble to come. Wambsgams seems to get the message, his smiling stare dropping quickly into an almost aghast open mouth look of shock as he tries to recollect himself, not realising that Shiv had sent him packing into the fucking lion’s den.

You were Stewy’s S/o. You were Stewy’s fucking S/o, and everyone at the company knew that meant you were off limit. He chewed his bottom lip, trying to stop himself from looking panicked, but internally already getting ready to slam Cousin Greg against the wall for allowing himself to look like a complete fucking moron in front of like, thirty of the most important people in the whole entire world. 

Stewy, as usual, just keeps his eyes centred squarely on him. He smiles, oozing charm: radiating appeal, magnetic in the uneasiness he draws in. His eyes never leave Tom’s as he presses a kiss against your hairline, obviously unimpressed by Tom’s attempts to encroach on what is his. What he tries, desperately hard, yet seemingly with so little effort at all, to keep separate from this fucking mess of a family. But you can tell, despite how much he’s trying to compartamentalise the feeling of jealousy and vexation that’s crawling along his skin, it’s eating away at him. Niggling under his skin. It makes you feel... it makes you feel astounded to realise you’re the only person able to sully his impeccable standing. The only person from his personal life, since Kendall disappointed him yet again, he’s allowed to encroach so intricately towards the walls he’s built around his working life. The only person in this room he would be frustrated if he disappointed. Probably the only person in this room who hasn’t disappointed him as well.

He wasn’t about to let that go so easily.

‘Wh-whoah! Hey man! Uh - didn’t mean to- to come raining on your parade, ha ha!’ He gives the two of you a tight lipped smile as he exhales, slowly trying to dispel the awkwardness of Stewy doing nothing but blinking at him by reaching hesitantly towards some of the nibbles lining the bar. He picks up one of the cocktail sticks: a melting lump of brie scattered with some chopped fig, and twirls it between his thumb and pointer finger. 

Stewy just cloaks himself in that fake, eat-shit looking grin, and Tom’s eyes widen in obvious fear. You’re busy trying not to bust a gut from laughing as Tom throws a not very sly look behind his shoulder at Shiv, whose holding a champagne flute in one hand and bust talking to one of Nate’s work colleagues to really care. She just purses her lips and crosses her arm, waving one of her hands in his general direction, obvious distaste lining her features at the sweat beading on her husband’s forehead. 

‘It’s okay, man’, Stewy finally chips in, putting the poor bastard out of his misery. ‘Don’t want you to choke on that canape though. You know’, he takes a step forward, leaning towards Tom ostentatiously, ‘I’ve heard that Logan’s started setting up cheese traps around the office to see how many rats come scurrying in for the kill.’

‘Ha ha! Good, good one, man! You got me, you little prick. You got me, that was so... so good.’ Tom’s pretending to laugh, but he dips his eyes and reaches up to loosen his collar at the same time. He’s starting to be unable to take the heat: to take Stewy’s scrutiny, his piercing, all-knowing gaze. It always amazes how quickly Stewy can manage to flip the tables back onto the Roys. You wince as Tom barks out another short chuckle, and you’re not the only one: Roman’s lounging on the back of a settee nearby, resting next to an oblivious Kendall who’s currently scrolling fervently through one of the news feeds on his phone. The two of them may have been obligated by daddy dearest to be here, but Roman was adamant he was going to add a spark of chaos to the stifling air.

‘Hey! Yeah, little bitty fucking titmouse!’, Roman yells over to Tom, who sighs heavily at the usual repeated annoyance. ‘If you take old Stewy boy over here into the toilets he’ll snort coke off your tits and the two of you can finally kissy kissy like you always dreamed.’

‘The bathroom’s currently occupied.’ It takes Stewy less than five seconds to respond, taking his hand off your back to cross them both professionally in front of his legs. ‘I believe I saw Gerri go in there a while ago with a very presentable looking young man.’ He doesn’t even look over at Roman as he guts him, choosing instead to drop his head down to yours and raise his eyebrows in a knowing look. He’s won this battle too.

Roman spills some of his beer as he darts his eyes up to the vaulted ceiling. He pretends to look around, before letting out an incredulous sounding hyena giggle. ‘Yep, well. Looks like pigs haven’t fucking learnt how to fly yet.’

‘I think, maybe’, Stewy points out towards the empty floor leading to the sliding balcony doors of Shiv’s apartment, ‘if you do a running start, you might be able to this time.’ He finally chooses to glance over at Roman with a level stare, and the younger siblings shrivels under its intensity.

Roman frowns, and in his scrabble down to sit back on his seat he spills even more drops of amber liquid over his hands; the feeling of something lukewarm hitting his brand new hand-sewn suit jacket is enough to finally rouse Kendall away from his phone. And let’s just say, when he sees Roman licking bits of alcohol off his fingers, and then follows the trail down to spot the wet patch on his own arm, he’s not very impressed. Thankfully, everyone being momentarily distracted by the head wrestling match that seems to be going on between the two brothers offers Tom enough of a distraction to slink off.

‘Yep... yep, it’s all good’, the words slide off Tom’s tongue as his eyes flicker anxiously between the two of you. ‘Okay. Well’, his voice rises, ‘I’ll just go see how the old Golden Girls brigade is doing over there.’ He juts his thumb over towards Karl and Frank, giving one last obnoxious laugh before he leaves, stage right. You watch him go; his head whips down as he passes by the chaise lounge, as if he’s swearing violently to himself.

Stewy rolls his eyes, before placing a stern hand comfortingly on your shoulder. He squeezes. ‘You alright baby?’ Once you give a nod of assurance, he rubs the bottom of his chin absently. His eyes seemed to glaze as he finished. ‘Good. Good. Come on love, we have work to do.’

At first you think he means the two of you have to go to some other clueless presidential candidate (if you had to hear Connor Roy talk one more time about his nuclear attack bunkered ranch you were going to explode), but you were surprised to feel Stewy’s arm wind tightly around your waist. You were locked against his swaying hip in a tight vice, and he smugly passed Shiv’s raised eyebrow with a faux blown kiss in her direction as he lead the two of you towards the elevators. He massages against your hip bone, not saying a word as the gold-crested doors closed and the two of you are alone. For a moment, as he looks nonchalantly around the small space, you’re worried some line has been crossed today. But then you feel his hand slide down... further... further, teasingly caressing the top of your thigh, and you thank god Cousin Greg didn’t try to escape into the elevator with the two of you. He smirks as he feels you flutter your legs shut next to him, but he’s quick to tut tut and grab onto the meat of your leg, pulling them apart again and making your shoes slide nosily across the metal floor.

His hand dips down to rest at the bottom curve of your buttocks as the door slides open, shoving his other into his trouser pocket as he leads you out towards the car. It’s a long drive to get back to your hotel room for the night, but as soon as the doors have closed and you’ve nearly run to the bedroom you don’t even have time to unstrap your heels before the man’s on you. He shoves you firmly down onto the bed: his face is straight, unreadable, but his mouth is lined in an almost too intense frown as he refuses to look at you. He just slowly loosens his tie, before throwing it onto the chair in the corner. The tension is palpable, but you don’t even dare to hitch your breath and break it, just crawling backwards and watching the man on your raised elbows. He languidly takes off his cufflinks, placing them neatly down on his chiffonier, double checking they’re perfectly straight. The smug bastard even leans down to check his beard in the mirror, tilting his head side to side before he finally, finally decides to wander unhurriedly over to the edge of the bed.

'You okay there baby', he asks, as if he doesn't know what he's doing.

'Yes, just - fuck Stewy. I need you. Now.'

He steals your breath before you even have time to think. He lunges, famished, and shoves your legs apart so you fall backwards onto the comforter with a satisfying thump. You can feel a knot tighten in the base of your stomach as he’s quick to fill the space left, biting at your ankles as he grabs onto the bottom of your legs and lifts them squarely over his shoulders. His hands are soft, so tender, yet they claw into your skin as he begins to knead the muscles of your calves; his lips are well versed in ravishing you, and so they know exactly where to bite onto the side of your knees and leave the most devastatingly beautiful teeth marks. He’s unstoppable as his mouth licks and latches and moves like smooth butter further and further down the inside seam of your right thigh. You yelp when you feel his other hand reach up to grab and squeeze onto your breast, running the gap between his thumb and pointer finger past your nipple. 

Your hips buck up against him, but he’s quick to shut that down. He runs his hand down your side until his palm is placed flat against your belly button, holding you down against the warming sheets. He needs to be in control again.

His beard has that familiar scratch that you know is going to leave a burn tomorrow, but god, by the way his free hand unlatches from your ankle to the side of your hip, pushing at your waist until you’re lifted slightly up from the ground and he can slide his hand under to squeeze your buttocks, does it make it all worth it.

With your legs now straight up in the air, he tugs them closer around his head, as if daring you to move away from him again. You squirm, but happily oblige, enjoying the pressure of his lips nibbling against your panties as he rolls the bottom of your dress up your legs. He gently takes your clenched hands and places them on the bed either side of you, spread eagled without even lifting his head to look. He squeezes your fingers gently, before fisting your hands into the duvet. It’s a warning: a warning that this is going to be rough. That, as his nose presses into your groin and he props his knees up properly against the edge of the bedframe, that this may be so fervent, so passionate, so ferocious, that the bed might slam back into the wall so loudly it might shatter. That you might scream out his name so mewingly between the fingers he’s shoved into your mouth, that he may have to pay off the hotel clerks the next day for all the damages and disturbances caused during the night.

But by god, if it isn’t worth it. Because he loves you with everything he’s got. And gosh, if he isn’t going to show you tonight that all those fancy pants asshole he comes into contact with aren’t up to scratch. They’re not nearly on the same level as him.

He knows how it feels to lose: his family, they once lost everything, and built this life up again from the ashes. But tonight, he wins. He wins. As he hears you groan, he realises that he’s already won.

#succession #stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini imagine #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini headcanons #kendall roy #roman roy #succession imagine #succession season 4 #stewy succession #stewy succession imagine #shiv roy #tom wambsgams #greg hirsch #connor roy #succession fanfic #succession fanfiction #jealous imagine #jealous!stewy #x reader

[nicolettemarionette]

Business with Pleasure

Pairing: Kendall Roy x Reader x Stewy Hosseini Description: Stewy is preoccupied when Kendall comes to him with a pitch. You don't seem to mind the intrusion, though. Words: 1K Rating: SMUT (more under the cut)

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, implied drug use, smut, age gap, semi-public fondling, exhibition, teasing

A/N: A horny reimagining of S1E3 because I'm a slut for Kendall and Stewy ;)

Part 2 up now!

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It's a party; Kendall Roy had attended more parties than he could remember. From lavish galas filled with pissing contests of charitable donations, to tedious mixers spent appeasing disingenuous executives from billion dollar corporations, to ragers mixing copious amounts of recreational drugs and hard liquor. The gathering he finds himself at now resembles the latter - pharmaceutical helpers being handed around like party favours as soon as he steps onto the threshold.

He swallows down the itch to indulge, manoeuvring his way through the coked up crowd. A thick curtain separates him from a private room and the familiar laugh of an old friend. He's prepared, thoroughly confident in his approach as he pushes into the red-lit space.

Then he's unprepared for the sight of you; eyes half lidded, makeup smudged, lips swollen, hand gripping the older man's wrist, fingers hidden under a silky dress, hips rocking of their own accord. Kendall tears his eyes away, clearing his throat, "Stewy."

"Kendall," Stewy doesn't move his arm, despite your cheeks flushing at the intrusion. He merely raises his brows, "Kinda in the middle of something here."

"Yeah, well...we need to talk." It's curt and a clear indication for privacy, which Stewy wilfully ignores, his breath ghosting over your neck as he bends down to breathe in the familiar smell: a luxury fragrance he'd gifted you. Sweet, floral, delicate, just like you.

"Then talk."

Kendall frowns, then sighs exasperatedly, arms crossing over his chest as he looks everywhere but the lavish love seat you're sprawled across. "Okay, so you know how everyone kinda...hates you."

Stewy hums, "Uh huh. No, that's not something I'm aware of. Do you hate me, sweetheart?"

His fingers touch you again, lazily sliding over your pussy, grazing your clit, drawing a soft whimper from your lips. You shake your head pathetically in response to his question, though you're sure it's rhetorical. In reward he applies more pressure, a shit eating grin plastered to his face, corners of his eyes crinkling and the edges of his lips turned up; thoroughly amused as he watches Kendall's gaze going up and down your body so quickly he would've missed it if he hadn't been directly looking at him.

His friend swallows thickly, then states, as loudly and clearly as he can, "Well, people do, hate you. Private equity, getting their meat hooks in, chiselling your profit like uh, like a vampire locust fuck."

"What is this? Is this a roast cos...if you haven't noticed I kinda have shit to do." Stewy punctuates the sentence by dipping his fingers lower, groaning at how easily they slip into your entrance. He always knew you weren't as innocent as you feigned - from the auspicious smile you'd given him the first time he took you, in the restroom at some pompous art exhibition, and now this. He's embarrassingly hard.

The tension in the air is thick and hazy, hanging over you, heat blooming in your stomach with every deliberate stroke of Stewy's fingers against your walls, the man watching only adding to the searing desire. Kendall Roy is an easily recognisable man. You chance a look at him: tall, impeccably dressed, strikingly handsome, far older than you.

Dark eyes meet your own, momentarily, a certain hunger within them, teeth digging into his lips, "Right, well, I'll cut to the chase."

"Okay."

"How about instead of taking us over, you give us four billion dollars; I stay boss, you stop raiding shitty companies for scraps, you invest for once in a blue collar corporation that's currently..."

He trails off at the sight of Stewy's fingers pushing into your mouth. The way your lips close around them, suck them, Kendall definitely isn't imagining your tongue swirling around them. And he's definitely not picturing those lips wrapped around his cock.

His oldest friend gives him a knowing look, waiting for him to elaborate, which he does, stammering out the rest of his pitch, "Yeah, right. You know, it's currently undervalued by some unfounded concerns about its leadership, i.e: the 'Lord Fuckleroy' here. But, you invest, the story twists, happy ending for all." 

Stewy pulls his fingers from your mouth, trailing them down the valley of your breasts, brushing over your pebbled nipples, before ghosting over your thighs, toying with the fabric of your shift. "Obviously, I don't usually take minority stake in a company."

"Yeah obviously, because you're..." Kendall starts, then sighs. It's becoming increasingly hard for him to focus when Stewy's edging closer to your core again, the way your breath hitches telling him he's reached his target again. He folds his arms, "How about for once, you make things bigger? You know, with your old pal?"

Stewy suddenly plunges his fingers deeper than before, curling them and you can't help the needy cry that leaves your lips. He outright laughs, the sound dark and gruff as he shrugs to his 'old pal', "Bro, I can't even begin to think about this. But if I could, to sell it, I'd need boning stock."

"As long as we remain in control."

"Well," Stewy pauses when your hand finds purchase in the expensive fabric of his suit pants, self-restraint wearing thin, his hips chasing your touch, thrusting his fingers harder into you. "Effective control, okay. I'm also gonna need a board seat."

Despite Kendall's attempts to ignore the situation, the nervous rubbing of his neck gives away his discomposure. Still, his voice is strong, "Oh I'd force it on you, dude, for the optics. Shit hot CEO has some hot shit new money for investment. Yeah?"

"I'm not necessarily totally opposed to this notion."

"That's right, and luckily I speak Stewy. And that's Stewy for 'I've got a raging hard on for this." The moment the words leave his mouth he sees a barely suppressed bearded grin.

"If that isn't the pot calling the kettle a fucking minority," Stewy gestures to the sizeable tent pitching in the CEO's pants, brows raising comically. 

Kendall grimaces, adjusting his stance, "Oh, uh, sorry. But we're good, right?"

Stewy moves his fingers quicker, focusing on that spongy spot inside that has your face contorting with pleasure, pushing you towards orgasm and then his hand returns from your sticky thighs to pick up his glass. He raises it, "Yeah, we're good."

He rolls his eyes when you whine at the loss of contact, frustrated with his teasing. He takes a long sip of the bitter liquor, then before Kendall turns his back, adds, "But, just a thought. Why don't you...hang back for a bit? Celebrate?"

The insinuation clouds the air and before Kendall can even answer, he's being cut off, "I don't think-"

"What do you think, sweetheart?" His pet name has you in the palm of his hand, half smile on his face. "You want Ken to fuck you?"

You look nervous for a moment, but it quickly fades with the offer of being shared between two of the most powerful men in the city, "If...if he does."

"She's been practically soaked since you walked in. And you and Rava are done, right?"

"We're..." Kendall thinks back to the hurtful words exchanged, the emptiness of his bed. It's been weeks without contact, his sex drive through the wall. "We're separated, yes."

"And the banks not fucking you anymore, so how about you do some fucking of your own," as if he needs anymore convincing, Stewy's fingers are teasingly pulling the thin straps holding up your breasts. "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."

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A/N: This is my first time writing in a while and this is quite short and probably riddled with mustakes buttttt would totally be up for a part 2 if people want it. Any feedback is much appreciated :)

#succession #succession hbo #kendall roy #roman roy #stewy hosseini #succession smut #kendall roy smut #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy x you #stewy hosseini smut #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini imagine #stewy hosseini x you #kendall roy x stewy hosseini x reader #kendall x stewy #stewy succession #kendall succession

[romeulusroy]

Succession Preference: Baby Roy's Relationship (Non-Roy Characters)

Requested: loving all the baby roy content!! but i am curious: What are interactions with baby roy and greg like? does she bully him, too? does she just give him the sad “welcome to the shit show” smile? is she envious that he never had to grow up like this? - anon

A/N: These relationships are based on this particular fic/headcanon set. They're my favorite Baby Roy, and I think it really complicates some of these relationships! I know this was more of a question rather than a request, but I just couldn't get it out of my head!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Tom doesn't like you. You don't like Tom. The feelings are mutual. Not only do you think he isn't good enough for Shiv, which he's not, but you two have a lot of unspoken tension and hostility that's there just because you're you. Tom thinks you're a fuck-up. You're an addict and an alcoholic. You have been since you were a kid. With all the money and opportunities you and all your siblings have had, and yet you turn out like that? Rehab after rehab. Overdose after overdose. Not even your own father could stand you in those later years. He understands why he locked you in your room for days at a time, why he hired nanny after nanny so he wouldn't have to deal with you. Even your own mother doesn't love you. Tom thinks you shouldn't have any power in the company that you shouldn't have any say. Not after the stunts you've pulled. He still can't believe your brothers and sister still ask your thoughts and genuinely listen to you. You've shown him that you're not a Roy. You're not ready to hold that title. If anyone is, it's him. Not you. But he has to put up with you. You both resort to the silent treatment and talk behind one another backs. It's just easier this way.

Greg likes you, at least as much as he likes your siblings. He's kinda afraid of you. He's intimidated by you, to say the least. You're an all or nothing person. Growing up, you were in the thralls of your addiction and often got him involved. Could he go into your room and get you a white circle pill from the prescription bottle in your nightstand? Could he get you another drink? Don't tell Logan. Greg wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't say no to you. He was definitely scared of you, so often he did as he was told. Now that you're sober, he's grateful you can have some type of normal relationship. Kinda. Normal for him, at least. Like your siblings, you order him around a lot. He's in the way or just around too much. Who invited Greg? You don't see him as one of your equals. He's just there, Tom's assistant, basically. When it's just you and him, you're capable of having a relationship, but as soon as Tom invited himself, you're immediately turned off. To you, he's an extension of Tom. He's the puppet to his master. You don't have a lot of respect for him either. He does as he's told. There's no fight, there's no push back. When Tom destroyed his office he just let it happen. You have your issues, but you're not a pushover.

Marcia wants to act like your mother. She knows your mother is pretty absent and doesn't want to deal with you, contributing to your issues. She hopes that if she steps up, you'll confide in her, and you'll get your act together. She and Logan talk about your issues long before your siblings ever know. But he's not concerned. He sees no problem with it. You've gotten your temper under control. Secretly, Marcia worries, but without Logan behind her, she can do nothing. You don't like her. She's not your mother, and she never will be. Maybe she genuinely cares, maybe not. It doesn't matter to you. Years she spent watching you hurt yourself, and she did nothing. You come and go as you please. When you are home, she fears she'll have to call an ambulance every time. You and Shiv make jokes at her expense and laugh along with your brothers when they have something to say. She was an accomplice all those years, and you can't forgive her for that. She's just another one of his wives. That's it.

Gerri is a lot like your mother figure. She has the relationship that Marcia wants. She's the one you go to when you have no one else, when your father has iced you out. She's always had a soft spot for you. You're the baby, after all. She's there for your first drink, and hopefully, your last. She watched you grow up. She watched you spiral. She knew everything Logan knew. And he knew everything. It was Gerri on the phone with you after a hospital visit, telling you that she was sorry but your father was very busy, too busy to talk to you. She was the one who called, angry, fearing the worst, while in Norway. She sat in the emergency room while you got your stomach pumped. She was there through it all. Not Logan, certainly not your own mother. She gives Roman the cold shoulder, but she can't bear to let you go. You're like one of her own. She still emails, asking how you're doing. You tell her you're still sober. You definitely go to her for all your mothering needs and approval. When she's around you understand what it would have been like had your mother actually been caring and attentive.

Lukas likes you a lot. When you called them during their getaway to Norway, when you overdosed again and they came running to your rescue, he didn't see weakness like everyone else had. He saw power. He saw someone who had a shitty childhood and did something about it. Granted, it maybe wasn't the best thing, but you did something about it. It was a major middle finger to your father and everyone involved in the company. That takes guts. Far more guts than the rest of your family has, he thinks. You wouldn't meet until he signed the Gojo deal. It's there that he expresses interest in you. You aren't like your siblings. Look at you. You're barely clinging on. You're real. You're a real person with real faults and a hell of a history. He'd like to order you a water and hear all about it. Your siblings make sure you stay far away from him. He's screwed them over now. He is not to be trusted, especially around the baby of the family. Not now, not ever. You don't think you like him. He chose Tom for Christ's sake. Tom, of all people. His judgment must be piss poor if he chose Tom. He's not as smart as everyone thinks. That was a bad move for the future of the company.

Stewy is actually a good friend of yours. You've known him as long as he's known Kendall. You grew up before his eyes. You guys aren't that close outside of clubs and bars. He's a bit of partier himself. Like he says, he likes bad drugs. You two would find one another at a club and spend a few hours together. This was before your family knew about your late nights. Stewy was impressed by your tolerance, forgetting you were still just a teenager. He was too messed up to remember to care. You'd get high and dance, and at the end of the night, you'd throw however much you owed him at him. Money was never an issue. He made the mistake of bringing it up to Kendall shortly after they figured out what was going on. Kendall banned Stewy from seeing you from getting near you. How could he? You partied at all the same places. You'd assured him that Kendall was just being dramatic when he said that. Stewy wasn't your only dealer, but he was the smartest. You didn't get anything laced with him. Now you're not as close. He still says hi, but he still goes out, gets fucked up. As much as you want to, you can't.

Uncle Ewan has similar feelings towards you as Tom. He's called you a "junkie" more times than you can count. He doesn't let you defend yourself and doesn't care what your siblings have to say about it either. He doesn't see you as Logan's child or even as a Roy. As far as he's concerned, you don't exist. You don't matter. When you do see him, he always rubs your sobriety in your face. After Logan passes and you self-destruct at a club, he feels the need to ask you how much you've had to drink that day. Even at the funeral, he says he can smell an entire bar on your breath. If you weren't so afraid it would kill him, you'd punch him. Your brothers have to hold you back after a comment like that. He wasn't ever sure why Logan even had another kid. You weren't anything special to begin with. He didn't even like your mother. He knew, from the beginning, you'd be a disappointment. To Ewan, you have always been and always will be a disappointment.

#requested #succession #succession imagine #succession headcanon #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #greg hirch #greg hirch x reader #gerri kellman #gerri kellman x reader #stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #marcia roy #marcia roy x reader #succession x reader #ewan roy #ewan roy x reader #greg hirsch #greg hirsch x reader

[cogcltrcorn]

I think post s4 kendall got himself an absurdly expensive and care-intensive dog (probably like the size of a horse) and he spends like all of his time on taking care of it and walking it and dragging it to dietitians and he is soooo annoying about it. and honestly? I think it would be good for him. like he needs something absorbing in his life and nothing is more absorbing to a rich white person than a dog. also the unconditional love would serve him well.

#look I understand the vision re: a cat that loves stewy and hates kendall but let's be honest. stewy already has a pet and that pet is ken. #(also sorry I just don't think stewy seems like the kind of guy to care about animals... maybe they get a really expensive cat breed and ken #does all of his insane shit to a cat instead but I think stewy would make peace with any animal and kendall would want a dog) #((you can imagine this post is about a bengal instead)) #stewy hosseini #kenstewy #kendall roy #succession

[chaithetics]

Hello hello lovelies!!!

I just want to say that i'm SO SO SO SO sorry that i haven't posted any fics in almost a month! normally I'd post something weekly but it's been intense lately! As a lot of you will know I've been dealing with a lot of health stuff lately, in the last month my fatigue has been really bad and that and pain have turned me into a bit of a hermit, which also started to take a hit on my mental health. So I've been exhausted and depressed and just didn't have the energy for writing- I haven't even been reading fics (I guess that means hopefully soon I'll be up for some binge reading though!)

I just wanted to say that I haven't stopped and I promise there's more coming! I am away for a small holiday this week to try and help with making me feel better but I promise there will be completed Stewy fics in the next couple of weeks! To prove this (lol) and to hopefully help out with the lack of pieces from me here are some little previews/sneak peaks of scenes from a few different pieces (the one about glasses is from a 'Furtive Hands' universe prompt that im excited to get out as well- do yourself a favour and search 'Arian Moayed glasses') also I will hug and be best friends with anyone who can spot the glee reference 👀

Also there's some Stewy angst?! Which everyone seems to want lol

I'm also rewatching Daredevil (prompted by the lovely Bear Nonnie) so maybe there will be more Marvel fics in the nearish future as well?!

Do feel free to interact and send asks! I've missed you all! And I adore and appreciate you all, so, so, so much! 💗 💗💗💗

#stewy hosseini #succession #stewy hosseini x roy reader #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini x roy!reader #porcelain and the shark #requests #hbo succession #chaithetics #chaitheticsrequest #stewy hosseini imagines #stewy hosseini x you #stewy hosseini fanfic #stewy hosseini fanfiction #stewy hosseini x f reader #stewy hosseini x porcelain #stewy hosseini x porce #porce and the shark #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock angst #stewy hosseini angst #stewy hosseini fluff

[bleggmoe-blog]

I need more succession fics. I’m running out. This is an issue. I am officially a dependent of fictional characters. *cough* Stewy *cough* Roman *cough* No. Seriously. Like who tf else is going to lull me into a peaceful slumber?

#thesucession #roman roy #stewy hosseini #the succession imagines #hbo #stewy hosseini imagine #roman roy x reader

[hoom]

Arian Moayed as STEWY HOSSEINI in 1.10: Nobody Is Ever Missing.

#succession #successionedit #arian moayed #stewy hosseini #stewy #2 #rookie mistake to post at this hour i know but. imagine being this fine #anyway this took me 30min there is no way i'm ever gifing live again

[scarletttries]

Stewy Hosseini NSFW Alphabet (Succession)

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini (Succession) x Reader

Rating: Fluffy Smut

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: Thank you for all the fun Stewy requests since Succession ended, here's a little something for all the Stewy girls as I love writing these alphabets! 🥰

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Stewy has been with his fair share of lovers, but he's not the type to disappear into a town-car the minute the deed is done. Stewy feels the connection deeply, and wants to take his time checking you had just as good an experience as he did. He's not cuddly in a needy way, but he likes to keep a strong hand pressed to your thigh or arm or belly, something to say he's there, he's with you, and he's still yours for the rest of time, not just for the night.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Stewy feels confident and powerful about his hands. The way a typed message or handshake from him can change the world or move billions of dollars around. The fact that he works out to ensure he's never only strong in his mind, but in his body as well. But most of all, the way he can use his hands to lift you against a desk, pin your hands above your head when he's feeling dominating, and bring you waves of pleasure over and over again until his name is the only thing that you can pant out into the night.

Speaking of your lips, Stewy is enamoured from the first smile you give him - cheeky, confident, but full of warmth. He loves hearing every word you say, every breath you take, and his favourite of all, every kiss you dain to bless him with. Whether it's a chaste peck on the cheek when you meet him for dinner after work, or a sloppy lick along his length after a long day, he will never not praise the perfect feel of your lips on him.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I get big 'comes from a big, loving family' vibes from Stewy in the way he talks about his father so I think he's always seen himself building a growing family and being a father too. So while he's been careful about protection all through his bachelor days, once he starts getting serious with you, this man's breeding kink comes out. He might have started off by finishing on your belly at first, but then he can't helo but think how much better that would feel inside of you, how he wants to have his seed deep inside you. The first time he finishes inside you it's like heaven, and he knows nothing will ever stop him from spending night after night back where he belongs.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Stewy is self-assured, through and through, so almost never gets jealous. Instead he loves arriving separately to a bar where you're already sat, nursing a drink, and seeing a crowd of men hitting on you, trying their luck with someone who's totally his. He'll let them get close, watching you make eyes at him across the bar and feign interest in these nobodies, then finally he'll swoop in and place a hand firmly on your back, tugging you quickly into a Mercedes and having you bouncing on his lap before you get down a single block of new york traffic.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Stewy knows exactly what he's doing, almost infuriatingly so. He's been with plenty of people in his youth, learning exactly how to give someone the best possible time, and knowing exactly what he likes. By the time he applies this knowledge to you, it means he has all the experience he needs to get you riled up with a single touch, to read every single signal you give him, and play your body like his own perfect instrument.

F = Favourite Position (this goes without saying)

Stewy likes to be able to see your face as he makes love to you, loving having you pressed against a wall or perched on a desk in a moment of passionate desire. He loves seeing you bounce on his lap, using him for your pleasure, getting off on him, his hands exploring your body as he brings you to the edge of pleasure. Finally he loves when he's kneeling behind you, drawing moan after moan from your lips, as you glance back at him, mouth hanging open as your cunt clenches around him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Stewy knows how to make you laugh when he's flirting or teasing you at a bar, but he's much more intense and serious in the moment. He really values the intimacy and connection that comes with that precious time together, the act meaning so much to him now that it's with someone he truly loves. His words are soft and kind as he praises every inch of your body, a romantic through and through under his sometimes smarmy facade.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they?)

Stewy cares about his appearance enough to keep everything clean and neat, knowing he'll be judged the second he walks into any room including the bedroom.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Deep down Stewy is absolutely a romantic. He's never had anywhere to put those feelings (*cough* except Kendall *cough*) so he loves being able to be vulnerable with you now, surrendering his body to you and fully embracing you in return. There's a lot of eye contact, hand holding, communication throughout the whole experience, and he's been known to have a hotel suite lined with candles and flowers for special occasions, never wanting you to feel like he doesn't put in effort to show how much he cares.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Stewy prides himself on having a lot of self control, so he's never been one to regularly jack off, keeping his edge in his mind. Sometimes he'd touch himself in the mornings when he'd wake up hard, but usually if he was in the mood he'd just go to a bar and easily pull a willing participant. Now that you two are an item, he much prefers his experience of being with you, only resorting to solo play when you're away for a long period of time, and even then he likes to dial you up after a scotch so you can still experience the thrill together.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

We've already touched on his breeding kink, and a need to be touching you at every moment, but he's not necessarily a kinky kind of guy. He likes to dominate you when he's had a long, draining day at work, but sometimes when he's been on non-stop success he likes to take a submissive role, to have the power taken away from him with you on top for the night. He's not a full somnophile but he loves when he comes home late at night from meetings, and you've fallen a sleep waiting for him, so he wakes you with soft teasing touches up your thighs and the two of you have sleepy sex before he cuddles up for the night alongside you.

L = Location (favourite places to do it)

Stewy can have a lot of eyes on him when he's out about so he's not one to take risks in public places. He feels most comfortable with you at home in his penthouse, or in private hotel suites. Sometimes in frantic moments he'll take you in the back of town car and send his driver away. And once or twice when you've been shopping together he's followed you into a private dressing room the size of an apartment and showed you exactly how much he likes your new outfit.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Stewy's not the type to get an unwanted boner when he's just out living his life, but sometimes when he's had a particularly successful day at work he'll come home absolutely full of adrenaline and just be begging for you to use him to celebrate. Other times he gets there watching other people flirt with you knowing they can't have you, and when he gets to see you succeeding at life too he can't help but be endlessly attracted to your joy and exuberance.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

As much as he likes to see others try and take what's his, Stewy would never want to do anything that ends up with you sharing. He's also not the kind to be violently physical in bed, seeing the whole act as an indicator of your love for each other, not something he wants to cast an aggressive angle on. Your love nest is only a place of safety and family and love to him, so he never wants to lay a hand on you that isn't delicate and pleasurable.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Stewy isn't selfish, but he loves when you give him head. Seeing you settle on your knees beside him, licking your lips as he free him from his tight designer trousers, it's heaven on earth. Immediately the stresses of the day are washed away and replaced with nothing but ecstasy and adoration as your soft lips take him again and again.

He loves the chance to return the favour, especially when he's got all night to get you right to the edge of pleasure again and again, deciding if he wants to overstimulate you by making you cum over and over, or making you wait all night to finally cum on his dick.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Even Stewy's quickies are sensual and romantic, every touch deliberate and intentional, making you feel like the only person on the whole planet. He doesn't mind getting a little bit rough when he's taking control, pinning you under him while you squirm at the endless sensation, but he's not one for rushing the work of art that is the two of you together.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

It's very infrequent that Stewy goes for a quickie, so it would have to be when you're in the mood. Maybe you've been stroking his thigh all through dinner, flashing him that smile that tells him he's going to be lucky to if he makes it the car before your fingertips are on his belt buckle and you're in his lap getting exactly what you want.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Stewy's very happy to experiment with new positions, toys, lingerie, especially if it's something high end he can spoil you with. That being said, so much of his business runs of risks and highly volatile decisions, that in his personal life he prefers to play things safe, his home and his love life a safe haven where he doesn't need to run off adrenaline and arrogance, but on peace and understanding.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Stewy tends to focus on making his rounds with you last as long as possible, focusing on your pleasure always coming first so that by the time he's finished the two of you are completely spent and ready to crash into each other's arms for a cosy rest of the day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

As much he's up for experimenting, Stewy wouldn't have really used any toys on himself. He much prefers using them to drag out orgasm after orgasm from you, small vibrators and restraints giving him more control to touch every single inch of you and heighten the sensation of the experience for you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Stewy's a wonderful tease, in that he'll tease you until every part of you is tingling and begging for release, tears pricking in your eyes, sure you could be tipped over the edge with nothing more than one of his greedy loving kisses, but he'll always deliver the desperate release you're craving in the end. He just loves seeing you squirm a little first, making sure he's been the best possible lover that he can be for you, making sure no part of you is untouched.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not the type to moan wildly, but he does love chanting your name in your ear, or whispering compliments as he drives you crazy. You can tell when he's getting close because all his praises stop and dissolve into breathy panting, his brain unable to put words to the incredibly way he makes you feel.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for this character)

When there's been a gala event that Stewy's been dreading for weeks, you 'doffer to do 'anything' to help him have a better night. Stewy thinks through your offer, and realises there's something that will make the night much more enjoyable for him - he orders you a pair of vibrating panties he can control from his smart watch. You can see how excited he is to see you like this, to take this control and try something new, and so you agree to wear them, sliding them under your outfit and practically bolting upright as he 'tests' the controls.

He doesn't start the vibrations right away, letting the anticipation stir inside you for half the night at just the possibilities, your pleasure completely in his hands, powerless in public and waiting to be used. He waits until he notices a guy eyeing you up across the room, his favourite, getting the motor running on low the minute he approached. You fought back little trembles in your words as you spoke, bracing yourself for more but relieved as the interested guy walked away and the vibrations turned off again. Over and over he'd wait for a guy to walk your way, stirring up some low trembling in your thighs, not getting you anywhere close to relief, but leaving you feeling like your legs might give way at any moment. Finally you find yourself seated beside him, the big investors of the evening settled on leather couches in a private room, and that's when he decides to really abuse his power. He places a hand gently on your thigh as he sets the vibration going away, this time stronger, setting pleasure rippling inside you in a way that has you fighting back moans. You try and clench your legs together for relief, but his strong hand keeps them prised apart, making you contribute to conversation every so often to gauge just how breathless he's getting you. You can tell from the devilish look on his face that's enjoying this even more than he hoped, the way you bite your lip driving him crazy until he decides you're ready for the final test. You're breathless, dripping wet, every inch of you throbbing and sensitive, on the cusp of release as Stewy drags you to your feet, saying your goodbyes for the night. He can't resist giving you one greedy kiss before he lets you say goodbye to the rest of the room, cranking the vibrations to highest setting so you have no choice but to moan into his open lips, core tensing and releasing in powerful waves of pleasure, the vibration not slowing as pleasure courses through your veins, coming out the other side into overstimulation as he pulls his lips away and leads you carefully to the car, knowing the minute you have strength back in your legs you'll be getting him back for the night of teasing, and desperately hoping you'll let him do it again.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Stewy keeps himself in good shape, and is a well built man all over.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before you came into his life, he wasn't exactly a horndog, but the intense love and adoration he has for you has absolutely turned him into the kind of man that doesn't ever go a moment without thinking of your smile, and mind, and body. He's a lot more desperate for you than he likes to let on, but you've 100% changed how much time he spends thinking about sex for the better, your body becoming one of his favourite places to be.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He tends to feel very content rather than sleepy after he's been with you. Preferring the gentle come down of making you a fancy decaf coffee, leading you into his shower, delicating washing every inch of each other, kissing any delicate places 'better' before finally the two of you curl up together for the night, feeling truly at peace and at bliss together in your little family of two.

#stewy succession #stewy hosseini #writing #fanfiction #one shot #requests #succession #succession imagine #succession hbo #succession headcanons #stewy x reader #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini smut #succession alphabet

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Clandestine. Part Three.

It's better this way. At least, that's what you're telling yourself.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female!Roy Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - cursing. allusions to smut. angst. mention of death. quick mention of drug use.

Author's Note - it's here, you guys. part three !! thank you so much for all of the continued love on this series, it makes me so happy. there'll definitely be at least a couple more parts after this one, so don't worry!! i'm a sucker for a happy ending ;)

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Part One. Part Two. Series Masterlist.

Main Masterlist. Inbox.

"-and I know it's a fuckin' tough challenge, but I think we can do it. We've got people on our side, and I got a call from Lawrence this morning - I'm gonna see if I can convince him. So, we definitely need you in that fuckin' meeting."

Silence.

"Are you even fucking listening to me? Hello?"

"... What?"

"I said, we need you at the Board Meeting this afternoon. Kendall made me promise I'd show up with you."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Roman looks you up and down carefully, brows quirked in curiosity.

"The fuck is going on with you? You've been super weird these last couple of weeks."

That confirms your suspicions that Kendall hasn't told anyone about that day at Stewy's apartment. You were wondering if he had, nervously trying to play detective around your siblings.

"I'm just... tired. I'm fine. Don't worry about me, okay?"

Roman doesn't look convinced, but nods anyway.

"Just... you know, I, uh - I'm... I'm here. If you need me. You know that, don't you?"

You smile softly at his awful attempt at affection.

"I know, Rome. Thank you."

"Come on," he says, jumping from his chair. "We better get to that meeting early, Ken wants to talk strategy."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're sitting silently, heels kicked off, curled up in an expensive leather chair. Kendall and Roman are talking business, the complex jargon going straight over your head. You're in a world of your own, completely detached from your current reality, when you hear it.

Rome says it off hand, not thinking anything of it. You watch as Kendall flinches ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. Your throat tightens, your heart kicks up in your chest. Then, he says it again.

His name.

Stewy.

"I know if you push him the right way, Ken, Stewy is fully on board. We got him, I know we do."

Stewy.

Stewy, Stewy, Stewy.

The word plays on repeat in your mind, like a stuck record. Kendall's eyes flick to you, as if to gauge your reaction, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. You haven't spoke since your argument, deciding that the silent treatment was the best course of action. You know it's torture for Kendall, but you're both stubborn. Neither of you is willing to back down first.

"Uh - yeah, yeah, I, uh, I think, maybe. I think maybe he is. I don't, uh, I don't know."

Rome is oblivious to Kendall's reluctance to speak on the subject, clearly.

"Well, can you fuckin' talk to him? You know you're like the only person in Waystar he'll listen to."

Kendall's eyes are darting between you and Roman frantically. You can read him like a book.

"Yeah, I'll, uh, sure. I'll talk to him."

You scoff under your breath, but he hears it.

"You got something to fuckin' say, Princess? Huh?"

Princess. You haven't heard that one in a while. Your childhood nickname. It started off as a sweet endearment, but now, it's thrown in your face when the boys want to get under your skin.

"Fuck you, Kendall," you bite.

"Uh... Did I miss something?"

"Fuck off, Roman," you and Ken say simultaneously.

Any other day, you'd laugh about saying the same thing at the same time. You'd joke about how in sync you are, how you share one brain. Now, it just makes you infinitely sadder.

You're about to make another sarcastic remark when Sandi and Sandy enter the room, cutting the moment short. You're not sure if you're grateful or spiteful.

One by one, the Waystar Board members file in, taking their seats at the table. You're holding your breath, sitting at the edge of your chair, waiting for the inevitable. You can predict it now, the way you're going to feel when he walks in - chest tight, lungs knotted, fists clenched.

Stewy walks in, and the opposite happens.

You exhale your held breath, and relax slightly. The tension leaves your shoulders for a moment, your lip gets released from in between your teeth. It's like seeing him has cured you, even temporarily. As if he's your own brand of medicine, your personalised prescription.

His eyes catch yours, and you have a silent conversation. So much is said in such a short time.

Hi. Hi. Are you okay? No, are you? No. Not at all.

The room is oblivious to this emotional exchange - except for your older brother. Kendall watches your every move like a hawk. He's trying to figure out if the two of you are still together, still sneaking around behind his back. You haven't spoken to him since he stormed out of Stewy's apartment, meaning he has no idea about the events that occurred after his departure.

The meeting goes off as usual, full of tension and sniped remarks. You don't listen to a word anyone says, too focused on keeping your attention away from Stewy across the table. You're determined not to look at him. You know that if you do, he'll see right through you. He'll know how you really feel. And that is something you're not at all prepared for.

"Okay, well, if no one else has anything they'd like to cover, I think we're done here. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone rises from their places, shaking hands and having quick discussions before leaving through the tall glass doors. You stay put, in no rush to exit. Kendall approaches Stewy, and you watch the exchange with a clenched jaw.

"Hey, uh... can we, like, talk, maybe? I think, yeah, I think we should talk."

Stewy takes a long, hard look at Kendall, before chuckling humourlessly.

"I've got nothing to say to you, man."

Your brother stays stuck in his place, staring at the floor beneath him. As Stewy leaves, he can't resist running his fingers across your shoulders gently. You look back at him, but he's already gone.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Home doesn't feel like home anymore.

Everywhere you look, you're reminded of Stewy.

You're in the kitchen, and all you can think about is the time the two of you slow danced in the middle of the night, slipping and sliding on the tiled floor. There's a half finished bottle of wine on the counter, abandoned in favour of gliding around the room in your socks. Stewy clicks on some low, jazzy music, and pulls you into his arms. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the bathroom, and you can't stop thinking about when the two of you took a bubble bath together, lavender scented steam filling the air. Your back is pressed to Stewy's chest, sitting in between his legs as he massages the shampoo into your hair. He's humming softly, a song his Mother used to sing when he was a child. There's not an ounce of tension in either of your bodies. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the living room, and you can't avoid the memories of curling up with Stewy on the couch. He always lets you pick the movie - sarcastically rolling his eyes at your choices, but never protesting. You sit there for hours, bodies tangled together like two pieces of the same puzzle. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the bedroom, and you can't stop picturing the way that Stewy would take you apart and put you back together again. Before him, all of the sex you had was quick, transactional, impersonal. But it was different with Stewy. With Stewy, it felt like you had all the time in the world. It was tender, loving, connected. He genuinely cared about your pleasure - learning your body inch by inch, memorising it like a sculptor. You allowed yourself, for the first time ever, to let go. You put your soul in his hands with full faith. Lying there, limbs intertwined beneath the soft sheets, there was no doubt in your mind. You belonged somewhere.

And now that safe place is gone.

Home doesn't feel like home anymore, and it's all because of him. You could move at the drop of a hat, find a new apartment tomorrow if you wanted. But you can't. You can't leave all of these memories behind. As painful as they are, they're all you have.

You turn on the TV, and flick to ATN News. They're running a story on a young baseball player that tragically died in a car wreck, aged twenty four. You sit and watch the whole segment, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen. When it ends, you turn it off, and sit in silence.

You sit there for hours, in the quiet, just thinking. About everything. The number twenty four keeps circling around in your head.

He was twenty four. Twenty four years old. He hadn't even got to live properly. Life is so short. Life is so unpredictable. God, anything could happen tomorrow. Twenty four. Twenty four. Twenty four.

You glance towards the clock on the wall, which reads 10:24. It feels like a sign.

All of a sudden, you're sick of waiting. Sick of being told how to live your life. Sick of trying to conform to these ideals that people are placing on you. Fuck them. Life's too short. You have to start living for you.

You're pulling on your shoes and grabbing your keys before you can even process it. You call the number for a car, but no one answers. Fuck it, you'll run across New York City if you have to. If it means you get to hold the man you love in your arms again.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The knocking on the door is so loud, Stewy's half convinced he's about to be murdered. He swings open the heavy oak to be met with the sight of you, looking like you just ran a marathon.

You stand still for a moment, staring at each other, as if you can't believe what you're seeing. You're here, in each others vicinity again. It'd be so easy to reach out and touch him.

So, you do.

You barrel into Stewy, jumping into his arms, throwing yours around his neck. He catches you easily, holding onto you as tight as he possibly can. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself even closer, as if to merge both of your bodies into one being.

You breathe him in, and it's the first time you've taken a full breath in weeks. He smells the same as he always did, musky and woody and expensive and yours. He still smells like he's yours.

You don't realise you're crying until you pull away from him slightly, and see the wet spot on his t shirt. He puts you down and closes the door, locking it behind you. He grabs your hand and leads you into the kitchen, parting from you to pour two glasses of wine.

You jump up onto the counter and part your legs, Stewy coming to stand between them instinctively. He places a hand on each of your thighs, warmth seeping through his palms. You're face to face, unsure where to start.

"Baby," he breathes. "What are you doing here?"

He sounds unsure, almost scared. If only you knew how frantically his heart is beating in his chest.

"Life is too short," you reply quickly. "Way too short. I could literally die tomorrow."

Stewy looks at you carefully, brow quirked in confusion.

"Honey, are you on drugs? Because they're really not good for you, you know."

"Says the man who did coke off my ass last month," you tease defiantly.

He fights back a smile, but it curls at the corner of his mouth. You grin at him, hands moving to play with the hair at the back of his neck.

"I'm not on drugs," you reassure. "I was just watching the news, and it kinda put everything into perspective. Life is so short and so fragile. Why am I wasting mine trying to appease my family, who'll never be happy, no matter what I do?"

He smiles at you softly, nodding as you continue.

"I just - my whole life, my brothers have just done whatever the fuck they wanted. Especially Kendall. But I make a choice for me, and all of a sudden I'm the villain? How is that fair?"

"It isn't," he agrees, squeezing your thighs in reassurance. "They're all hypocrites. Do you know how many stupid decisions I've watched Kendall make over the years? They think they know everything, but they don't."

"I mean, look at them. Roman is incapable of affection, Kendall's ex wife hates him, and Connor practically bought Willa. My Dad's on his second wife, not including the countless mistresses he's had. None of them know anything about love. They don't know a thing."

"I think you're the only person in your family capable of love," he chuckles.

"I'm starting to think you might be right," you laugh.

You lean forward and press your forehead to Stewy's, exhaling the tension from your shoulders.

"I'm really sorry," you whisper. "For everything. I treated you horribly, and none of it was your fault."

"It wasn't your fault, either. You know that, right?"

"I don't know. It's so hard to get a view on things when they're happening. But when I took a step back, it gave me a clearer look. And it made me realise something."

"And what's that?" he murmurs.

"I realised that I cannot live a day without you, Stewy Hosseini. I don't want to."

"Thank God," he breathes in a laugh. "I've been going fucking crazy here without you."

You beam a grin at him, so bright it's a wonder that the lights don't shatter.

"I love you, and I won't apologise for it," you confess. "Whatever the consequences are, I'll accept them. Nothing can touch me when I'm loved by you. You're like my own personal armour."

"Man, we're the worst," he laughs. "We could love anyone in the world, and we just had to choose each other."

"I'm gonna choose you everyday, I'm afraid," you tease. "There's no going back now."

"I wouldn't want to," he murmurs. "I don't want to go back."

"Me neither," you whisper against his mouth.

Stewy leans forward and captures your lips with his, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You get completely lost in each other, revelling in the feeling of being back together. You feel like you can finally breathe again. The other half of your heart has returned.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you are tangled among the sheets, limbs intertwined and hands linked. You run your fingertips in mindless patterns over his chest, the sprinkling of hair tickling you, making you smile gently. Stewy's playing with your hair, soothing you softly. His heartbeat is lulling you into tranquility, relaxing you completely. This is paradise, you're convinced. Paradise.

"It can be like this forever, you know," he murmurs into the top of your head, kissing you tenderly.

"I know," you reassure. "And it will be."

Stewy can't stop thinking about the diamond ring still sitting in his nightstand. After your fight, he thought he'd never get to see you wear it. But now he knows he will. And that makes his heart flutter uncontrollably in his ribcage, like technicolour butterflies trying to escape him.

He pulls you impossibly closer, trying to breathe you in. He never wants to let you go. You don't want him to.

"We should tell them," you say suddenly. "Fuck the consequences."

"Are you sure, honey?"

You sit up in bed, looking at him carefully. His hair is mussed, shoulders relaxed, lip bitten between his teeth. He's never looked more beautiful.

"I'm sure. I wasn't, before. I think that's why I tried to push you away - I was trying to force myself into doing something I wasn't ready for. But almost losing you has made me realise that you're it for me, Stewy. You are my first and only choice. You are the only thing I'm sure of."

Stewy's chest swells with emotion, throat tightening, eyes welling. He's determined not to cry, but fuck, he's close.

"Do you know how many times I've dreamt of you saying those words to me?" he chokes out. "I love you. Fuck, I love you so much it makes me ache."

"I love you," you whisper back, cradling his face in your gentle hands. "I love you. I'm never letting you go again. Not ever."

You kiss him softly, basking in the feeling of his lips on yours. You get lost in each other once again, both of you in disbelief at being back in each others arms.

"Let's tell them," you whisper against his mouth. "Fuck the consequences."

"Fuck the consequences," he grins. "It's you and me, baby. You and me against the world."

You feel as if you're floating, levitating, powered by the sheer force of your love. Nothing can touch you. You're invincible, when you're in Stewy's arms.

He knows this is it. This is the moment. He makes his decision, and reaches his arm out to open the top drawer of this nightstand. His pulse quickens, body practically vibrating with anticipation. As he pulls it open, your phone rings, the shrill tone piercing through your peace.

You go to decline it, but notice that it's Connor's name lighting up your screen. There's a weird feeling in your stomach, suddenly.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart. It's Connor. Where are you?"

You cast a glance towards Stewy, and he shakes his head softly, silently communicating. Not yet. We'll tell him in person.

"I'm at a friend's place. What's up?"

"I, uh, I don't... I don't really know how to, um... you need to come to Dad's apartment, ASAP."

"Wait, what? Why?"

There are a million scenarios swirling around in your head, clouding your mind, overwhelming you.

"He's, uh.. I just, um, I don't-"

"Spit it out, Con."

A pause. He takes a deep breath.

"Dad's dead."

Silence.

Your heart breaks. Stewy hears it happen.

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